This recording could easily be dismissed on one listening as a sub-Argo collection of vaguely fashionable names. In fact, Haram’s latest offering has grown on me enormously, mainly because it is much more than the sum of its parts. As listeners, we are now in the intriguing position of watching the works of many of Haram’s favourite composers – and this, essentially, is how he defines this collection in his booklet-note – pass from the weird-beard fringe into the general repertoire. What is most interesting of all is how the process of interpretation becomes imposed, however benevolently, upon this music, much of which has antithetical origins in the tradition of composer/performers (Nyman), or which has been developed in relative isolation (Part), or which has come from the arty end of pop culture (Bowie, Eno). Haram’s premise is that these works were all originally vocal pieces and that these arrangements for saxophone and small ensemble substitute the lead instrument for the voice. Fair enough, then, and Haram comes close to apologizing for dusting off the overused comparison between the saxophone and the voice, too. He also indicates, quite casually, that he has allowed his phrasing to be shaped by the original textual elements of the works, which actually imparts an unexpected dynamism to what could otherwise have been no more than a clutch of pretty tunes drawn from the catalogues of the minimalists, new tonalists and other related suspects. The impeccably recorded results are subtly captivating and reward repeated listening.'