In which the imperial (not imperious) king of B3 soul and funk climbs out of his own hole to make friends with Neil Young and the Drive-By Truckers. One unlikely three-way, you’d say, and I’d agree. But given Booker’s landing at Anti-, he had to shake hands with the de facto Anti- house band, and he and Neil have history.

With Mr. Young chiming in to an ensemble already three guitar players strong, someone could easily end up elbowed out the window. But everyone understands space, silence, the weight of notes unplayed. No singing on this record, so no people populating its sonicscapes, but plenty of tours through majestic elevations, depressions, highways, byways, two-lane blacktops, country roads with the groove cut through the ruts. That “hole” on the cover leads into revelatory visions, and somebody (Neil, Patterson Hood or Mike Cooley) confirms it 40 seconds into the opener, “Pound it Out” when cosmic flakes of distortion cascade from the amp.

No feel escapes this team’s reach. Booker steers OutKast’s “Hey Ya” through either end of his Hammond, cowbell joins in and we’re good to go for a 20-cheerleader formation at the next pep rally. “She Breaks” gives the guitars holes to punch through and around declarative organ stabs. On the unlikely cover of Tom Waits’ “Get Behind the Mule,” wobbly gospel keys/guitar call-and-response trudge through a desert (our ode to joy ride must have run out of gas), oasis hallucinations rising through heat shimmers. Want an organ that sounds like a harp? The man opens “Reunion Time” like he’s never played any other way.

Neil has to go back to being Neil. The Truckers have to go back to being all things to everyone. For now, marvel at this meeting of minds; just don’t hold your breath for the next one.