If the Melancholia of the title doesn’t tell you this is an exquisitely expressive album, the presence of trumpeter Ingrid Jensen as a featured guest should do the trick. Turkish-American pianist Mehmet Ali Sanlıkol groups Jensen with a Bostonian cohort on music both subtle and stunning — and, yes, melancholic.

Yet these seven tracks never become monotonous in their moodiness; if the music itself is subtle, the gradations between these “shades” are not. “One Melancholic Montuno,” for example, is in the same key as “My Blues”; there the resemblance ends. The former is a stirring-but-stately duo for piano and trumpet, with the Afro-Caribbean flair that its name suggests; the latter is not a blues, but a sad melody (played by Jensen and soprano saxophonist Lihi Haruvi-Means) that unfurls with such aching that its slow tempo does nothing to dampen its catharsis. Even the two tunes that share traditional Turkish modes, Sanlıkol’s self-invented Renaissance 17 microtonal keyboard (which sounds like a Wurlitzer electric piano) and his vocals are different: “Şeddi Araban Şarkı,” a downcast ballad, finds him wailing in a Bryan Ferry-like croon, while “Hüseyni Jam” is a medium-up swinger with bassist James Heazlewood-Dale and drummer George Lernis at a trot and Sanlıkol adopting a falsetto à la Milton Nascimento. That it manages to evoke melancholy at all is a minor miracle.

“My Blues” — which does adopt a bluesy feel in its middle section, pushed along with powerful solos by Sanlıkol, Haruvi-Means and Jensen — is well positioned as the closer, since it’s the album’s crowning moment. Yet the penultimate “Buselik” isn’t far behind. It’s a haunting tone poem, begun with wordless falsetto vocals and piano from Sanlıkol; Jensen and Haruvi-Means soon join with empathetic obbligati, then Heazlewood-Dale and Lernis come in just before the halfway point to ratchet up the tension with a double-time rhythm. Jensen’s note-bending cries brought a tear to this writer’s eye.

George Colligan is masterful at his craft, world-class as a pianist, keyboardist, composer, bandleader and musical storyteller. But we don’t get to see him enough because he’s also world-class as a jazz educator, serving as a full professor at Portland State University in Oregon. So, when he does come to town — be it with his own groups or working as a sideman, especially shining as a long-time member of groups led by drummer Jack DeJohnette — you’ve gotta catch him. Just to whet your interest, his latest recording, Live At The Jazz Standard, is a perfect introduction to (or reacquaintance with) Colligan’s work. It’s a beautiful display of all of his artistic skill and panache in a trio setting where he turns the tables and has DeJohnette join him, along with the always-interesting Linda May Han Oh on bass. What we have here is a fantastic five-tune set where the songs are terrific, the musicianship special and the chance to stretch out and solo is over-the-top amazing. The set begins with “Waiting For Solitude.” This is where Colligan’s musical storytelling shines. The percussive attack and interaction between the three builds an angsty tension, but Colligan knows just where to release and slide into some beautiful lines. Oh delivers a terrific bass solo, and you can almost feel the three musicians listen and respond to each other throughout. In introducing “Song For The Tarahumera,” Colligan asks the audience if they knew the book Born To Run by Christopher McDougall, about an indigenous people in Mexico with extraordinary ability as endurance runners. When no one answers, he says, “Really? No exercise enthusiasts in the house?” All this and funny, too. Clocking in at over 14 minutes, the tune is a bit of an endurance test, even giving the sense of a running pace with DeJohnette kicking off the tune with a long, killer drum solo. A family man, Colligan delivers the lovely “Her Majesty” in honor of his wife, the talented pianist Kelly Politzer. He offers “Liam’s Lament” as an homage to his son when he was 2 years old. “I know lament sounds heavy for a 2-year-old,” he quipped. “You haven’t met my son. He’s heavy, he’s a heavy dude.” The tune starts out with Colligan playing accordion, reminding us of the beauty of that instrument. But, true to the song’s title, it builds to a bit of a musical tantrum (sorry, Liam) before resolving. The set concludes with “If A Mountain Was Smooth, You Couldn’t Climb It.” It’s a special closing number: uplifting, majestic and an opportunity for all three musicians to really shine. Live At The Jazz Standard offers a wonderful glimpse into the musical world of George Colligan. It’s a world full of great songs performed by incredible musicians, a world that puts a smile on your face.

