The late Finnish drummer/composer Edward Vesala was, by all accounts, a cantankerous sort, a fine instrumentalist (hear his strong percussion on Jan Garbarek's Triptykon, for instance) and an ambitious large-band leader.

This disc, with its somewhat overreaching title, was apparently conceived as a response to the increasing commodification of jazz in the '80s as represented by the lionization of Wynton Marsalis et al.

Unfortunately, Vesala's compositions tend to be claustrophobically dry, evincing little of the richness of musicians he professes in the liner notes to admire, such as John Coltrane.

There's a hint of George Russell in several of the pieces, but without that composer's sly humor and deep melodic sense.

Instead, there's more of a "third stream" sound, but one that has dispensed with a bit too much of the blues and wandered into a rather dry, occasionally even shrill, academic zone.

Similarly, when extending into rockish territory ("Winds of Sahara") or a Piazzolla-ish tango ("A Glimmer of Sepal"), it feels as though something essential is being restrained, as though Vesala is reluctant to simply let his ensemble surge forward unbound.

Fine instrumental work abounds, however, notably by the leader himself on drums and the Garbarek-laden tones of tenor saxophonist Jouni Kannisto.

In sum, the listener gets the impression that, although all the elements are in place for a fine album, excessive control has led to a dilution of the power that could have been.