By Douglas Payne

Charles Lloyd's musical journey has been a quiet evolution from be-bop to free to modal to pop to rock to a spiritual/meditative mix of all the above. Canto, Lloyd's fifth and best disc on ECM, squarely falls into the last of these 'categories'. Even the title, which is defined as one of the principal divisions of a long poem, suggests this journey -- and Canto's role in it. Lloyd's perfected a way to structure sound so that he and his group play at and around varying themes. His full-bodied tone on tenor, which once suggested the influence of Coltrane, bring to life many moods, passions, even other cultures, while his rhythms set a narrative framework that seems constantly in flux. Like many great musicians, he is a restless seeker.

As always, he's inspired to this end by a significantly talented rhythmatist. In the past, it was Gabor Szabo, Keith Jarrett or Michel Petrucianni. Here, as it has been since 1989, Scandinavian pianist Bobo Stenson buoys and spars with Lloyd. It's his clean, percussive figures which ignite the tenor player and the aching warmth he injects into his playing that make so much of this music so compelling. Bassist Anders Jormin and drummer Billy Hart, both assets on last year's All My Relations, are also present here.

The 16-minute opener, "Tales from Rumi," builds such deliberate intensity that Lloyd isn't even heard until the sixth minute -- and the song's Arabic theme isn't stated until the eighth minute. The 13-minute "M," on the other hand, winds down from a classic Coltrane quartet groove into a solemn, exploratory middle Eastern mode. Lloyd never belabors his point (neither, for that matter, does Stenson). Both allow plenty of space for Jormin's walking bass and Hart's classic cymbal work to work their charms. And for those who would write off the icy charms of the ECM sound, or the wintry environs of this Oslo-in-Winter recording, take a listen to the warm, romantic sounds of "How Can I Tell You" and "Desolation Sound." Each of these tunes is strongly influenced by the sensual rapport Stenson and Lloyd share. It's a little like what you'd expect to hear Keith Jarrett doing on those famed recordings Lloyd made for Atlantic back in the 60s. These two songs, in particular, deserve to be heard by other performers -- and would probably attract attention if programmed into more radio formats. The 13-minute "Canto" (which hints at the theme to Lloyd's lovely "The Song My Lady Sings") is another highlight; mixing Stenson's minimalist soulfulness with Lloyd's deeply passionate playing. It's clear these musicians need time to tell their stories. Lloyd departs from the tenor only once on the disc and picks up his piercing Chinese oboe for "Nachiketa's Lament." Unfortunately, he steers clear of his wonderful, fiery flute here. But he's quickly back to tenor for the remainder of the disc.

Canto may demand a little more patience and attention for some to enjoy. But since these are clearly messages from within -- it's worth the time. This is one of the few recent examples of creative improvised music that really reaches out to grab a hold of its listener. Captivating and recommended.