Les Voies du Monde

This group of French avant-garde jazz improvisers are not always an easy listen, but there are rewards to be had if you persevere. Proceedings begin with short random vocal noises, perfectly mimicked by blasts of brass; eventually, after some abstract sonic kerfuffle and what sounds like expulsions of steam, a pulsing bass groove materialises out of the organised chaos. Some of the more accessible passages of music on offer are slightly reminiscent of Tom Waits’ soundtrack to Night on Earth, in the evocation of a city with its squalls of sound and rain-slashed sidewalks. Then, suddenly, there’ll be some ghosts from the past (a sample of chanting from the 1996 album of ethnographic recordings from which this record borrows its title) momentarily taking you into some remote tribe's homestead. But be warned: this 55-minute journey may seem longer than it actually is, given that some of the quarrelling sounds blasted at you have all the appeal of tinnitus. Having said that, a more traditional sense of melody does appear, as if from behind a cloud, during the final number.