NP3 finds Molvær pushing his trumpet into electronic territory, darker and more abstract than before.
By the time Nils Petter Molvær recorded NP3 (1997), he'd already established himself as a trumpeter willing to bend jazz into contemporary electronic spaces. But this album marks a real shift—it's his most experimental work, the one where he seems genuinely interested in what happens when you stop thinking like a jazz musician and start thinking like a producer. The trumpet is still there, still recognizably his warm, searching tone, but it's often buried or processed beyond easy identification. Tracks like "Phoenix" and "Khmer" build from ambient textures into something heavier, almost industrial. The production is meticulous and cold in places where you'd expect warmth. This isn't a comfortable album. It won't appeal to people looking for straightforward trumpet playing or song structures. What it does is create a specific mood—urban, late-night, slightly paranoid. If you've heard Passport (1999), his subsequent album, you know he eventually pulled back toward more melodic terrain. NP3 (1997) is the peak of his willingness to go weird. It sits between his earlier, more accessible ECM recordings and whatever came after, claiming territory that's entirely his own. Worth hearing if you're curious about how a jazz player can essentially abandon the jazz part while keeping the sensibility. It's a demanding listen, but honest in its refusal to comfort.