It's nice when an album does exactly what it says on the tin, isn't it? Nursery Rhymes from Bill Wells and Friends, is one such album. In spite of any thought that I might have had that it might be an ironically obtuse dark jazz album or some such, it is in fact a set of incredibly well put together takes on all of your favourite nursery rhymes. If there's one you loved that isn't here I'd be deeply surprised.

Bill Wells, through his work with Scottish Jazz Trio and Aiden Moffat, is well known as a fine purveyor of modern jazz in Scotland, and this album will only serve to cement that reputation. Featuring a bevy of collaborators, notably Yo La Tengo, who add a little bit of muscle to 'Three Blind Mice', 'Humpty Dumpty' and 'Lavender Blue' (yes, I did just write that phrase) and several brilliant vocalists, including Isobel Campbell from Belle and Sebastien, this is an album with pedigree and no little gravitas.

It might seem hard to believe, but 'Three Blind Mice' grabs your attention from the first downbeat, and the album doesn't let up at any point. As a slightly distorted bass part, a spidery guitar line and Karen Mantler's breathy vocal combine, it is immediately apparent that this is a format that will work. What is impressive is the way that the instrumentation of the track is fresh and incisive. Chord progressions go entirely the wrong way, they jar and prick your attention, but always the vocal melody is comforting as you remember it. As a glorious coda of a major-to-minor piano chords and a guitar freak out redolent of Sonic Youth (no, really) swing by, I'm hooked.

Several tracks here, such as 'Polly Put the Kettle On', 'Hickory Dickory Dock' and 'Hot Cross Buns' come in at comfortably under two minutes, but each has something substantive about it. 'Polly...' has a sorrowful lilt to it, whilst 'Hickory..' cascades, somewhat like a clock (see what they did there) with a light and airy drum part providing the main focus. 'Hot Cross Buns' carries with it a sense of foreboding. The combination of a brilliant vocal performance from Michael Cerveis and some sumptuous Wells piano augmentation make it an album standout. That it's followed by the equally brilliantly realised 'Ding Dong Bell', in which Bridget St. John takes centre stage gives the middle of the album a heavyweight sense.

Undoubted highlight though is 'Humpty Dumpty'. Amber Papini provides an emotive yet dry vocal take, while Yo La Tengo and Wells turn the track in to something which truly brings the horror of Humpty's plight to light. By its end, you will feel sympathy for Humpty Dumpty and be raging at the incompetence of all the king's men, and even his horses which, when you think about it, has always been faintly unfair, but still there you are. That moment is when you know for certain that Wells and his cohorts have truly succeeded in turning what could have been a foolhardy endeavour in to one of late 2015's surprise great albums.