It’s always possible that they’re just being self-effacing, but the members of Captain Green probably meant the title of their third full-length studio album as a challenge, a la Public Enemy: this is the time of jazz-funk hybrid that dares you to listen to it, not because it’s musically inept—far from it—but because it’s sonically fearless. Time after time, on song after song, they carpet-bomb the space between your headphones, unleashing a commanding beat and then using every other weapon in their arsenal to lay down a psychedelic firestorm, one through which the brass section can march like a conquering king. Oh, it’s a party, but a terrifyingly fun one, the kind you’re not sure you’re going to come back from. But then, you know how those Baton Rouge free-jazz funksters are. Wait. Baton Rouge? Yes.
The centerpiece of all this glorious mayhem is a 14-minute, two-part blockbuster, correctly identified as “Dinogasm,” which can only be understood as Jurassic Park writ even larger, with stately brass exhibits suddenly exploding into action-packed chase scenes where a terrified saxophone tears ass across lush primitive soundscapes with a squalling guitar hot on its heels. It’s quite a stomper for a band that doesn’t utilize much distortion, and much more indicative of what a Godzilla reboot should have been like than P. Diddy ruining Zeppelin or some John Williams retread. And when you’ve caught your breath from that onslaught, you’re welcome to “Revenge of the Swedish Chef,” whose silly title belies the fact that listening to it is like riding a rickety, disused roller coaster down an avalanche. Hell, even an ostensibly quieter number like “Kitties Go to Sleep” gets up and wanders around after a few minutes, exploring its territory. Rarely has a 21st century jazz album from anywhere sounded this predatory; it bodes well for the survival of the species. And you can dance to it. (Carefully.)