The now venerable Eremite does not release music at random. Known for the services it started rendering to the free jazz scene in the mid ’90s, the label has in recent years escaped easy labeling, even if its roots are still in evidence. This is also true of the thematic Onilu, an eight-track, three-drummer project initiated by Philadelphian Kevin Diehl. Diehl is among the few musicians still claiming (non-bankable) drum great Sunny Murray as a mentor, but the album doesn’t sound anything like the great avant garde waves that washed upon 1960s shores. The senior member of the Onilu trio is Joe Chambers, whose drumming (and vibraphone playing) started appearing on classic Blue Note albums in the mid ’60s; he is also a surviving member of Max Roach’s all-percussion group M’Boom, a forebear that fortifies the groundwork of Onilu. As a young musician, Diehl witnessed the NYC loft scene of the following decade, and the ensemble’s youngest member, Chad Taylor, is a founder of the quarter-century-old Chicago Underground collective. What strikes the listener first is the openness of the trio’s sound. Unlike many historical (and often short-lived) percussion-only projects, there is no frantic attempt at filling the space left open by the absence of traditional ensemble members. Every sound is precisely struck and precisely situated. The musicians sift through a large variety of percussion instruments— trap sets, vibraphone, marimba, various Afro-Cuban percussions, thumb piano—but in an organized and most often melodic manner. The materiality of the percussion—metals, woods, skins—beautifully shines through on this excellent studio recording (instrument details are also usefully provided). Although the drummers could obviously play as fast as their predecessors often opted to do on percussion-centric recordings, an unusual calmness permeates the music. Soon, the album turns into an uncanny stillness above which the grooves and repeating patterns seem to rise and float, not in a haze of sound but with great clarity. Except for a Hutcherson cut and a tune included on a 1970s Nonesuch Explorer LP, the album’s numbers are all originals. The short forms used are a strong point of this session: they are more reminiscent of the relaxed freedom found in some modern electronic music than of traditional jazz forms. The record’s longest track, “A Meta Onilu” (almost seven-and-a-half minutes), takes things one step further, showing development possibilities for the project. Onilu stimulatingly shows what can be done today, in terms of autonomous, small ensemble percussion music.