Pyramid

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Pyramid, the ninth album from Norwegian instrumental juggernaut Jaga Jazzist, opens with a track called "Tomita." That suggests some sort of homage to the pioneering Japanese electronic musician Isao Tomita, creator of massive film-score soundscapes and clever arrangements of classical favorites on analog gear. Sure enough, the piece begins in a Tomita zone, with a majestic opening theme surrounded by placid swirls of synths dancing into the foreground then disappearing. The rhythm kicks in after four or so minutes, and then the atmosphere changes completely: Suddenly we're in a sleek vehicle on an open road, moving rapidly and with little effort, gliding.

This section—and with Jaga Jazzist, the compositions routinely stretch to epic length, with broad themes tumbling into extended, super-intricate development sections—is a less obvious tribute. The eight musicians essentially reverse-engineer Tomita's slippery-eel swerves for a live band situation. They strive for the feeling of fluidity, the streamlined melody-forward simplicity of Tomita's creations.

It's a welcome development. On previous Jaga Jazzist records, the marathon excursions sometimes seem overwritten and jumbled together—small curiosities waiting to be threaded into a unifying big idea. Not here. Each of the four suites—especially the surging triple-meter romp "The Shrine" (named for Feli Kuti's club in Nigeria)—has clear and inventive melodies threaded into picturesque and approachable textures. Follow these, and you quickly realize that typical considerations of "song" are just level one. Jaga Jazzist, like Tomita and so many electronic musicians, are in the business of creating vast and totally engrossing journeys in sound. © Tom Moon/Qobuz