1966, the year in which Ramblin’ was recorded – now finally available and ‘restored to its former glory’, putting an end to fans’ anxieties about getting their hands on a copy – marked a major turning point for the American pianist: for the first time, he included three of the six tracks composed by his new wife Annette Peacock (Both, Albert’s Love Them and Touching) and just one by his now exwife Carla Bley. It is not so much the tabloidstyle story that is of interest, but rather Paul Bley’s embrace of a new aesthetic: whilst Carla is known for the formal rigour of her writing, even when inclined to deconstruct it into free jazz (Ida Lupino, featured here, is a shining example), Annette’s inspiration is often devoid of tonal centres and focused on the juxtaposition of fragments tied to the here and now of improvisation.

The trio he chose to record with is one that has made history: Mark Levinson on double bass and Barry Altschul on drums, who remain one of the most intuitive and imaginative rhythm sections open to experimentation (the ones most ‘accountable’, so to speak, for the success of avant-garde music). What makes Ramblin’ so valuable, however, is not merely the quality of its performers, but the living proof of how important it was for Paul Bley to utilise the openings of deconstructed musical spaces, whilst equally avoiding ‘freedom that leads nowhere’.