Back again to solidify his legacy in jazz history is Wynton Marsalis, bandleader, trumpeter, and poet.

            The most interesting concept on his latest album, He and She, is the fact that seven songs come equipped with their own prologue—a poem.  These poems refer to the title of the following song, and they forecast the theme the tune carries.  For example, the first track reads into the tune “School Boy,” which has a circus-like theme to illustrate the taming of the child.

            The next tune, “The Sun and the Moon,” plays off a theme of maturation, when the boy grows more aware of girls and their presence.  His rhythm section and solos clash awkwardly at times, similarly to failed pick-up lines and the like.

            The next tune shifts the point of view to the girl, whom the band illustrates as an edgy and “Sassy” (that’s the title!) babe.  Sophisticated and worthy.  She puts up a front indicating the increased effort and attention she’ll require.

            “Fears” underscores the inherent anxiety the boy undergoes through the question of asking the girl out on a date.  A nauseating rhythm section and a handful of slow solos help paint the scene.

            “Razor Rim” characterizes Marsalis’s narrator in a newly resolute skin, ready to make his move on the girl.  They get down to business, and the main character works so hard to please his girl, but evidently he comes up short.

            For in “Zero,” Marsalis’s poem laments over the fact that “1+0=1,” when in his case, “1+0=0.”  This understanding puts Marsalis in a sour and bitter mood.

            “First Crush” shows a change in fortune for the narrator, as we can feel the alto saxophone open with a solo that feels like the butterflies in our stomachs on our first date with a girl we actually love.  The tune moves into a more mellowed scene and, before we know it, “First Slow Dance” is playing.  Hand-holding, foot-stomping, and all that mess leads to “First Kiss.” 

            Which leads to “First Time,” a sensual tune with an agile alto saxophone and trumpet duet, reminiscent of a racing heartbeat in the middle of sex.

            From then on, the tunes portray a man’s journey to understand the nuances of womankind.  From accepting her faults to embracing his own, sticking it out and running away, and understanding that love is not a concrete entity, Marsalis demonstrates his unique love for his woman and for his trade.

            Marsalis and his band continue to bring their music into a bit of a classicalist light, almost to the detriment of the genre.  The only critique of this album is the apparent over-arrangement of the composition, leaving a feeling of true improvisation to be desired.

Woovies: 4.75/5—definitely the best album I’ve heard in a while.  Check out track 18, “Poem 7”.