Music reviews. CD reviews. Critically hip!

Jazz, notwithstanding coffee table books and PBS specials, doesn't get much commercial respect these days. There are a lot of reasons for this. Popular music has been dumbed down to the extent that the familiar, the expected, the shortened attention spans are rewarded. The lesson that the notes which are not played are as important as the notes that are has been forgotten, if it was ever learned to begin with. It is still hard to understand, however, why this most basic, most original of the American music should receive such short shrift in the nation of its birth.

This question is always on my mind, to varying degrees, but it jumps immediately to the forefront when I listen to SOUL FOOD by Cyrus Chestnut. SOUL FOOD is the top CD on the Yellow Dog jazz charts, and deservedly so. There is no little irony in this; Chestnut's label, a stalwart in jazz and soul almost since its inception, is divesting itself of its jazz artists even as this is being written. Chestnut will land on all fours, irregardless. He has been around for awhile, moving expertly among genres from gospel to soundtracks to opera with Kathleen Battle, to work with his own trio. That curriculum vitae doesn't even include his stint with Wynton Marsalis, among others. And in jazz, perhaps more than any other genre, you're known by the company you keep; you don't just roll up and sit in with a Marsalis of any name. You've got to have it all together.

Chestnut's instrument of choice is the piano; he is not, however, a piano player; he is a musician, and a master at that. Listening to him move through the eleven tracks on SOUL FOOD with nary a misstep from either himself, his accompanists (Christian McBride on bass and Lewis Noah on drums) or his guests (Stefon Harris, vibes; Marcus Printup, trumpet; Wycliffe Gordon, trombone; Gary Bartz, alto sax; and James Carter, tenor sax) results in an embarrassment of aural riches.

Of the many pleasures that life affords, there are few as enjoyable as listening to a group of musicians whose affinity with each others' playing is matched only by their own individual abilities. SOUL FOOD provides that experience, and then some. Chestnut, a modest master of his instrument, does not engage in flashy, fiery pyrotechnics to get the listener's attention. One could instead compare his playing to a gentle but authoritative whisper that can be heard above the noise of a crowded room. The occupants of Chestnut's domicile on SOUL FOOD match his temperament perfectly. Any and all of them could lead their own aggregation; many of them have. Yet, they perform their supporting roles perfectly here, adding to the mix, rather than overwhelming it with their respective performances. This is evident from the opening title track, which swings authoritatively, but not aggressively, and sets the groove for what is to come. Chestnut's interplay under the horn solos, on this, and other tracks ("Brother Hawky Hawk," "Wellllll!", and "Goodnight") is always perfect; there's no duel going on here. When another player is soloing, Chestnut is there to provide an instrumental foundation as solid as bedrock. When Chestnut steps up front, however, time stops. Further, Chestnut is one of those few composers who can create a melody which is at once totally unique and instantly familiar. Yet, he can take a standard ("Sweet Low Sweet Chariot") and instantly make it his own. Given the man's devotion and humility he would probably regard that last statement as sacrilege. It may be, but it is no less true.

SOUL FOOD is the sound you get when master musicians are led by a master musician with the courage, confidence, and talent to give everyone room to do what they do best. If you've been wanting to jump into jazz but have been hesitant for want of a stepping off point SOUL FOOD would be the place to start. Very highly recommended.