By the time I got to track 3 of the latest outing from Ali Ryerson, I was hooked on her album concept and enthralled with her longstanding quartet’s musical chemistry. The group’s cover version of the Thad Jones classic “Three And One” — with flutist Ryerson, pianist Larry Ham and bassist Lou Pappas digging deep into the tune’s three-part harmonized line supported by drummer Tom Melito’s swinging bebop groove — struck me as a brilliant take on the intricate composition that was immortalized on the 1966 big band recording Presenting Thad Jones/Mel Lewis & The Jazz Orchestra. Intrigued and quite pleased by the uplifting vibe of the group’s interpretation, I immediately wanted more, and, boy, did this recording deliver. Ryerson, who has long excelled on C flute and alto flute in both jazz and classical settings, also treats curious listeners to six contrafact originals (“Chuck’s Tune/Solar,” “Flying In Space/Falling Grace,” “Before Today/Yesterdays,” “Let’s Call It Love/What Is Thing Thing Called Love,” “AliCat Blues,” “Boppin’ Low”), a groove-inspired original of her own (“Cold Snap”) and three beautiful Brazilian tunes (“Começar de Novo,” “Nada Como Ter Amor,” “Fé”) on this 11-track collection, the second release on her ACR Music label. The genesis of The Ali Ryerson Quartet dates back to the pandemic lull of 2020, when Ryerson began to take on writing projects — one of which was composing jazz solos based on the changes of popular standards to teach essentials of jazz style to her students in lessons conducted via Zoom. When touring started up again in 2021, she took those solos a step further by weaving them into her arrangements for the group’s live shows, sometimes pairing them with the original standards, and sometimes not. Ryerson’s rhythm section soon began to develop entire soli sections with her, and it became a whole “thing” worthy of further ambition, serious documentation and, ultimately, celebration. The topper to all this is the veteran flutist’s mature and complex yet irresistibly pleasing instrumental tone, a highly personal sound that meshes perfectly with her effortless mastery of the bebop language and a natural inclination to make everything swing.

That the musicians on this new recording from Joe Lovano can maintain such exquisite sensitivity in their interactions, even while all four of them are practically bursting with creative energy, tells what kind of mastery we’re dealing with here. But don’t confuse sensitivity with softness. Paramount Quartet comprises tenor/soprano saxophonist Lovano, guitarist Julian Lage, bassist Asante Santi Debriano and drummer Will Calhoun, none of whom are whisperers. Most of the album finds them driving, asserting, grooving, even — as on “Amsterdam” and “The Great Outdoors” — pushing into free territory.

On the set’s three ballads, where the players do don kid gloves, we can still hear the ideas coming fast and furious. If the texture of the accurately titled opening “First Song” is finery, Lovano’s silken tenor over Lage and Debriano’s lace and Calhoun’s brushed gold leaf, the saxophonist still manages to percolate, having so much to say that he has to double-time it (though with such acuity that one barely notices). Similarly, on “Lady Day,” Lage lays down with microscopic precision lines that gradually develop into stinging, but fragile and melodic, barbs.

The sensitivity at issue, however, is in their abilities to detect, examine and respond to each other’s finenesses. “Fanfare For Unity” features short bursts of collective, polyrhythmic improv in between leitmotifs; that’s all it needs. So attuned are these musicians that Calhoun can sketch out a quick rhythmic phrase; Lage and Debriano can grab and melodize it in unison and without hesitation; and Lovano can invert and extend it before they’ve even finished it. On the soul groover “Congregation,” Calhoun seems to anticipate Lovano’s every solo shape; when Lage’s solo follows the saxophonist, Debriano shares a similar telepathy with him. It’s listening that thus becomes the paramount part of Paramount Quartet.

