Very few records are genuinely unique; musicians usually work with known frameworks, and in the rare instances where really new territory is charted, it doesn’t take long for settlers to arrive. When RCA released trumpeter Bill Dixon’s Intents and Purposes in 1967, however, it sounded like nothing under the sun, and for whatever reason, neither Dixon nor anyone else has explored further along the path he blazed here. On two short pieces for flute and trumpet, and two longer pieces for ensembles of five and ten musicians, he references modern classical devices as well as jazz, and creates a completely organic synthesis. The overall mood is somber and deeply reflective, though Dixon and his young reedmen, Byard Lancaster and Robin Kenyatta, do tear loose for some very impassioned statements. Despite these fireworks, what impresses most is the writing. The textures make us imagine Boulez collaborating with Ellington, the harmonies seem to unite everything from the earth to the sky, and beyond all of this is the sureness with which the music unfolds: a story telling itself in the only possible way, as even developments that seem superfluous when introduced prove to hold essential truths. This masterpiece has only gained in stature with the passing of time.