One of 2006’s finest slices of modern jazz has been turned in by a high school music teacher! Cory Combs teaches in San Francisco’s Mission District, at a school on Valencia Street, where he says we can see “every facet of life represented.” He's a virtuoso practitioner of seven-stringed electric bass, on which he displays a deft touch and colossal sound. But it’s his composing talent and aesthetic that separate him from most electric extra-stringed bassists.

While writing the music for Valencia, Combs tried to capture “the surreal nature of the everyday on Valencia Street.” He’s accomplished this admirably by marrying the concept to a "downtown” style that would sit comfortably at Tonic. His band mates, saxophonist Dan Willis and percussionist John Hollenbeck, often do. Hollenbeck’s presence leads me to think Combs would make a fine substitute, or perhaps addition, to his Claudia Quintet—or that this disc could have been subtitled the Claudia Power Trio. It’s that good and certainly my find of the year so far.

“Money In Your Pocket” fittingly begins with a chops and color-laden excursion by Hollenbeck, under a simple funky motif voiced in unison by Combs and Willis. Combs’ complex, octave-divider beefed fills quickly throttle back to bass-ics before hunkering down to a nastier elastic slide groove. What seems like a funny, syncopated ending segues into a short, fretless-sounding solo section for Combs, then into a dixieland-style feature for Willis. Here, as throughout, it's Combs who seems to be pulling off the jolting genre- jumping with the least effort, exploiting the full range and sound palette of a 7-string behemoth Bee Bass, sometimes in a single measure.

“Monk In A Red Wagon” follows seamlessly. It's a romantic, Lester meets Thelonious, timeless and elegant walk through the lower east side. Dig Hollenbecks's brush-hewn textures, Combs' judicious and ultra-cleanly mixed use of sonically definitive ultra-low end, and the way that it's Willis who swings the tune most while simultaneously being the sole melodist. The song isolates you with it, placing the two of you alone for a while, but in the end, implores a long, life-affirming, deep breath.

“Amnesia” opens with Combs’ thick, Percy Jones-esque, fretless growl surrounding a gentle melody. This is subtly broken by an enharmonic splay produced by a single chord voiced over the entire seven string range of the bass. All this introduces a samba! An elegant distillate of Brazilian styles, it has Combs dropping in some ultra-hip, low-end chromaticism and finger funk that, theoretically, shouldn't sound as great as it does, capping off eleven minutes of sophisticated form-fitting yet form-defying tightness.

“Sometimes It All Falls Into Place” does. It begins with a totally clean, seemingly impossible intro with every note of the angular theme played by the entire trio, Hollenbeck holding forth on drums a la Terry Bozzio in his “orchestral” settings. Much is written about composer-leader extraordinaire Hollenbeck , but discussion of his Bruford-comparable mighty chops is too often glossed over. After listening to this cut, there remains no question he should be regarded, as a pure player, among the world's elite skin- pummelers. Combs only solos in snippets when Willis drops off, injecting judicious use of what sounds like comped guitar chords on what could not possibly be bass. The track features a chops-laced performance by Willis on soprano, with an outro that is an even more complex extension of the intro.

The suite of songs is laced together by interludes. Some stand alone, like “Sunny Disposition," where Combs uses a slapped and buzzed cello against Willis' splats and bleats against textures from Hollenbeck's melodica, to craft a haunting, skeletal funk appropriate for a Tim Burton breakdance. On “Wind Up Monkey," simple but effective thumbed bass and punk rock double bass-pedal work (chopswatchers note: Hollenbeck only uses a single pedal) support the voracious vitriol of Willis’ inside-out Breckerisms.