Andrew Barker: Bakunawa

William Parker turned 73 last month, yet despite sharing his newest release with the 54-year-old Andrew Barker and 46-year-old Jon Irabagon, his playing has never been as buoyant as it is here. All three New York staples have played with one another in various duos and orchestral arrangements (Barker himself is an alumni of Parker's Little Huey Creative Music Orchestra), but Bakunawa marks the first time all three have been recorded together.

In common fashion for Parker projects, the group has no leader. This rhizomatic structure allows the trio's many complicated dialogues to burst out unabated. Irabagon's sax headlines most of the record over Barker's complex multi-rhythmic drumming, reminiscent of his work for Mostly Other People Do the Killing in the aughts. Especially in the Irabagon-centric "Fly Anew" and sections of the labyrinthine "For Goya," the two mesh together into lightning-quick abrasions and thundering tenor-percussion dialogues. When Irabagon rips out the sopranino during "For Goya," their explorations turn explosive, ending in long droning caterwauling with an eastern bent.

For Parker, the record is an impressive show of his polyphonic potential. On "Morgan Avenue Second Line," he abruptly switches to the pocket tuba, croaking dark dripping licks for Barker's boisterous percussion to play with. On "For Goya" Parker plays the Catalan gralla, an obscure double-reed instrument rarely played outside of culturally specific music festivals. The gralla has a harsh billowing tone, an unmistakably medieval crooning apt for a track dedicated to such a macabre and garrulous painter. Parker relegates the rare sound primarily to the rhythm section, though he is at his most interesting in counterpoint with Irabagon's tenor.

Otherwise, Parker's bass is as sharp as ever, and it is his emotive sensitivity that strings the record's disparate tones together. Plaintive pizzicato mellows "Fly Anew" into a fascinating moody ballad, but he has no fear of challenging his colleagues in the thorny "Was One." Some especially dynamic plucking appears to open up Irabagon's tonal palette as the record marches to a finish. Notice how his bebop-esque fingering on the final track allows the sax both the guttural screeches of its opening section and his quick tongue near the end. He never directs his bandmates, but always precipitates an intense reaction through comparatively controlled playing. Parker is a master excavator, like a divining rod of potential soundscapes, attuned to both the emotional structure of a performance and which buttons to press in order to push his bandmates a step further. His robust rhythmic memory leads Irabagon and Barker down a seemingly endless maze of sonic environments old and new, resulting in a demanding experience for both player and listener.