Credit: Mark Tucker/Verita Vampirus

One can't help but be temporarily thrown into lovely disarray during the opening moments of “Agra”, the initial cut to Petal with it's bafflingly myriadic collision of global influences carefully, skillfully, dizzyingly woven into what, one soon finds out, continues throughout the opus and indeed the entirety of the CD. Sundar Viswanathan, the spine of Avataar, hails from Sudbury, a mining tiown in North Ontario, but is of Indian distillation and carries that vintage bone-deep yet has absorbed a bewildering array of modern modalities to such an extent that one can only call his work 'progfusion', with antecedents in the earliest World Music era of progressive rock merging with post-Miles fusion - Turning Point, Aquarelle, Between, Isotope, Iceberg, Long Hello, etc. - and which has been surviving fitfully, best heralded by the MoonJune label.

As one might expect, seeing the Canadian origins, this heady collection of 10 songs was underwritten to one degree or another by the Canadian Council for the Arts, perhaps the most stupendous such organization in the world and responsible for one hell of a lot of superb outings both famous and obscure. Exempting those of the idiot Trump-ophile clan, observant listeners understand the CCA is a stellar example in what socialistic ways handily produce, Avataar exemplary among a line of top-shelf issuances in a catalogue over many years.

Viswanathan handles alto and tenor saxes residing somewhere between Klaus Doldinger and Gilad Atzmon with definite be-bop backgrounding in smooth narratives and spiky solos. Felicity Williams is the 'melisma unit' of the band even when encanting evanescent lyrics, a Flora Purim / Urszula Dudziak / Pepe Lemer / Lani Hall kinda singer floating like a bluebird above the instrumental bedrock. Samidha Joglekar provides gorgeous solo Hindustani refrains in "Raudra" with Viswanathan dancing his sax all around her until the rest of the band, Williams included, steps in, and a fulsome garden of delight opens up.

Michael Occhipinti wields a fusionistic six-string at times with wicked velocity and alternating between Gary Boyle, Larry Coryell, Pat Metheny, and John McLaughlin in his Shakti incarnation (catch the solo in "The Long Dream"). Justin Gray prefers to color in the mysterious darker backgrounds in bass work, neither threatening nor moody but as contrast to the scintillating aspects of the ensemble: if there's sun, we must, I'm sure you'll agree, have shadows. How could things possibly be otherwise?

Finally, Ravi Naimpally provides the ceaseless tabla so environmental to the Carnatic mode and which Colin Walcott made irremovable within Oregon. I often think Jon Christensen must've taken much in his unique style from Carnatic music, and Naimpally seems to prove this. His percussives are simultaneously invigorating and soothing as drummer Giampaolo Scatozza puts the sticks to his kit in the most unobtrusive fashion, companioning Naimpally by river-flowing his part just beneath everyone, almost a second bass guitar. Nothing in the entirety of Petal is quite as you’ll expect, even if you’re already steeped in the exotic mode, and the amount of intelligence is quite arresting.