Guitarist Dave Stryker and large-ensemble arranger Brent Wallarab, fellow members of Indiana University’s jazz faculty and kindred movie buffs, get dramatic and cinematic on this 11-song program of music from some of their favorite films, and perhaps yours as well. The highly listenable tracks on Stryker With Strings Goes To The Movies consist of lush, panoramic orchestrations awash in melody and rife with thematic jazz improvisations — a nostalgic submersion into a captivating world of widescreen wonder. Stryker, the perpetually touring guitarist whose prodigious output of small-group jazz and organ-combo albums and headlining gigs dates back decades, and Wallarab, longtime co-leader of the repertoire-diving Buselli-Wallarab Jazz Orchestra, previously teamed up in 2023 to work on music for a public TV broadcast celebrating the centennial of Indiana jazz legend Wes Montgomery. They take their collaboration to new depths and heights on Stryker With Strings Goes To The Movies, which also serves as a followup to the guitarist’s previous release with rhythm section and strings, 2022’s As We Are. The orchestra here is 30-strong, with strings, brass and a New York-style rhythm section of pianist Xavier Davis, bassist Jeremy Allen and drummer McClenty Hunter, complemented by a marquis’ worth of jazz soloists in saxophonist Greg Ward, violinist Sara Caswell, trumpeter Mark Buselli and trombonist Jim Pugh. Highlights include Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” (from the 1989 teen romance Say Anything), a bossa-grooving “You Only Live Twice” (John Barry’s theme for the 1967 James Bond film), a noir-ish “Taxi Driver” (composed by Bernard Herrmann for Martin Scorsese’s famous 1976 film), a funky-burning romp through Isaac Hayes’ “Theme From Shaft” (from Gordon Parks’ 1971 blaxploitation film), a hard-swinging “Flirtbird” (one of Duke Ellington’s themes written for Otto Preminger’s 1959 courtroom drama Anatomy of a Murder), a balladic “Dreamsville” (written by Henry Mancini for Blake Edwards’ Peter Gunn movie and TV show) and a gorgeous quartet version of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Edelweiss” (from 1965’s The Sound of Music), taken as a jazz waltz sans strings and brass. For a complete track listing and other essential information about Stryker With Strings Goes To The Movies, be sure to check out the album’s 16-page booklet with detailed, insightful notes by David Brent Johnson of WFIU Public Radio in Bloomington, Indiana. And, to experience Stryker in a live small-group context, go see his Jan. 24–26 shows at New York’s Birdland with organist Jared Gold, tenor saxophonist Troy Roberts and drummer Hunter (Rob Dixon joins the fold on tenor sax Sunday night only).

There’s a seeming paradox at work on Give Way, the joint debut recording by trumpeter Emily Mikesell and saxophonist Kate Campbell Strauss. The project ostensibly centers on the intimacy of the duo’s friendship and collaboration; yet intimacy is not what we hear, with each player overdubbing themselves into a dense ensemble of horns. Nor is there much spontaneity in these through-composed pieces. The writing was apparently done rather spontaneously, with some improvisation at some point as well, but by the time we receive these six short but multi-layered tracks they’ve been pretty well worked over.

Ignore all that. What Give Way lacks in intimacy and spontaneity it makes up in gorgeousness, pure and simple. Who cares about the mechanics behind the cascading “WWYD” or the lightly contrapuntal “Give Way” when one can simply absorb the exquisite sounds for their own sake? If the intricate, interlocked voicings that vivify “Recipes” weren’t banged out at the spur of the moment, are they less enchanting?

The two players do account for and respond to each other as the pieces progress. Mikesell’s longing, gauzy trumpet melody on the opening “Cloud Castles” is balanced by Campbell Strauss’ call-and-response with herself later in the piece, each musician providing obbligato punctuation for the other. “Quiet Evenings” — which for all its softness nods to the brass-band heritage of the duo’s New Orleans base — is also a product of close listening; trumpet is the lead voice, but it also allows space for the layered saxes to properly undergird it (and indeed provides some support of its own to the reeds).

To be clear, Give Way does create a hunger to hear what these two smart, creative musicians could do in a looser, more extemporaneous setting. That shouldn’t detract from what they accomplish in this one. —Michael J. West

