It takes a particular talent to remove the stitching of various musical cloth and thread together a tapestry that feels as if it’s seamless and natural. Jigzag have that singular talent. This, their second album, is not easily classifiable, and nor should it be. The trio – of guitar, violin and double bass – blend acoustic folk, pop, Celtic, jazz and even country swing; these streams flow into a river that glistens on the surface with sunlight, yet has a musical and emotional depth to it. The album kicks off with the infectious joy of the title track, which was born from busking days in Sydney. Man of Wood, a piece of jazz bravado, follows, written and sung by Liz Frencham, it shows the ease with which this trio can handle a change of direction.

Interspersed with the originals are interpretations of Celtic instrumentals, including a melancholy and mood-riven version sung by Caroline Trengove of She Moved Through the Fair. The musicianship, whether ensemble or soloing (guitarist Greg Bryce’s switch from one style to another mid-song is impressive) is of a constantly high level. The harmonies show a special chemistry, no more so than on Between the Darkness and the Deep, an achingly tender ballad. The coalescence of voices sends shivers down the spine, and there’s no greater tribute to musicians than that they can make ring, like a spoon on a glass, a resonant chord within.