Douglas's piano-less quartet achieves a telepathic interplay that recalls the classic Davis sound.
What makes Leap of Faith (2000) work is the absence of what you'd expect. A piano-less quartet built around Dave Douglas's trumpet and Chris Potter's tenor saxophone means there's nowhere to hide, no harmonic cushion to lean on. The space between voices becomes everything. Potter brings a restless energy to his lines, never settling into comfort, and the rhythm section of James Genus on bass and Ben Perowsky on drums responds with the kind of intuitive give-and-take that justifies calling it a collaboration rather than a backing band. Douglas's writing here is more varied and inventive than on earlier outings, moving away from the compositional density of some of his 1990s work toward something looser, more conversational.
This is a record about listening. The four players are genuinely reacting to each other in real time, which means the arrangements breathe differently each time through a theme. Douglas's melodies often sit in the upper register, leaving Potter and Genus to define the harmonic space underneath—a swap from the traditional trumpet-and-rhythm dynamic. The result feels both familiar and unsettled, like you're hearing a conversation that could go anywhere.
By this point in Douglas's career, he'd already established himself as a prolific modernist, but Leap of Faith catches him working at a peak of collaborative trust. AllMusic reviewer Michael G. Nastos noted it as one of many triumphs from the 1990s, and listeners willing to sit with this stripped-down approach will hear why the quartet's second outing together matters more than the first.