Lotte Anker sax, Gerald Cleaver drums, Craig Taborn piano. Eerie, percussive, highly hypnotic. Cleaver, a native of Detroit, laid down various textures, ranging from tribal thumps to thunderclaps to a kitten’s claws inspecting a cymbal’s ridges—plus one nasty solo. Craig Taborn, the most critically acclaimed member of the trio, danced in the penumbra, displayed his admirable talent with dissonant chords and frenetic bursts without giving in to indulgent cacophony. His performance was alive but always deferent of the others' toes. While the Danish Ms. Anker, switching from tenor to alto to soprano sax, occasionally chirped and clipped and clacked, as is the wont of horn players of that discipline, but only to accent rich lines that floated through and above the products of the flanking sticks and hammers. All of which coalesced into a rich ether that dissolved two hours (two sets) into a late-night, outer-rather-than-other-worldly blur.