There are some albums you really have to strap in for, lest you get whiplash for all of the various genre components that come whizzing by you. This is one of them. “My lyrics and conversation will make your brain smile,” boasts emcee Brandon Alexander Williams on this set’s intro, and the man has a point there. Chicago trumpeter Marquis Hill has surrounded himself with (mostly) other Chicagoans in a kind of detonation of jazz as we think of it, and a reassembly of a new jazz in spirit, if not form.
Stylistic freedom is a thematic thrust throughout. Junius Paul’s walking electric bass lines lead into “The Watcher,” with Jonathan Pinson’s drum rolls pulling us back, as if in a percussive underscoring of the idea that we need to stop, watch, process, learn. Vibraphonist Joel Ross is a beast, but a subtle one, even as his cascading notes cue Hill and Pinson to enter into a dialogue reminiscent of mute-free Miles and Tony Williams on the cusp of electricity half a century ago.