Chris Speed's band Yea No combines eastern folk melodies with free jazz, aching accordion textures and brilliant drumming from the extraordinary Jim Black.

Black got things off to a typically idiosyncratic start by playing a cymbal with a violin bow. An ominous bass ostinato from Skuli Sverrisson was overlaid with Cuong Vu's strangulated trumpet shrieks, after which accordionist Ted Reichman eased the band into a folk-tinged lament.

Speed's compositions based themselves around an intricate web of interlocking parts. Angst-ridden sonorities carried undertones of barely controlled anger and occasional blind panic, usually expressed by sudden descents into howling dissonance. Through it all, Black remained a guiding light, grinding out a trashy funk rhythm here, deploying a futuristic drum'n'bass groove there, coaxing a hundred different sounds from his kit.

As the air of moody introspection briefly lightened, Vu's trumpet and Speed's saxophone engaged in some thrilling counterpoint. They called out to each other, squabbled, made up and finished each other's sentences before descending once again into combat. Reichman's accordion filled every space with its wheezing world-weariness. At one point it tried to break into a sea shanty-like melody, but this was seized by the rest of the band and torn into angry shreds.

While sharing musical touchstones with such fellow pioneering countrymen as the Hub and the Vandermark 5, Speed lacks their sense of mischief. Free jazz meets eastern folk, Mingus rage and vintage prog-rock: it sounds very serious on paper but need it be quite so brow-beating in practice?