Jean-Michel Pilc is a French pianist who decided at age 27 not to pursue the career his engineer studies had prepared him for. Starting in 2000, he broke into the collective conciousness on both sides of the Atlantic with a string of trio albums, accompanied by bassist François Moutin and drummer Ari Hoenig.

Despite being self-taught, Pilc is a virtuoso and on the above-mentioned albums, he makes sure you are aware of that fact. Pilc's trio has become a critical darling, but I, for one, am often left with a feeling of flash over content, brawn (and brain) over beauty. However, Cardinal Points is only in part a trio album, as the first half is given over to the continent-spanning quintet of Sam Newsome on soprano, James Genus on electric and acoustic basses, percussionist Abdou M'Boup and Ari Hoenig. The second half reverts to the familiar trio, performing the four-part "Trio Sonata". The quintet is no mere expansion of the trio's methods, but a completely distinct endeavor.

That virtuosity has been set aside as a primary concern is made evident from the first track: "Fred's Walk" alternates sunlight and gloom with Pilc's heavy and carefully imbricated chording over an African vamp. While not exactly relaxed, it is quite jovial and tinged with African melodic elements. Four successive tracks enumerating the cardinal points begin with "South", which is a faster variation on "Fred's Walk". Newsome joins in and, as he does throughout the disc, adds a touch of paranoia and darkness to the music as his lines take controlled skids off the paths drawn by the rest of the band. Here, Genus' electric bass is reduced to a weird, almost parasitic one-note throb that would almost be more at home as part of a Dizzee Rascal maelstrom.

As saxophonist and pianist loosely toss the lead back and forth on "Ari's Mode", they emphasize the lack of out-and-out soloing of the quintet format, quite a change for Pilc. A harrowing reading of Ellington's "Mood Indigo" (the only composition not penned by the leader) throws new light on what is generally an unproblematically lush pastoral scene: Newsome is broken and haunting, while Pilc draws tangentially-related figures (rather than comps) behind him. Finally, the title track is upbeat and seems to celebrate the end of the quintet's appearance and hand the proceedings over to the trio.

Parts 1 and 3 of "Trio Sonata" hover around the ten-minute mark and often seem to buckle under their own weight. Part 1 progresses from handclaps and a bluesy bass line to a cyclically climaxing piano solo, before accelerating through a series of motivic sections. There's a rare touch of humor when Pilc whistles more-or-less in unison with his piano in Part 3. The trio plays through Pilc's long-form composition studiously and yet, as Part 4 comes to its inconclusive ending, I am left wondering why, exactly I was dragged through all of that.

Throughout the album, no one mood is ever really maintained: It is as if while in one mood, the musicians were really thinking of the next. Individually, each musician adds something of value (Genus and M'Boup's earthiness contrast strongly with Newsome's etherealness, for example), but the whole never seems to gel enough to make a strong statement.