Oh, dear reader: we've arrived at the ultimate entry in our jazzventure—and posted several weeks late, no less. You must think me the sentimental type; too attached to our journey to bear saying goodbye. Fortunately I suffer no such affliction—painters love to paint, writers love having written—rather, this week's album provoked such a fierce outburst of apathy from me that I required some extra time to push through. (That apathy never boiled over into antipathy, mind you; there is fine music on offer here!)

Let's begin with the facts: we've heard from Wynton Marsalis once before, and much like Volume 1, this album features Marsalis' take on a number of tried-and-true jazz standards, with a few originals sprinkled in as well—however, this instalment is distinguished by the appearance of Marsalis' father, Ellis, on piano throughout. (A performance which sadly left little impression on me.) After a year of listening I was hoping to have decent coverage of those standards, but alas, I only recognized a couple.¹ Among the covers, I particularly liked "How Are Things in Glocca Morra?"—a simple, touching pop tune that gives Marsalis ample space to show off his beautiful tone. But interestingly, it was Marsalis' originals that outperformed for me; there are only three on the album, but two of them ended up being among my favourite tracks. "In the Court of King Oliver" successfully harks back to some of the earliest days of jazz with its steady, foot-tapping two-beat rhythmic pulse, whereas "The Seductress" shows that in Marsalis' mind, there must be no sound more arousing than a trembling wah-wah, because it arrives clad in nothing but and shakes them in your face the full three minutes. (That's a show I can appreciate, but it left my wife turned off.)

So what exactly is my gripe? Well, for all Marsalis' technical abilities (which are considerable), to me this album still lacks a certain joie de vivre. I can't help but contrast it with "Better Git It In Your Soul," which encapsulates everything I want out of jazz: it's swinging, it's ebullient, it's alive and suffused with something undeniably life-affirming. I'm sure Marsalis Jr. and Sr. can play with the best of them, but on this album it feels like they forgot to have fun—something I find astonishing in a genre as dynamic and playful as jazz.

Intentional or not, it feels provocative to end this box set on a Marsalis album. As one of jazz's preeminent statesmen, and artistic director of Jazz at Lincoln Center, Marsalis has considerable influence in shaping the future of jazz. But rather than dare to ask what jazz might be, Marsalis seems content to cherish and preserve what it has been. I'll readily concede that Marsalis' familiarity with jazz is far beyond what mine ever shall be, but I can't help but notice that's not the strategy espoused by any of Marsalis' idols (Armstrong, Ellington, Parker, Monk, Mingus, Davis…). I'm very glad to have Marsalis' conservative voice among the modern jazz chorus, but I don't want him writing the songbook by himself. At nearly 65 years old, this Young Lion's mane is showing streaks of grey—I suppose only time will tell whether his pride triumphs.

Favourite track: In the Court of King Oliver