Following his debut for the label, the duo album Alba with trumpeter Markus Stockhausen, German pianist Florian Weber releases his first disc as leader for ECM. Here he is working with another trumpeter, the American Ralph Alessi, who, after two albums of his own for the label, returns here as sideman, with his regular collaborator, drummer Nasheet Waits, in tow. Completing the quartet is Korean bassist Linda May Han Oh, making her first appearance on ECM. This is a meditative record, evoking that same bright, watery northern European light as other releases on the label by the likes of Kristjan Randalu, Mats Eilertsen, and Sinikka Langeland. Alessi's own albums for ECM, particularly Quiver, were freer, more joyous flights of fancy. Here he follows Weber's lead to create a more restrained, yet expansive soundworld, his trumpet often muted; and while he actually only appears on fewer than half of the album's eight tracks, his contributions go a long way toward shaping the overall sound. There's great beauty here in elegance and restraint, with the quartet rarely cutting loose. Sometimes austere, Weber's pianism can also be rich and deep. His classical background can easily be heard in impressionistic sketches like "Brilliant Waters" and "Melody of a Waterfall." In the latter, water courses down in tinkling piano runs to pool in thick clumps of bass notes, then swirls in an eddy of drums. Many of the pieces start with a circular piano figure from Weber before the others gradually build up layers. "From Cousteau's Point of View" is like this; one of the standout tracks here, it's warm and richly expressive, with Alessi's trumpet airily floating over the top before Weber's classy solo. "Butterfly Effect" is a smooth showcase for the whole ensemble, with loads of space. While playing with restraint, everyone gets a turn to shine; there's a richly melodic trumpet line from Alessi, and a great solo by Oh. "Time Horizon" and "Fragile Cocoon" bring things up a bit; the latter is the album's only real wig-out, with Alessi blowing freely and Waits unleashing drum roll after drum roll throughout. Finally, "Schimmelreiter" ("Rider on a Pale Horse") brings things to a close with a gorgeous, evocative piano line from Weber. Faintly sinister, verging on atonality at times, it conjures the dusty, abandoned hallways and overgrown gardens of a crumbling stately home before ending on a hanging note halfway through a phrase. Superbly played but rarely flashy, this is a rich and beautiful album, full of space, revealing new depths with every repeat listen.