Many outfits have made valiant attempts to seamlessly merge the cool mechanics of jazz with the mechanical cool of electronics — hell, 'ol Miles managed to do so with a bunch of Moogs and ARPs, not to mention his own version of "processing" courtesy of that trusty wah-wah pedal. The trio that comprises Ergo — trombonist and computer tech Brett Sroka, keyboardist/synthesist Carl Maguire, and drummer Shawn Baltazor — instantly call to mind another idiosyncratic trio, namely the Aussie band The Necks, but where that estimable triad regale you with a mutable brand of ambient jazz, Ergo opt for a tangible dazzling of the senses. More isn't less here; their panoply of noises sounds like an entire company of artists at work, so outwardly sensate is the entire recording. The merger of analog and digital isn't always completely convincing, but these brash upstarts have more than a trick or two up their sleeve; their compositional mien certainly passes muster.

Sroka's trombone seems to be the sinew holding the whole enterprise together, and he uses it in multiple fashions, both as background coloring and fundamental component. The twelve minute haunting environs of "Vessel" is a neat summation (and microcosm) of Ergo's modus operandi: Sroka blows some affecting lead lines around which Baltazor dances first nimbly then more forcibly (his flurry of cymbal orthodoxy recalls such disparate gents as the fleet Morris Pert and Sun Ra's Francisco Mora) while Maguire paints some subtle kaleidoscopic figures with his numerous keyboards, especially a gorgeous, chocolate-coated Rhodes. "Little Shadow" brings more austere glitches and digital filigree to the fore, complimented again by Baltazor, whose steely taps become another metallic pin in the aural cushion; if anything, the piece suggests what trumpeter Mark Isham might have done under similar circumstances had he simultaneously traded horns and plunged headfirst into the newest software.

"Endlessly (multitude, solitude)" incorporates the kind of sinuous blips and bloops more attributable to Kriedler or To Rococo Rot rather than the usually understood "jazz trio", but, then again, Ergo don't resemble anything remotely traditional, much less graspable. It's apparent they're searching for new contexts and idioms on this, their second disc, broaching a "fourth-stream", if you will, where abstractionism (née isolationism) is as important in their approach as such hoary absolutes as melody, harmony, and rhythm. Tradition is the illusion of permanence, however: Ergo unequivocally set forth to upset all known jazz apple carts, successfully fomenting new dialogues in the process.

Ergo: Multitude, Solitude Is On Sale at Squidco!