For some 20 years, alto saxophonist Steve Coleman – the anti-Pope to Wynton Marsalis's pontiff, and what a choice that is – has been pursuing a credulous obsession with numerology.
This has resulted in perhaps the most unattractive sound in the history of jazz, whose stop-start time-signatures and angular mumbo-jumbo remind you of a bad Yes album from the 1970s. This quintet session adds truly dreadful scat singing throughout, ruining the album's one good tune, "Clouds".
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