Jazz is a language with countless dialects, and Junius Paul speaks all of them. The bassist is capable of playing with a certain elemental directness that never makes the physicality of his musicianship an afterthought, and his role shift from veteran sideman to bandleader here lets all the avenues of his expression out. The relentless tumult of opener “You Are Free to Choose” is music as colossal natural force majeure that leaves absolutely nothing that follows as uncharacteristic — you could go anywhere from there, and in the two and a half years these sessions span, Paul traverses Sun Ra-in-repose quietude (“View From the Moon”), pugilistic soul-jazz of a boom-bap bent (“Baker’s Dozen”), flesh-and-blood percussive Afro-minimalism (“Fred Anderson and a Half”), fast-forward hard bop that hits like McCoy Tyner gone thrash (“The One Who Endures”), and a glorious crash course in everything that made electric Miles amazing (“Spocky Chainsey Has Re-Emerged”).