Pianist Emmet Cohen has always been the quintessential old soul, dipping back into the history of classic jazz tunes, heaping hero worship on the generations of artists who came before him and cheerleading for the generation coming up behind him. On the hero-worship front, his Master Legacy Series of recordings has featured Jimmy Cobb, Benny Golson and Albert “Tootie” Heath, to name a few. And the guest list on his massively popular video-streaming show, Live From Emmet’s Place, includes Houston Person (who was also part of the Master Legacy Series), Ken Peplowski, Kurt Elling, Sheila Jordan, Anat Cohen, Dick Oatts and Terell Stafford, among others. The list is long and amazing. And what do they play? Standards, of course, in the most organic, original way possible, taking that music to a new generation in ways that reach around the globe. So, it’s no surprise that his latest recording is a celebration of the centennials of two of this music’s greatest artists — Miles and Coltrane — while also giving love to his favorite pianists. His trio with bassist Yasushi Nakamura and drummer Joe Farnsworth is joined by a host of terrific guests. Trumpeter Jeremy Pelt blows clear and clean on an uptempo take of Thelonious Monk’s “Well You Needn’t.” “My Funny Valentine” serves as a reunion for bassist Ron Carter and tenor saxophonist George Coleman, who played the song in Miles’ band some 60 years earlier. Coleman and rising tenor star Tivon Pennicott dig in with the trio on a sweet-grooving spin of Coltrane’s “Blue Trane.” In between, there are nods to Bud Powell with “Budo,” which appeared on The Birth Of The Cool; and Jimmy Heath, another artist celebrating a centennial this year, with “Gingerbread Boy.” But Cohen is also a fine composer who writes with a smile and a sigh. He’s deeply in the present with an affinity for the past. “Universal Truth,” his three-part suite, offers proof of that range, beginning with the bubbling group play of “Eternal Glimpse” into the noir balladry of “Compassion” and wowing with the power and soul of “Universal Truth.” This is a truly fine recording and the reason Mr. Cohen will be on the cover of the July issue of DownBeat. He’s also in the midst of a heavy touring schedule. Catch him live if you can!

Remy and Pascal Le Boeuf, twin brothers from Santa Cruz who have teamed up to release six albums that embrace their jazz upbringing and venture bravely into contemporary classical and indie-rock realms, are currently at the top of their game as composers, having recently won individual Grammy Awards for Best Instrumental Composition. The upcoming Le Boeuf Brothers album Off Center, a follow-up to their whisper-quiet 2023 recording HUSH, jacks up the excitement factor with a program of all-original material that goes even further in engaging the simpatico members of their quintet, which includes alto saxophonist Remy and pianist Pascal joined by longtime co-conspirators Dayna Stephens (tenor saxophone), Linda May Han Oh (bass) and Christian Euman (drums). It’s an all-acoustic affair that finds the group leaning into spontaneity and elasticity in search of the unconventional, stretching the compositions (six by Pascal, five by Remy) far beyond what’s written on the page in a delightful adventure of shared risk and mutual trust. The Le Boeufs — who became involved with high-profile West Coast educational jazz programs at a young age, attended Manhattan School of Music and went on to get advanced degrees — have carved out neat career paths of their own. They have each produced significant bodies of work, releasing their own recordings as bandleaders, attaining high-level job roles in prominent educational institutions, garnering awards galore and delivering masterful compositions in connection with commissions and grants. And let’s not forget their well-honed chops, in-the-moment instincts and their seemingly second-nature ability to navigate and manipulate chord changes while improvising — qualities that come to prominence in this quintet environment and set in motion the more exciting and engaging aspects of Off Center. Since even before the 2009 release of their debut recording, House Without A Door, Remy and Pascale Le Boeuf have constituted one of the most compelling creative partnerships in jazz and contemporary music. They have developed into essential contributors to the modern jazz canon, and are well worth checking out on record and in live performance. Upcoming tour dates for Le Boeuf Brothers include shows on June 5 at Sam First in Los Angeles, June 6 at Kuumbwa Jazz Center in Santa Cruz, California, and June 7 at the Palo Alto Art Center Auditorium in Palo Alto, California. To listen to the single “In Captivity” from Off Center, CLICK HERE.

