UK newcomers such as Sons of Kemet have drawn young crowds toward British jazz in recent years, with danceable genre hybrids in which melodies are minimal and rhythms come from all kinds of world music. Vula Viel are close relatives: talkative percussion grooves based on West Ghanaian tribal songs are spliced with bass-synth effects and Albert Ayleresque free-jazz sax (from the Loop Collective’s Dan Nicholls and George Crowley) and the polyrhythms of two kit-drummers. The heartbeat of their sound, however, is the wooden gyil xylophone, made and played by Bex Burch, who learned its traditions at first hand over three years of village life in Ghana, and joined them to Steve Reichian minimalism and jazz. The album is crowded with diverting variations – steady rhythm patterns coloured by Crowley’s long-tone harmonising, funeral songs that shift from despondency to renewal and ringing minimalist mantras that become pounding jazz jams. Burch’s control of her craft, and empathy with its origins, seems to give the music an indefinable soulfulness to match its dancefloor vivacity.