It would be a fool’s errand to try to keep up with everything William Parker produces. Still, he is the in-demand bassist of our time for a reason and I would contend that pursuit itself would pay off even if success would be impossible. When you see album with Parker listed, you know that at least half of the rhythm section is going to be exceptional. On Pulsar, Parker companies with long-time Rotterdam-based collaborators drummer Phillipp Ernsting and alto saxophonist Hugo Costa. And Ernsting and Costa disappoint no more than Parker does. To be more direct, this trio works, not just because of Parker’s work, but because Ernsting and Costa hold their own.

The music is unscripted. The first track, ”Pulsar”, starts with a quick statement by Parker, which invites Costa’s splotchy pointillism. He is bouncy and claggy, but controlled. He is acrobatic, but focused. (The colorful, multimedia cover art by Martynas Ivinskas embodies a similar blend of features.) Ernsting is an interesting counterpart to Parker. While Parker goes big and deep, Ernsting skeeters across the background. He is busy, but quiet and delicate.

The second piece, ”Fogo em Escalada”, begins more quietly, as the trio refines the finer points of their interactions before tumbling into a clunky rumble in the vein of the previous track. The music is full and dense, but never crowded and it dances right below reckless abandon. This leaves space for all three musicians to stretch out, Paker laying then dismantling heavy grooves and Costa spitting out short, frothy phrases. Again, Ernsting stands out, especially when he takes over halfway through, mixing equal portions Han Bennink and Milford Graves into a multi-colored tincture that leaves the listener with a slight residual buzz. Actually, the entire album can be considered in those terms. This is certainly potent enough, but does not reach for the higher proofs, or shocks, or states of euphoria. It just offers tastes, and does so to great effect.

“Words of Freedom” follows, which seems to feature Parker on flute and some high-pitched reeds. (The liner notes just list bass, but clearly something different is happening here.) The result is an improvisation that moves a few steps further toward the fire music side of the spectrum that the trio had previously flirted with. I am not sure whether Parker is pushing Costa in this direction or vice versa. Either way, Ernsting drives it beautifully from his kit and Parker and Costa first soar, then swoop about two-thirds in as Ernsting slows his galloping boil to a low simmer, Costa calms in tow, and Parker switches to flute, the combination of which draws the piece to a rather tranquil conclusion.

To return to the cosmic implications of the title, one can think of this release as a satellite, surveying a pulsar from a distance. It never gets so close as to immolate, but it maps spaces of eruption and smoldering around the star in vivid transcription, before settling back its solitary but welcoming launch-point.