How do you bottle the improvisational lightning and brow-beading intimacy of a live jazz performance? Or transfer some of the scene’s collaborative, protean spirit into a coherent artistic statement? London-raised quintet Ezra Collective offer a mold-breaking answer to both those elusive questions on a debut record with its own bustling, multifaceted spirit. It would be easy to fall into the gravitational pull of the record’s two biggest guest appearances. And, yes, that’s fair. Both loose-limbed Loyle Carner bop “What Am I to Do?” and “Reason in Disguise”—a slinky Jorja Smith showcase with its own dark, smoke-wreathed magic—pay testament to the Ezra boys’ ability to create sumptuous, imaginatively tailored instrumentals that bring out the very best in their jazz-adjacent peers. But much of the record’s appeal lies in the genre-fluid inclusiveness of its less grandstanding moments; the freewheeling confidence and disciplined, driving groove that enables bandmates Ife Ogunjobi, James Mollison, Joe Armon-Jones, and brothers TJ and Femi Koleoso to hurtle from the woozy, wall-shaking reggae of “Red Whine” to the dueling, Afro-Brazilian horns of “São Paulo.” In this, they are very much honoring the experimental collectivism and varied influences of their roots (specifically, Tomorrow’s Warriors, the community jazz education program where they all met) while pushing past some of the showier, more exclusionary tendencies of jazz as a genre. Recorded at a breathless clip in just two days and clocking in at a relatively svelte 53 minutes, these 13 tracks are both an ode to methodical virtuosity and a rejection of ego and bloated, noodly indulgence. Which is not to say that there aren’t moments to bask in the majesty of musicians with an almost telepathic understanding and a flow-state command of rhythm. De facto bandleader Femi Koleoso’s drums bustle, herd, and snap, while TJ’s bass is a propulsive, Afrobeat-indebted wave; Mollison’s tenor saxophone and Ogunjobi’s trumpet bring a triumphal, second-line shimmer, as Armon-Jones’ mercurial keys swarm and drift. The feeling, solidified by a polyphonic, building cover of Fela Kuti’s “Shakara” alongside fellow collective KOKOROKO, is of a musical blueprint that would ultimately inculcate a Mercury Prize-winning follow-up [2022’s Where I’m Meant to Be]. “If a jazz band winning the Mercury Prize doesn’t make you believe in God, I dunno what will,” said Femi Koleoso, with a wry smile, in the aftermath of that convention-defying 2023 triumph. Well, You Can’t Steal My Joy was the first, sure-footed step on that history-making path. A monument to forceful ebullience, a testament to collective power, and a piece of jazz revivalism that celebrates and subverts all at once.