The "flying" in the title of the two-part composition that comprises much of this disc is of an ecstatic, interior kind evoked in an epigraph from German mystic poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Jarrett soars and dives, shifting like a flowing and mingling of joy and tears from intensity to quiescence, from yearning to momentary attainment to resignation. Through tumbling, questing piano explorations, he exhorts himself along. Impressively, he succumbs little to the danger of mere mannerism--of faking ecstasy. His trademark neighing vocalization might be interpreted as a contorted shadow of his soul in flight.Jack DeJohnette is, of course, the perfect drummer for the undertaking. He locks in, rock solid. As readily as he can produce extended, filigreed cymbal lines, he can muscle the traps, swaying and elaborating like a mighty, rumbling machine of percussion. Gary Peacock's bass is, as ever, singing, soaring, and in perfect sympathy with Jarrett's endeavors. A fine document of an astonishing trio. --Peter Monaghan