Over a brief couple of years, guitarist Charlie Hunter has established himself as a maverick groovemaster among his fret brethren. With his custom made 8-string Novax guitar (with a fanned fretboard that allows him to double-up bass work on the bottom strings while freely chording on the high end), Hunter has introduced an exciting new instrument into the jazz lexicon while reviving an interest in old school soul-jazz, inspired by the swift movements of guitarists like Grant Green.

Percussionist Leon Parker has introduced an interesting array of polyrhythms into his rigid timekeeping, owing to early handiwork with saxist Dewey Redman, as well as forays with world beat. While Parker is familiar with a variety of settings, from big bands to his own solo album, Hunter comes from a lineage of ensemble work, trading tasks with three other guitarists in T.J. Kirk, a vibist for his recent Pound For Pound group, and a pair of saxophones in his own quartet. This intimate session with Parker, then, is the first to feature Hunter as a premiere guitarist instead of filling in as a surrogate keyboard player. In fact, except for the echoed atmospherics during a moody cover of "You Don't Know What Love Is," Hunter shuns most of the whirling Hammond speakers and delay pedals for a straight-up, be-bop styled performance here.

Kicking off with a blend of Parker's multi-tracked hand percussion (the only use of overdubs on the album), Hunter rips into an inviting Latinesque riff, "Mean Streak," that fuses the swift dexterity of Pat Martino with the vibrant, spicy tones of Cal Tjader. Following with muted blues, Parker's "Belief," the lonesome Hunter unfurls a wicked walking bass figure, peeling off lead licks and counterpoint chording that would be astonishing for any pair of players to recreate. But it's just the day job to Charlie, who effortlessly mixes melodies and textures in a set of funky romps ("Do That Then") and soft ballads (like the placid cover of The Beach Boys' "Don't Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)") that reveal the strengths of his playing capacity, rather than point to the novelty of them. Likewise, Parker multitasks in accordance to Hunter's quick shifting arrangements, often using shakers and bongos during the intros before blazing, Elvin Jones-like, behind a full kit.

Given a belated solo during the closing "Calypso For Grampa," Parker shows that he has his own ideas to explore, but often encourages the freedom for Hunter to groove throughout the disc by prompting him with brief fills and recessed beats. The chemistry on "Duo" still favors Hunter, but fans should enjoy the opportunity to hear him shine here, instead of being tucked away between a pair of saxes, proving his unusual playing style was no mean fluke.