On his latest release, pianist, composer and synth sorcerer Lawrence Sieberth embarks on an excursion deep into the realm of ambient, avant-garde jazz. Unlike his previous album, New New Orleans, a solo endeavor focused solely on the aesthetic qualities of the “New Orleans piano,” Arkipelago’s compositions aim to deconstruct all logocentric preconceptions associated with the genre. That’s not to say the album lacks a discernable theme. Hardly if you put time into deciphering the songs’ titles, you’ll uncover an evolutionary metaphor referring to the cyclical nature of life. Here, it’s the music that lacks a referential construct. Yet this is by no means music concrete. The spatial interplay between the music and the elements are not beholden to its context. This is discernibly jazz—the headiest of sorts— volatile, unpredictable, explosive and menacingly symmetrical. On Arkipelago, it’s the playing that governs the jazz, not the jazz that governs the playing. Think of it as function meets form.

As for the playing, it emerges from an eerie, ambient haze, clamorous and fierce, in shrill, frantic swoops and protracted, sinuous bursts, only to disappear once again beneath a creeping, foreboding current. Seemingly independent of each other, the cornet dashes hysterically, the bass indignantly stammers, the guitar writhes feverishly. All the while, the ominous, electronic vortex encroaches upon the horizon. Amidst the chaos, these streaks of virtuosity collide, and as paths intersect, collisions abound. Each crash leaves a distinct imprint on the musical landscape, sending remnants spiraling off into space until they all vanish into the ether. Fractal masterpiece or warp zone to nowhere—imagine listening to Miles Davis’ On the Corner recorded on top of Brian Eno’s Apollo Atmospheres and Soundtracks.