If you're into atonal jazz, but your friends aren't, this just might be the CD to convert them. McWain's compositions are accessible in the way that early atonalist Alban Berg's "Violin Concerto" is: the atonality is only a means of expressing a lyrical theme.

When McWain plays his piano alone on Starfish, or is only sparsely accompanied by Chris Poudrier on drums or a Noah Jarrett bassline, the music feels rootless, McWain's melodies stepping up and down with unpredictable intervals. The sound isn't linear, and it's easy to get carried away with it as McWain speeds up and devours more and more of the notes in his way. When Assif Tsahar joins in on tenor sax or on bass clarinet, suddenly this sounds like a jazz ensemble once again. His melodies are just as atonal as McWain's, but his phrasing comes more directly from the jazz repertoire, and isn't nearly as staccato as McWain's.

It speaks to the versatility of McWain's creations that his and Tsahar's interpretations can be so different and yet interact as fluidly as they do on Starfish. An example is on "Wind Can May," where Jarrett plays a repetitive bass theme that sounds like it's borrowed right out of Maurice Ravel's "Bolero." McWain and Tsahar start out playing the same melody, but after that gets comfortable, they each begin to play around the bass motif with their own respective styles. McWain plays a single-note melody that steps around the theme, whereas Tsahar plays a solo that ascends through the theme, breathy and swaying.

The music is challenging, but it's also intuitive. Your friends can sit down and listen and they'll probably get the hang of it pretty quickly. "This," you can tell them, "is how atonalism works." Maybe they'll nod politely, but then they'll probably want to go outside and enjoy the springtime air or something. But you can stay behind, enjoying the CD on your own.