Whilst he and bandmates Cornelia Nilsson (drums) and Johnny Åman (bass) have collaborated with a wide range of renowned musicians, it’s this core group which seems to present Landæus’ music in its purest form. The trio’s many inventive approaches to interplay and composition have developed organically over the years, and the resulting album makes for a strong statement with much to discover. 

Mathias pays tribute to the freedom fighters of the world in his liner notes, and the musicians on this record undoubtedly belong to that group. 

Not ‘free’ in the conventional sense of a genre or style of play, but free to explore the songs as a collective; to shift between roles; to pull from the vast tapestry of jazz history. One moment, they evoke simple, familiar melodies, only to dive headfirst into intricate, ever-shifting harmonic landscapes the next. 

The Suzuki Andes Melodica – an instrument somewhere between a keyboard and a flute – appears on two tracks. In lesser hands, it could seem like a gimmick, but here it embodies the spirit of the group. Whether darting between tight, groove-based jazz lines or fleeting, free-form sketches, the music radiates a playful, almost childlike joy, inviting listeners to experience the process of creation in real-time. 

The essence of the jazz tradition, perhaps refined by Mathias’s time in 1990s New York, is undeniably present – the tune Clubs & Diamonds, is a prime example. However, there’s also a fascination with simplicity, as evidenced by a Sade cover, and an unwavering fearlessness to explore weightier themes. The music dares to reflect on the complexities of greed, humanity, and the relationship with our planet, imbuing each piece with thoughtfulness and emotional depth.

The formation of this trio tells a story in itself. When Åman joined more than thirteen years ago, drummer Cornelia Nilsson was a high school student in the audience. Now still only in her early 30s, her recent debut album saw her win Denmark’s biggest jazz award, The Ben Webster Prize – perhaps testament to both Landæus’s awareness of the scene, and the level the trio demands of itself.

“Improvised music” he explains “is a deeply human activity. The ability to connect and use your mind is something that humankind needs to cultivate in these times.” Then, a quick reflection: “At least that’s how I justify my greatest pleasure in life, which is playing with Cornelia and Johnny!”