Solal's piano darts and weaves around Zoller's guitar and Koller's tenor in real-time dialogue.
From the first notes, this is intimate chamber jazz — three players responding to each other with the kind of attention that only happens when everyone is listening. Martial Solal's piano doesn't dominate; it dances around Attila Zoller's guitar and Hans Koller's tenor saxophone, all three voices trading ideas without anyone stepping back. There's no rhythm section, no safety net, just three musicians working out what comes next together.
The repertoire mixes standards and original compositions, but the real subject is the interplay itself. Solal's touch is clean and rhythmically restless — he'll suggest a chord, then complicate it, then move somewhere else entirely. Zoller responds with warm, melodic lines that never feel rushed, while Koller's tenor adds weight and texture, sometimes leading, sometimes following. What strikes you is how little wasted motion there is. These aren't players showing off; they're having a conversation you're allowed to overhear.
This sits comfortably among Solal's many small-group recordings of the era, neither a signature achievement nor a footnote. For listeners already interested in how European jazz developed its own language away from American models, it's worth seeking out. It's also the kind of record that rewards repeated listening — a second or third pass reveals how carefully each player shapes their lines to fit the moment.