Sooäär, Yaralyan, Ounaskari: Zula

A group sound is a precious thing. It may take years to develop, or it might spring, fully fledged, from the offing. Either way, it is a calling card and a brand. Tinkering with it too much might risk alienating loyal fans. The trio of Estonian guitarist Jaak Sooäär, Finnish drummer Markku Ounaskari and Armenian bassist Ara Yaralyan seems to subscribe to the 'no tinkering' credo. Its third album, Zula is cut from the same cloth as Shooting Star (o-tone music, 2018) and Goodbye July (o-tone music, 2020), albums marked by extremes, but with a folksy, chamber jazz aesthetic at their respective cores.

Such stylistic continuity owes much to chief composer Sooäär, whose penchant for lyricism and handsome melodies leaves a deep impression on the music. As a guitarist, he exhibits an almost classical finesses at times, his feathery caress frequently drawn to arpeggios. Take the folk-tinged "Old Dance," for example, which unfolds with a stately grace; It would not take a great leap of faith to imagine Sooäär and Yaralyan's interlocking lines played out on theorbo and lute, at least until their respective solos impose a more contemporary hue.

In parallel, the trio also has abundant fire in its belly, with visceral tunes like "Always Alive" and "Mia" sounding like the willing heirs of John Abercrombie, Dave Holland and Jack DeJohnette's Gateway. Rhythmically vital, Ounaskari and Yaralyan strike a tantalizing balance between insistent groove and devil-may-care freedom, an inviting environment for Sooäär to stretch out in. An absorbing guitarist, Sooäär can carry a tune with little more than chordal progressions, fashion mazy single note runs, or, as on "Listening to the Night Sky," cast a meditative spell with the lightest of touch.

As on the trio's previous albums, Yaralyan contributes an arrangement of a traditional Armenian tune. There is a hymnal quality to "Tsakhik em khakhel," crowned by the bassist's yearning solo. Thereafter, the trio takes flight on a brief but spirited contemporary jazz side-path before returning to the serene head. On this evidence, it would be fascinating to see the trio deliver a whole album of jazz-refracted Armenian, Finnish and Estonian traditional tunes.

At just over two minutes, the sprightly "New Costume" may be the shortest tune on the album, but, with its sunny melody and keen interplay, it is also one of the most alluring; This is not a trio that over-eggs a good thing. The album closes on a high note with "Waltz in Kadriorg;" Driven by Sooäär's inventive lines, it further underlines his credentials as a leading contemporary jazz guitarist. And like the rest of this impressive album, it also affirms the trio credentials as one of highly distinctive character.