Against the sedative effects of summer, why not trying this first-class effort by saxophonist Rodrigo Amado (here on tenor exclusively), a concoction of fevered conversation and out-and-out duels with trombonist Jeb Bishop putting smooth-talking political relations aside, but still keeping things inside the borders of well-behaved directness. Every time I tackle a record whose characteristics derive from “emancipated” kinds of jazz, the risk of sounding cryptanalytic is high. Someone utilizes figurative comparisons – joining of rivers, etc. – to describe similar types of interplay; others will probably think that all reviewers are either a bunch of desperate men who need to circumnavigate truths via technicolor nomenclatures in order to complete 200 words, or nincompoops that will accept everything with a reed and a walloping pulse as bible. But there is indeed a way to ascertain if and when jazz is interpreted seriously, and this set diffuses scents of earnestness just everywhere. Taken for granted that (brilliant) Miguel Mira’s cello sounds like a double bass in the mix – and imposingly so – and that Gabriel Ferrandini’s drumming teaches a lot on the “volatility versus moderation” theorem, there’s no questioning the near-perfection reached by Amado and Bishop during many of their transactions, which in the longest track “Imaginary Caverns” leave room for thoughtfulness and equanimity in between the rippling vehemence of the most blood-and-gut blowouts. Across this multifarious blend of passion, hard-faced substance and technical flawlessness, not a ho-hum section in sight. The only danger is deafening yourself when pumping this stuff in the iPod while walking across the city at rush hour, a moment in which Burning Live functions as the ideal soundtrack.