This is the first Editor’s Unpick that we’ve ever run online. There was a lotta talk when André 3000 put out New Blue Sun, his instrumental flute recording a couple of years ago. It was OK, meh, and many of us in the jazz world applauded the attempt. (Many also flat-out panned it.) With 7 piano sketches, André offers an EP of seven solo piano renderings lasting from under a minute to three-and-a-half minutes, improvisations he said were recorded a decade ago and never intended to be put out. So why do it now? This is not a professional record. He is not a good piano player. This is noodling at home, just one step up from Lou Reed’s 1975 release Metal Machine Music (go find it and blame me later for wasting your time). So, again, why do it? Does he owe the record company an album and wants to get out of the contract? Or was it all just to make his piano-themed costume for this year’s Met Gala make sense? Whatever the case, it’s the worst solo piano recording on a major label that this reviewer has ever heard. So, why one star, not zero? It’s 2025, and everybody gets a participation trophy these days. Now that I’ve joined the scads writers who have written about this EP, some loving it (insert rolling-eye emoji here), you’ll go out, listen to this and blame me for, again, wasting your time. Sorry, André — I love ya, but no. (If you do listen, I’d love to hear your feedback. Email me at editor@downbeat.com.)

On Metropolarity, tenor saxophonist Jasper Blom, a pivotal force on the vibrant Dutch jazz scene, is joined by his quartet colleagues of 20 years to perform new versions of his original compositions in collaboration with the 50-strong Metropole Orkest, the Netherlands-based non-classical orchestra celebrated for its forward-facing creative vision and long history of collaboration with progressive-minded popular artists from Ella Fitzgerald, Dizzy Gillespie and Herbie Hancock to Jacob Collier, Snarky Puppy and DOMi & JD BECK. Metropole’s signature blend of daring orchestration and melodic accessibility makes it an especially appropriate fit for Blom’s advanced yet engaging writing style. The symbiotic virtuosity of Blom and his heavyweight quartet mates — guitarist Jesse Van Ruller, bassist Frans Van Der Hoeven and drummer Martijn Vink — blooms brilliantly in the orchestra’s verdant garden bed, which serves to extend the core combo in both supporting and interactive roles. A striking blend of the leader’s innovative compositions, the quartet’s tight, intuitive improvisations and the majestic sweep of the Metropole Orkest (conducted here by the formidable Christian Elsässer interpreting exquisitely crafted charts by esteemed large-ensemble arrangers Jochen Neuffer, Damiano Pascarelli, Calle Rasmussen, Callum Au, Rob Horsting and Elsässer himself), Metropolarity is a fitting and monumental tribute to Blom’s distinguished career at the front ranks of European jazz performers, composers, collaborators and bandleaders.

If the words “silt” or “remembrance” ring a bell in a jazz context, you might have already figured out that Silt Remembrance Ensemble is the latest project of bassist, poet and conceptualist Luke Stewart. It brings together his Silt Trio (with tenor saxophonist Brian Settles, drummer Chad Taylor) and members of his Remembrance Quintet (saxophonists Daniel Carter, who also plays trumpet, and Jamal Moore, who also plays percussion). The result, The Order, doesn’t sound quite like either group — although it does sound indefatigably like Stewart.

In fact, it might be said to encapsulate everything Stewart does best. The tunes tend toward the kind of infectious, organic grooves that shape the Silt Trio’s two albums, as on the bass-driven “River Road” and “Commandments” or the drum-circle-with-saxes “Lion’s Den.” Yet it has the wider textural palette, busier interaction and poetic augmentations of the Remembrance Quintet; the evocative literary and spoken voices of No Land (“Memory”) and Janice Lowe (“The Order”) distinguish themselves, as does Stewart’s on “Repeat.”

Even mash-up ensembles like this one are more than the sum of their parts, though. Silt Remembrance’s own identity presents itself most robustly on the eponymous “Silt Remembrance.” Beginning with Carter’s bleating alto dancing over an African-inspired rhythm, it soon features all three saxophonists furiously engaging with each other, with counterpoint giving way to cooperative development and back again. As they gradually cohere, bass and drums increasingly diverge, creating a looser framework that never quite gets all the way to free before reuniting in another determined groove.

