There is, to my disappointment, nothing primal about this album. The jazz is tame, laid back, and pleasant, but not as the album title would suggest to an innocent passerby. The lack of assault on my eardrums is, frankly, offensive. Not only is Chesky's sound blendable and typical, but it is also forgettable. This could play in any hotel elevator, and my dad (who is tone deaf and like Kenny G) would absolutely adore this. I, on the other hand, am less appreciative of the unoriginal content that thoroughly underwhelmed me when I listened to this CD.