Orbits is an album that bridges the deep, exploratory roots of Sun Ra and Alice Coltrane’s cosmic jazz with a warm, radiant, and remarkably accessible sound. It feels like it could have been pressed onto vinyl fifty years ago, but without the sense of disorientation or inaccessibility of the genre’s most famous pioneers. The opener Constellation layers instruments one by one with double bass, piano, percussion, horns, and eventually a choir circling around simple harmonic frameworks to create music that’s vast and evocative yet soothing, like watching the stars turn slowly above you.

The record works with a simple balance, often cycling between two simple chords but giving every instrument from the vibraphones and bass to the woodwinds and pianos the freedom to swirl and spiral around them. On Mizu the group lean into samba to produce a groove so sunny it could soundtrack a street parade, and Seki brings a touch of Parliament-Funkadelic’s softest, spaciest side. Amina pulls back into a downbeat woodwind meditation, while Flying swings forward with dazzling mallet runs and intricate percussion, keeping everything in perpetual motion. The closer Evenin leaves us with a dubby saxophone and flute combo weaving through the shadows, and it’s striking how little this album relies on experimentation for its power. Where cosmic jazz often chases dissonance and intensity, Orbits is defined by a professional flow, the band using their virtuosity to envelop rather than to overwhelm. The result is a record that works well for those who might normally find jazz intimidating, traditional in sound but avoiding pastiche and carving out its own space of beauty, atmosphere, and groove. Orbits is less about pushing the form outward, and more about creating a feeling of calm wonder, evoking constellations and planets drifting to soothe you in the night sky.