Two years on from the first volume you might, like us, learn a few new bits of vocabulary. Because untranslatable words in the song titles become a theme throughout. These include the Arabic word 'Gurfa' - certainly not sheer guff - which has no direct correspondence in English but refers to the amount of water that can be held in one hand. Or how about 'Pana po'o' - no sniggering at the back, Quentin - the Hawaiian term to do with opting “to scratch your head in order to help you to remember something you've forgotten.” Still with us? Nod vigorously.
Sax, guitar, bass are the meat and two veg. Regardless of the fact that there aren't any drums the ensemble cook up some dishy treats from a rhythmically spicy recipe mainly because of the way the accents jut out and the serpentine rugged trajectories etched out enjoyably by saxophonist José Soares especially on 'Mencolek' (an Indonesian term about tapping someone deliberately on the wrong shoulder that throws them when they turn round and you have craftily shifted to their other side).
Double bassist leader André Carvalho knows how to do droney (without droning on) undertow and move beyond the beat - think Michael Formanek at his more avant-garde a bit in this. Guitarist André Matos who plays his instrument in sensibility terms a little like the way Paul Bley took to the shadowy hinterland of the piano, follows sax wonderfully on 'Poronkusema'. Ah, this review is turning into a Will Self deep dive. ''Poronkusema'' is a Sami measurement of distance, the distance, guv, a reindeer can travel before needing to stop to urinate. Significant information there Nordic opera fans settling down with your outdoor music loving pets, crossing your legs, hoping for miracles when the igloo curtain falls on Der Ring.
A live recording capturing in sunnier climes for posterity a Lisbon theatre performance last summer, tunes, plangent, often elaborate but full of guarded emotion, are mainly by Carvalho. The album becomes more avant-garde towards the end and probably even more texturally interesting the more that direction develops especially on the spooky 'Waldeinsamkeit'. Yet another untranslatable if by now preposterous term, German as it happens this time, meaning the ''feeling of being alone in the woods.'' It's not at all creepy - you're not really pondering who killed Bambi. And you'll never walk alone with this very fine walking dictionary of a band - whose own index is a sprightly A-Z spree tapping 1950s proto free-jazz ideas - for company. The Lost in Translation trio, photo: José Sarmento Matos