Antigravity is a new trio album from legendary trumpeter Jac Berrocal and two fellow travellers in the French avant-garde, David Fenech and Vincent Epplay. A lugubrious mise-en-scène in which ice-cold outlaw jazz meets musique concrète, DIY whimsy and dubwise studio science, all watched over by the lost souls and hungry ghosts of rock roll The Berrocal/Fenech/Epplay trio's first album together, Antigravity is a richly imagined universe combining original compositions and détourned standards. Berrocal revisits his own signature piece ock 'n Roll Station', which first appeared on his '77 LP Paralleles with chain-wielding, leather-clad wildman of British rock roll, Vince Taylor, singing the lead, and Berrocal on mic'd up bicycle; here, the Frenchman takes the vocal reins. A barely recognisable interpretation of Talking Heads' "The Overload' pushes beyond the bush of ghosts into a fourth world dread-zone of stalking drum machine rhythms, humid electronics and jagged guitar phrasing, while here Flamingos Fly' reroutes the Gil Evans Orchestra's classic rendition through the seamiest back-streets of the 13th arrondissement; there, as on the trio's reading of inder Lieder', the mood is romantic, but stark, isolationist: imagine Chet Baker falling through the glacial sound-world of early PiL or Scott Walker's Climate of Hunter. Originals include the agitated Iberian psychedelia of "Spain', and "Panic In Bali', which begins in seemingly trad-jazz fashion only to swell into a cacophony of a gurgling electronics and fevered "Lonely Woman' quotations. "Solaris" is a swirling, suspenseful arabesque of whiplash guitars and Black Ark FX, Berrocal's trumpet hitting deep blue notes while his vocals are sliced and diced and tossed into a yawning void of tape-delay - like Antigravity at large, the result is oblique, dissolving, forever out of reach. Despite the chilly, sometimes austere mood of the album, it is, ultimately, a deeply human and welcoming work, with a playfulness and sly humour pervading.