Beto Paciello plays piano on The Stoic Suite; mysteriously, he’s all but uncredited for it anywhere on the album package. Perhaps the relatively unknown Brazilian wants to play up the caliber of his collaborators: John Patitucci, John Ellis, Rogerio and Anne Boccato and Eric Harland? Don’t you want to hear that already?

Or maybe Paciello’s more interested in presenting himself as a composer, which he is, on all seven of The Stoic Suite’s tracks. The compositions certainly merit the attention. If it’s Brazilian jazz per se, it’s not overtly so — more like straightahead post-bop with some Brazilian flair. “Sunset Skies” comes the closest to the hardcore stuff, with Harland and Rogerio combining into a driving samba (or at least samba-adjacent) groove, with Ellis’ soprano, Paciello’s piano and Anne Boccato’s wordless vocals expressing a Jobim-like melody. Meanwhile, true to its name, “Mediterranean Sea” evinces an Italian flavor with its waltz rhythm and bass clarinet lilt. “Tempus Fugit” (no relation to the Bud Powell classic) is an edgy foursquare tempered by a sweet but soaring melody for Ellis’ bass clarinet and flute and Boccato’s vocals. All are distinguished by the composer’s intoxicating melody and rich, gorgeous harmony. But there’s also stellar solo work: Ellis is particularly fine with his flute on “Tempus Fugit,” Patitucci magnificent on “Sunset Skies.”

All the same, Paciello also deserves more credit as a pianist than he gives himself. His harmonically adventurous, tango-flirting solo on the opening “Amor Fati” is one of the album’s highlights, and his intro (in partnership with an arco Patitucci) on “Memento Mori” is a sensitive passage that deftly sets up Boccato’s melody line. He takes a feature on the haunting closer “Nostalgia (For My Mother),” so he’s not completely without self-esteem; even so, The Stoic Suite deserves to be celebrated.

Wolfgang Muthspiel has been plying his creativity at the guitar for a dedicated, long time in nearly a dozen configurations as a leader — everything from solo works to big band extravaganzas to trio settings, especially trio settings. There’s his work with the MGT trio (with Slava Grigoryan and Ralph Towner), another with Larry Grenadier and Brian Blade, then the work he did with Brad Mehldau and Ambrose Akinmusire and the Autria String Trio (with Benjamin Schmid and Florian Eggner. All of them satisfying. But just as satisfying is the new Wolfgang Muthspiel Chamber Trio recording, Atlas. In describing the group on his website, Muthspiel says the goal of the group “is to create an interactive, polyphonic musical network that embraces the intimacy and transparency of chamber music formations without sacrificing rhythmic power or a sense of playful improvisation.” It’s fascinating what this combination of Muthspiel on guitars, Mario Rom on trumpet and Colin Vallon on piano can do. This isn’t what one might think of as a chamber group. They dispense with the pomp and politeness of classical music to focus on sound, improvisation and creativity. Take, for instance, the album’s fourth cut, “Lionel,” an obvious ode to Lionel Loueke, another trio collaborator (with Linda May Han Oh on the album Confluence.) The tune opens with Muthspiel rhythmically scraping the strings and using the guitar’s body as a percussion instrument to introduce a heartbeat before Rom and Vallon come in with the melody. There’s one foot in etude-land and another in modern jazz improvisation and just a touch of the flavor of mother Africa. Vocals, sweet and simple, come into the sound palette, and then at about the 6 minute mark the beauty is interrupted by a furious lash of electric guitar theatrics in a way that catches the listener off guard, but makes perfect sense. The playing on this album is beautiful. Muthspiel’s acoustic guitar work on songs like “Gaucho Shubert,” the opening track,” just glisten. With overdubs, pure flights of technical precision and in-the-moment soloing, there’s so much to like on this recording. And massive thanks to the team that recorded, mixed and mastered this work. The sound is as impeccable as the musicianship.