Lee Konitz is an American jazz composer and alto saxophonist born in Chicago. He is notably one of the few alto saxophonists of his era to remain uninfluenced by Charlie Parker.

Fronted by Reggie Watts, whose expressive baritone has been a pillar of the Seattle music scene since the early '90s, the talented quintet Maktub (say it, "mocktube") blaze a righteous road of psychedelic soul-pop on Khronos, the follow-up to their 1999 debut Subtle Ways. Equally rooted in '70s soul and West Coast hipster rock, Maktub's skillful layers of groovy keyboards, drums, bass, and guitars result in tasty concoctions that are at once wholly original and appealingly familiar. Imaginative embellishments from a modified 1950s telephone mic (a.k.a. the "Regg-a-phone"), a guitar talkbox, synthesizers, and samples give the multifarious 11-song playlist novelty, although you'll hear everyone from Al Green and Robert Plant to Jamiroquai and Chris Cornell throughout. The uplifting opener, "You Can't Hide," is a superfly morsel of funk that's likely to be one of the album's biggest hits; the third track, "Give Me Some Time," is a very cool rocker evocative of what might occur were Steely Dan and Faith No More to meet in the studio; and "Just Like Murder" is a gorgeously dark medley of Hammond organ and guitars that escalate and recede as Watts reflects on heartbreak. Their inspired cover (perhaps explaining the slightly off lyrics) of Led Zeppelin's "No Quarter" is followed by the album's most leaden entry, "Motherf**ker," but the chilled-out "Then We'll Know" is a gentle wind down. In all, the excellent Khronos ensures that if you don't yet know and love Maktub, you should and will. —Rebecca Robinson

"Say What You Mean" compresses the diversity of Maktub's first two releases, "Subtle Ways" and "Khronos", into an exhilarating, high-impact style. Locked into a taut groove behind singer Reggie Watts, known throughout the Northwest for his passionate vocals, riveting presence, live onstage sampling, and spectacular afro, the band digs down to its essence and comes up with a sound that's original yet accessible to the widest range of listeners.

Seattle's Maktub (Arabic for "it is written") craft engaging lover's funk kissed with subtly placed contemporary updates. The muscle of this band, however, is not the gee-whiz gloss of technology, but the gritty sweat-soaking of that thing for which there is no replacement—soul. Led by the sturdy yet versatile baritone of vocalist Reggie Watts and driven by a band that seems capable of moving mountains yet always keeps coolly restrained, Maktub are refreshingly stripped down without feeling bare. More than anything, that's the mark of great musicians working through tunes that are both well conceived and forcefully executed. —S. Duda

If you have any pop, soul, or jazz CDs, the ubiquitous bassist and multi-instrumentalist Marcus Miller is probably on some of them. From Luther Vandross and David Sanborn to Miles Davis, Miller has been making cutting-edge music with the greatest stars of the past three decades. On M2, which includes a stellar array of musicians from Wayne Shorter to Maceo Parker, Miller unveils the full range of his eclectic musicality. On the funky, uptempo "Power," the Talking Heads's "Burning Down the House" (featuring alto saxophonist Kenny Garrett), and "Nikki's Groove," Miller displays his powerful thumb-plucking Larry Graham-derived licks. On Charles Mingus's moody tribute to Lester Young, "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat," Herbie Hancock tickles the ivories in his trademarked impressionistic style, which complements Miller's Jaco Pastorius-like bass lines. Miller's arranging genius transforms John Coltrane's ballad "Lonnie's Lament" into a head-bopping hip-hop groove Dr. Dre would like, thanks to his soul-searing bass clarinet, and Branford Marsalis's and Hubert Laws's soprano sax and flute lines. Raphael Saadiq, the Brazilian superstar Djavan, and the legendary Chaka Khan lend their distinct vocals to the quiet-storm vehicles "Boomerang," "It's Me Again," and the spiritual "Your Amazing Grace." With a firm grasp of the jazz tradition and a broad knowledge of popular musical idioms, Marcus Miller is in the center of everything, laying down the groove. —Eugene Holley Jr.

It's possible to admire Medeski Martin and Wood's craft and guile in pushing against stylistic restraints while recognizing that their music isn't quite as much fun as it once was—or that this hugely popular trio may think it is. Full of shaggy cross-textures, plummy grooves, and spooky electronic underpinnings, Uninvisible is a lively sonic stew. Once a universe unto themselves, keyboardist John Medeski, drummer Billy Martin, and bassist Chris Wood continue to smartly expand their jam-band base, here featuring a brash five-piece horn section from the Brooklyn-based Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra, turntablists DJ Olive and DJ P Love, and, for a spoken-word number, craggy-voiced Southern rock eccentric Col. Bruce Hampton. When Medeski is riding that Hammond organ and the group is taking its patented soulful detours, as on "Pappy Check" and the Booker T-ish "Smoke," all is right with the world. But even with Medeski dabbling on a roomful of other instruments, including the Mellotron, mini-Moog, and Arp, the songs don't have a lot of variety. And crowded with effects, the music can bog down in its own abstract logic—though there's no resisting the ping-pong game being played on "Off the Table." The chief rewards of Uninvisible are in the details. Until further notice, a headphone advisory is in effect. —Lloyd Sachs