Shabaka (a.k.a. Shabaka Hutchings) continues his exploration of flutes and his atmospheric soul music with the release of Possession. The EP serves as an extension of his February 2024 release Perceive The Beauty, Acknowledge Its Grace, which gave Shabaka the grace to step away from the saxophone and delve into the flute, driving his music into a very new, very soulful direction. “Timepieces,” the opening track, offers a beautifully lush bed of flute and rhythm instruments for rapper billy woods to flow over. It’s an incredibly satisfying confessional built by sampling Shabaka’s tune “End Of Innocence” from Perceive The Beauty. That flow continues with the work of rapper E L U C I D on “I’ve Been Listening,” offering a thoughtful, unrushed sermon accompanied by some lovely harp work (Brandee Younger and Charles Overton both participate in this project). The guests keep coming with the third tune, featuring another artist who’s recently begun to focus on the flute. Shabaka and André 3000 swirl in and through each other on “To The Moon,” a great tune to wake up to each morning if you need that celestial vibe to get your day rolling. Esperanza Spalding joins in on “Cycles Of Growth,” with some earthy vocals and a melody that harkens back to Mother Africa. Continuing that theme, Shabaka invites South African pianist Nduduzo Makhathini to join in for the program’s final tune, “Reaching Back Towards Eternity,” a simple, lush lullaby for a broken world. What’s most lovely about this entire work is the idea that the music, even with guests, is not gimmicky. It feels like community. It’s not driven by trading fours, changing time signatures or blowing each other away. You can feel these artists listening to each other and responding in kind. When the pieces end, you want more. Shabaka’s voice is different on the flute. It’s important. And it’s needed right now.

There’s a smile to the music Sullivan Fortner makes. It can be über serious, but inside, it smiles because that’s Sullivan Fortner — a pianist of unabashed charm and incredible technique all wrapped up in a bit of New Orleans showmanship. New Orleans. That’s where Fortner comes from even though he now lives in New York City. And New Orleans remains the center of his musical heart. As a result, it’s not surprising that his latest recording, Southern Nights, brims with the spirit conjured by that title. Written by Allen Toussaint, truly a patron saint of New Orleans musical history, the title track became a hit for pop legend Glen Campbell back in the 1970s, but leading off this album, Fortner’s version is a breezy, lovely lope that conjures the best of that southern city on a spring morning. But don’t let that fool you. What he’s doing with his left and right hands is crazy complex yet incredibly catchy. “Southern Nights” is the opening tune on this terrific nine-song set, which includes tunes from other great composers as well. Cole Porter’s “I Love You” kicks off with an avant garde-ish intro before taking off on a quick-paced thrill ride with Fortner backed beautifully by bassist Peter Washington and drummer Marcus Gilmore. From there, Fortner makes even more interesting song choices. Osvaldo Farres’ “Tres Palabras” sends shivers with an awesome solo by Washington; Donald Brown’s “Waltz For Monk” is quirky cool; Bill Lee’s “Never Again” shows Fortner’s love for getting inside a ballad; Consuela Lee’s “Discovery” packs in the drama and pianistic glitter; Clifford Brown’s “Daahoud” has Gilmore setting the tone with a tasteful, tight drum solo to kick off the piece; and Woody Shaw’s “The Organ Grinder” swings just right. There’s one Fortner original on the set, “9 Bar Tune,” a Monkish tip of the cap that suits the program perfectly. Throughout, it’s amazing to listen to what this trio accomplishes: complex rhythms and chord changes, beautiful melodies and quirky “out” passages, all presented as if gliding on air. The album was recorded right after Fortner, Washington and Gilmore finished a week at the Village Vanguard in New York. So, the music was selected, rehearsed, minted and audience-approved before taking it into the studio. We’re lucky they did. It’s is a wonderful document of one of our true rising stars on the piano and a trio that refines its presentation with each live performance. Hopefully, they’ll tour.

It’s not “katabasis” (the Greek term for passage to the underworld) but “myth” that’s the title’s keyword. On one level, we’re exploring story traditions about an afterlife; on another, we’re meditating on their untruth. Pianist Hayoung Lyou’s trio is playing grim stuff here, and they approach it with grimness, too. Yet there’s also a current of ironic humor woven in. Like a Jean-Luc Godard film, The Myth Of Katabasis is constantly reminding you that the realm it’s evoking is a false one.

That current is not terribly suble. “Windup,” which examines the finality of death, is the album’s most playful tune, packed with gregarious Thelonious Monk-like rhythms and Andrew Hill-ian dissonances. But the intermittent, three-part “Descent” suite (which runs backwards, from parts III to I) isn’t far behind. Its dark solo piano improvisations break suddenly into lighthearted ballet rhythms, positioned somewhere between grace and delirium. On the other hand, “Ascension,” the idea of return from the land of the dead, might be the least fun, with rhythms and harmonic flourishes that elsewhere seemed fanciful now suggesting resignation, even psychic scarring. The jumpy, dissonant clusters in Lyou’s improv line become barbs.

Other instances, though, are, if not subtle, then at least ambiguous. “Negotiation” begins with a feeling of folly in bassist Thomas Morgan’s pizzicato doubling of Lyou on the melody’s triplet rhythms; it gains gravitas when drummer Steven Crammer joins in and Morgan switches to bow, despite the written part itself not changing at all. It’s when they fall away and Lyou goes into a refined, classically informed solo that these streams cross: What, the pianist wonders aloud, does it all mean? Anything at all? Both fatalistic and nihilistic, The Myth Of Katabasis doesn’t use its gallows humor to mock the idea of a broader, extra-mortal existence — just to interrogate it.