Many listeners will not find For the Last Time an easy album to listen to. That has nothing to do with the quality of the music — which is uniformly excellent throughout — but more with the poignant memories it conjures up. The album was recorded in January 2012, in Bristol. Three months later, drummer Tony Marsh died of cancer, aged 72, a death which sent shockwaves through the London improv community of which he had been a vital and popular member for many years. Although it was never planned as such, this album acts as a fitting memorial for Marsh, showcasing him in a context which displays him at his subtle, empathetic best. As saxophonist Paul Dunmall's sleeve notes say of Marsh, "He was one of the most musical drummers that ever was — his use of space, brilliant touch, dynamics and most of all his total concentration. He always seemed in control and somehow made it look effortless, but I know he was really working hard to make the music special..." Marsh's performance here perfectly demonstrates that description. As so often, he did make the music special.

This trio combines Marsh and Dunmall with Phill Gibbs on electric guitar — a combination that works better in practice than it reads on paper, despite Gibbs' occasional overuse of pedals to enhance his guitar sound. Although they had not played together as a trio since It Escapes Me (DUNS, 2000), Dunmall had regularly played in duos with Marsh and with Gibbs, and it is obvious from their music that the three knew each other's playing well and felt comfortable together. From the very first notes, all three sound relaxed and at ease with one another. Rather than there being any hierarchy of soloist plus support, this is a trio of equals in which ideas flow around freely between them. If heard in isolation, each player could sound like they were freely improvising alone; but when the three strands are listened to as a totality, their interdependence is all too apparent as they weave in and out of each other, reacting, responding and goading, in a complex three-way conversation.

Across six tracks, lasting over an hour, the nature of that conversation is mercurial and ever-changing, with each of the three occasionally coming to the fore but none of them dominating the others. Dunmall switches between his tenor and soprano saxophones and flute; the latter supplies some particularly plaintive, melodic passages on "Lizzie", where Marsh's understated tom-tom accompaniment is a textbook example of his artistry. The album ends on a high with two appropriately titled pieces, "See You Again on the Cosmic Blue Cloud" and "For the Last Time"; Though never intended as laments, these both serve the purpose perfectly, being centred on soaringly beautiful melodies from Dunmall, with the closing track featuring fine propulsive drumming. Had Marsh not died when he did, we would have been saluting this as a thoroughly excellent album. As it is, the album also serves to emphasise what we have lost...