Despite the depth of the metal scene, it is, as in any genre, becoming increasingly difficult to create music that sounds genuinely innovative or unique. Zu are an Italian instrumental trio redefining the concept of ‘jazz metal,’ comprised of drummer Jacopo Battaglia, who provides high-quality percussion, a bassist in Massimo Pupillo playing the instrument loudly and gratuitously and saxophonist Luca Mai re-imagining the scorched soundscapes that the band throw up as a haven for luxurious brass textures, all constructed on an understated base of synthesizers.

The 2009 release Carboniferous is the most high-profile release in the band’s relatively lengthy catalogue, citing 1999 as its birth but thus far culminating in this release on landmark metal label Ipecac. The Ipecac brand is stamped over the record, with Melvins cult legend King Buzzo lending his sludgy trademarks to second track “Chthonian” and Ipecac stalwart Mike Patton appearing on mid-album stand-out “Soulympics” and closing track “Orc,” laying down a cerebral vocal on each, the former a cackling work-out and the latter, droning madness. The vocals are a weird look on Zu, whose music is more visceral, essentially rocking out in your face, but in as complex and as layered a manner as they see fit.

It’s one of those records where ‘time signatures’ is a buzz phrase. “Ostia” opens the album at a blast volume that hardly relents, with a significantly ominous sense of foreshadowing engineered by slick and frenzied bass tones and climbing drum lines. The track eventually unlocks its treasure to the tune of an orgy of sax (double-check, that’s s-a-x), the brass exploding into lubricious, ear-tickling form. It’s the heaviest saxophone I’ve ever heard. “Beata Viscera” and “Erinys” are a delightful one-two punch, twisting walls of bass subtly shifting their slippery form to nonetheless watertight precision, every aural crack filled in with spastic, wonderfully balanced drum licks. “Obsidian” has more of those incredible bass moments, as the guitar sounds elegantly fluid and keeps intrigue high.

Although the whole thing might represent a challenging listen at first, giving the album time to develop allows for an admiration of every arrangement and riff. All of Carboniferous interlocks marvellously, with a marked aggression that slots effortlessly into the not so much warm, but white hot sax pleasures offered up. One of the best summations of the formula is “Axion,” where after Pupillo and Battaglia have delivered their destruction, Mai wanders in to muse over the wreckage with a post-coital sax siren. It’s a self-explanatory argument for introducing more diversity to the genre, on an album which sign-posts the way to a world of undiscovered metal wonders.

by Michael