In a "genre" already trading in innovation and surprise — avant garde jazz — Phases of the Night is a surprising album. This is truly edge-of-your-seat music.

Perhaps the most overarching reversal of expectations arises from familiarity with the players. Marilyn Crispell, Barry Guy, and Paul Lytton are big names in the world of outsider jazz. Crispell is perhaps best known as the pianist in Anthony Braxton's legendary quartet of the 1980s and early '90s, and Guy and Lytton are well-established as the tornadic rhythm section of the Evan Parker Trio. One might, then, be forgiven for expecting a somewhat engaging extension of the Cecil-Taylor continuum. Far from it. While these players often employ their recognizable styles, their interactions here defy predictions.

On the title track for example, expected trajectories either fail to take shape or to unfold in familiar patterns. It begins with an astoundingly virtuosic solo bass intro by Barry Guy. Guy employs split-brained variety of plucking, fingering and arco techniques simultaneously that make him sound like two bassists. Pixels of Crispell and Lytton gradually begin to dot the sonic landscape, and tension builds. Yet the piece avoids "fade-in, blow, fade-out" structure of much improvisation. At one point in this track, surprisingly, the generally loosely-structured playing gels into a motif that is reminiscent of Brubeck's "Blue Rondo a la Turk."

Other tracks on the disc are equally multi-faceted and engaging. In "The Invisible Being Embraced," the opening piano chords evoke the foreboding of some of Chopin's and Scriabin's works, while another section of the same piece has the contemplative, atmospheric feel of a Paul Bley trio. Even the most uniform piece, "With My Shadow," offsets an exploratory middle section that practically uses silence as a fourth band member, and works its way toward a rather surprising ending.

All of the tracks here are described in the packaging as being compositions, but the music itself subverts the expectations that such a label can evoke. There are clearly sections in these works, but it is generally quite difficult to tell what is improvised and what is composed here. Nor does it matter, because the dramatic unfolding of these pieces makes the improvised/composed issue practically irrelevant for listeners.

In his liner notes for the disc, Guy invokes the notion of Surrealism to describe the aesthetic the compositions and players employ. He describes the intent to juxtapose materials and, like the Surrealists, to evoke the logic of dreams and the subconscious. The contrasts in the actual recording, though, don't involve the sleepy fluidity often associated with "dream-like" music, and tend to be starker. The result is not is not as extreme as pointillism a la Zorn, however. Rather the various sections receive ample exploration, and the transitions make solid musical sense in context.

If this album is lacking anything, ironically, it is more showcasing of the composer's incredible bass work. But this is essentially an organic group effort, and the effectiveness of these works reaffirms that Guy is as effective a composer as he is an instrumentalist. Highly, highly recommended.