" data-original-title="" title="">Jessica Lurie's new aptly titled release Long Haul (Chant, 2017) is a statement not of an arduous journey of endurance, but of her devotion to craft over three decades that has seen her carve out a musical identity of great diversity and depth. Her career personifies her experience as a strong woman instrumentalist, composer and vocalist in a male dominated genre, steeped in joyous interpretive revelation. While citing influences ranging from Klezmer, to Cuban, to jazz, Lurie's music is her personal musical narrative expressed compositionally, and embellished with her inventive approach to improvisation.

It would be very easy to brand this record, and those Lurie has recorded previously, to be a fusion music, or a musical crossroads identifying cultural variance. But if one defines jazz as expressing the human condition, as the true original American art form, then the ethnic and cultural diversity of its artists and patrons must be expressed without inhibition. In this sense, Lurie is a jazz artist utilizing the cultural springboard that is her family roots, and traditions. Lurie often refers to her music as "weird folk songs," taking on the narrative that is her father's Jewish heritage, and her lifelong fascination with various forms, including classical music, and jazz.

The title track in many ways encapsulates Lurie's musical journey to date, her creative "long haul" that has drawn from an eclectic prism of tonal and rhythmic colors. My thoughts drifted towards Ravel at first listen, with the piece both opening and closing adrift in ostinato that defies the passing of time. The collective improvisation, highlighted by spirited interplay between Lurie's alto and pianist Brian Marsella, can be imagined as Buddhist chants rising from the collective om. These ostinato drifts surround a melody that provides a narrative seemingly without end, beautifully articulated by Lurie and Marsella.

There is a sonic resonance throughout this recording provided by drummer