Pharoah Sanders is not the Kangol-clad, cable-knit-sweater-wearing, electric-clarinet kind of jazz musician. A link between Coltrane's free-form experiments and the fusion of the '70s and '80s, he's done more to popularize and legitimate rule-bending dissonance than practically any other living artist (save, perhaps, Ornette Coleman). Sure, in recent years he's veered slightly toward martini-bar fodder, but beneath this slick facade lurks the same dense, unhinged spectacle that once re-articulated the possibilities of the tenor sax. Don't worry too much about things getting dull; even numbers that start as tappity-tap tend to end with a kaboom.