Much is happening here, all of it captivating. DB

DownBeat published its first full-length feature on composer/alto saxophonist Steve Lehman in the May issue with good reason. His music (and career) continue to grow with each and every album he puts out and every live show he puts on. In the case of his most recent album, The Music Of Anthony Braxton on Pi, listeners get a good dose of both. Here we have Lehman with his working trio of Matt Brewer on bass and Damion Reid on drums, plus tenor saxophonist Mark Turner, performing the music of one of Lehman’s greatest mentors. They dig into Braxton’s catalog with drive, ambition and fury, delivering the master’s music with grit, groove and just the right amount of outside-the-lines spice. Braxton’s music has always been absolutely heady, taking a different path from the rest of the crowd, and that’s what makes it so special. This trio +1 fans that flame, but also gives the music a deeply soulful spin. For example, they take on “34a” at a slightly slower tempo, but still at breakneck speed. That gives Brewer’s bass and Reid’s drums the opportunity to seriously lock in as Lehman and Turner blaze over the rhythm. From the outset, it’s important to note how well this music was recorded. Every nuance is captured, from the rattle of the E string on Brewer’s bass to the slap of a saxophone key. All four members of the ensemble shine throughout. Brewer’s bass solo on “40b” is divine. Lehman and Turner thrill on unison lines on “23b + 23G,” then sprint off on their own killer solos. With both Lehman and Turner on the fast-growing L.A. jazz scene now, it’s exciting to hear them together, both creatively gifted improvisers. They absolutely feed off of each other throughout the set. And Reid brings an easy, fiery grace to the drum kit, fueling changes in tempo and color on “23e + 40a” and “23c.” In addition to the five Braxton tunes in this set, it also includes two Lehman originals: “L.A. Genes” and “Unbroken and Unspoken,” both terrific additions to his body of work. They close with Thelonious Monk’s “Trinkle, Tinkle,” in a performance Lehman included to demonstrate the connection between its melodic line to Braxton’s “23b.” Steve Lehman is a thinking man’s musician who also knows how to burn.

Veteran drummer Phil Haynes, a prolific composer and improviser who’s been featured on nearly 90 releases from myriad American and European labels (including his own Corner Store Jazz imprint), pairs up with two of his longtime collaborators — electric guitarist Steve Salerno and upright bassist Drew Gress — on the visceral new recording Return To Electric. The album not only reconnects Haynes with old friends from his two decades spent living and working in New York, but it also fulfills a long-held dream of making a fusion album — one that ultimately serves as a vehicle for nostalgic yet progressive time-travel back to the genre’s early experimental days, awash in the edgy, iconic sounds of the electric guitar that captivated and inspired him as a youth coming of age in Oregon. The trio takes on fusion classics by Wayne Shorter (“Paraphernalia”), Chick Corea (“Crystal Silence”), John McLaughlin (“Spectrum” and “Lotus On Irish Springs”) and George Russell (“Living Time”), alongside repurposed Haynes originals and a trio of short improvised solo “Cadenzas” by each member of the band. Passages of free-improv play abound on Return To Electric, whose 13 modest-length tracks seldom stick to any one groove or stay on any particular tack for very long. Unrestrained by strict song forms, the music shifts with an organic feel, touching on everything from ethereal atmospherics and hard-hitting rip-and-crunch to old-school funk grooves, easygoing swing diversions and a sparse, exploratory “sandbox” approach to group improvisation. Another, simultaneous new release, Transition(s), marks the debut of Haynes in a duo configuration co-led with guitarist Ben Monder, a fellow seeker on the New York downtown scene a quarter-century ago who semi-regularly teamed up with the drummer for informal improv sessions that almost always culminated in a meditation on “Transition,” the title track from John Coltrane’s posthumously released 1970 album. Here, the tune serves as the guiding star for a set of airy, spacious art pieces — at times amorphous and atmospheric, at others tense and urgent or lyrical and weightless, all of it built upon a still-vital, telepathy-like stream of communication that was, in retrospect, long overdue for a reawakening.