Lacy draws your attention to the "thickness" of a melodic line, its texture. His long held notes or parallel ascending and descending figurations are the equivalent of black-mark sound against the white ground of silence. The long-line opening of "Moms" (a double portrait of Lacy's mother and his wife) matches a sardonic downward fall with fanciful extended lines separated by a rude split-tone punctuation. The title track develops abstractions of extended technique -- playing into a piano, he creates ghost echoes from the strings before floating off into light whistles. But even at his most abstract, Lacy creates a sense of form ("Gospel" even has a kicky melodic hook). This collection of old and new pieces is a welcome addition to his 100-plus album discography.

-- Jon Garelick