The trio is the most intriguing configuration in jazz. Ultimately, it is about limitation and possibility, with only a few instruments to use in executing the dance of form and freedom. Sad to say, it is often abused by players who sound better than they are by conforming to formulas that are nearly as old as jazz itself. These old routines can thrill, too, when the musicianship is high and the mood is right-and straying from the old ways means taking risks. But put an adventurous inclination together with superb technique and an ability to listen and react, and that's when magic happens.

This was demonstrated by Bill Evans, Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian, who were effective at challenging their traditional roles because they pursued their innovations through traditional material. As documented in this package, which contains reissues of the Standards discs as well as the set of original works on Changes, Keith Jarrett, Gary Peacock and Jack DeJohnette have expanded on the trio legacy. First, they feel less hesitant than the seminal Evans threesome about nodding toward established practices.

Probably the most spectacular performance in this collection, "All The Things You Are" from Standards, Volume I, begins in a straightforward post-bop treatment, with Peacock walking steadily and DeJohnette punctuating his cymbal ride with offbeat accents. But as Jarrett's solo unfolds, the drums move from a clear 4/4 articulation and the bass more freely elaborates on the groove. At some point this takes shape as a bass solo, which then becomes a dialog between Peacock and Jarrett, with DeJohnette fading to practically nothing. By the last verse, they've pared down to a pure statement of the theme before descending on the final chord like a bird into its nest after a turbulent migration.

This is their approach through much of the Standards sets, most noticeably on "In Love In Vain," in which all three musicians follow the first verse with a chorus of parallel extemporization. A few lapses occur, especially on "God Bless The Child," a solemn trudge timed to DeJohnette's mechanical beat. This may owe to the trendiness of funk as a jazz flavoring at the time; whatever the reason, this performance stands out as feeling particularly dated and uninspired. Elsewhere, their take on "Never Let Me Go" compares to the classic Evans version like garish Technicolor to art-cinema black-andwhite; which one you prefer becomes a matter more of taste than substance.

The exhilaration that comes from taking chances is by far more prevalent here, leading from the Standards to more abstract and open forms on Changes, whose bass drones and long modal lines wander unencumbered by old-school song structures. When those chances pay off, as in the mind-blowing "If I Should Lose You"-don't miss that closing phrase in Peacock's solo, spaced perfectly between the beats of Jarrett's accompaniment-one can only wonder whether any trio will raise this bar higher.

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