In Y2K, Bass Player Magazine pronounced Matthew Garrison's debut as having "raised the bar" for electric bass players (in an article by Chris Jisi, who recently wrote the book on modern electric bass). What next, then? Fitting in this Olympic year, Garrison steps back from the bar, raises it a foot, challenges himself to make it over and succeeds on every level, turning in the greatest solo record by an electric bassist in the post-Jaco era.

Not merely a great electric bass player, he actually plays the instrument at the margins of human capability. Having captured the imaginations of the world's electric bass players and enthusiasts, he's set his sights on the ears and minds of the global audience for adventurous music. Importantly, he does so without taking virtuoso technique and mind-boggling facility off the table. Compositionally, he's retained the far eastern Indian flavor of his debut, while adding a brave new dose of electronica to the mix. There's a new emphasis on consistently changing up the tone and texture of the bass, in both ensemble and solo functions. The numbers of supporting cast and their roles have been narrowed, with Garrison taking on more of the burden of soundscape creation via computer-aided studio expertise. Finally, he's perfected the art of creating hook-laden melodic snippets, and placing them in various spots in the mix relative to countermelodies, counter-rhythms and counter-bass lines, none of which function counter to any other components.

For example, "Symbiosis," opens the set with a melodic fragment of eastern origin, sung by Sabina Sciubba , meeting percussively strummed acoustic guitar (also by Garrison), before being supplanted by slamming, power-chord style, distorted bass, in an ascending four-part progression of three notes each. A melody line reemerges, this time sung by the bass, chiming, sitar-like, with notes in the high register. A deep bass synth break recontextualizes the opening, vocal melody, as new synth pads offset the complementary descending bass line. Unison guitar and bass then voice a different, equally hummable melodic fragment over a loping folk-fretless line. This sets up a distorted, backward-looped bass solo, gorgeously steeped in expressive psychedelia. As the backward effect is removed, Garrison's trademarked shards, pieces of chords drawn from the scale-of-the-moment's harmony, replace it, followed by effortless linear melodicism, building to a phenomenal ripping sequence of his own device, recalling Jimi more than Jaco.

"Three Tree" is a duet with Arto Tuncboyacian on percussion. Any bassist who throws down this fluidly and virtuosically in the company of a sole percussionist is bound to get comparison to "Donna Lee," Jaco's celebrated throwing of the gauntlet with Don Alias. This one's a bossa improv of epic proportion. It's all there, the gorgeous chord voicings, the harmonic outline, the flat-out speed and impossible articulation of the right hand, the matching up of the left with the complete knowledge and instantaneous availability of the jazz vocabulary. But this is not an instrumentalist playing some famous standard at a breakneck pace. It's a relaxed performance, a spontaneous improvisation that right away imparts the feeling that Garrison could toss off any number of takes on this vibe, each of them as great as the last, yet different - what jazz, and virtuosity, are all about.

"Life Burning" combines the love for all things Indian with all things Squarepusher-drill'n'bass meets drilling bass for some Punjabi takeout. Note the Indian Massive-that's the real , Indian, massive bass sound punctuated by some kind of Hindu chanting - or is that cheerleading? Slamming it all against a very straight snare and hi-hat beat somehow propels it to the energy quotient to the next level, as do the wordless vocals by Tuncboyacian. The electronica sequence returns before another monster solo blows it all up, crossing up "Flight of the Bumblebee" pyrotechnics with ragaisms aided by pull-offs and trills, stopping for a hit of funky blues. The linear excursions that follow are decidedly not of the bop vocabulary; rare is the player on any instrument that draws lines so clearly from harmonic point to point that sit so well on their axe of choice.