He's got the Beat // Kurt Elling proves a freewheeling `Messenger'

An intriguing tension transports "The Messenger," the bold newalbum by young Chicago jazz singer Kurt Elling. More than anymainstream vocalist to come along in recent times, he thrives on freeexpression, building his hipster's persona upon four decidedlyunsquare cornerstones: bebop, vocalese, scat and Beat-style riffing.

Gassed on free associations and "rants," "The Messenger"features Herbie Hancock crowding a stanza with Hermann Hesse, a catnamed Clevenger buying it in a spoken film noir riff and random words("Sea lions! Sea lions! And I-talian food!") flung like magnetsagainst Edward Petersen's burly tenor sax.

On his 1995 debut album, "Close Your Eyes," which earned him aGrammy nomination for best jazz vocal, Elling bridged the chasmbetween Rainer Maria Rilke and Dave Brubeck. At a time when mostjazz singers take no greater risk than singing a pop tune instead ofa standard, his intellectual currents provide a neat jolt.But as much of a wild streak as all this suggests, the29-year-old Elling, who will celebrate the release of "The Messenger"with an April 27 performance at the Athenaeum Theater, imparts asense of being in complete control of his destiny. In siamese motionwith Laurence Hobgood, his first-rate pianist and writing partner(whose own strong-willed personality gives buoyancy to the album'smusical leaps of faith), he exerts a steely, cocksure, masculine gripon the material.For all the wiggy turns "The Messenger" takes, it is anchored inspiritual striving. Opening the album with the classic "Nature Boy,"Elling finds tender truth in the lyric ("The greatest joy you'll everlearn is just to love and be loved in return") before celebrating theheightened feeling of aliveness that love brings via a ripping androlling scat treatment.Elling's own lyrics aren't immune to cloying lines such as ". .. love-time is brief/it's like a song you must sing every day, orrisk forgetting the words" on a tribute to his late brother or thecosmic platitudes of "The Beauty of All Things," inspired by theAmerican monk Thomas Merton. But his heartfelt intentions andambition make up for any bumps on the poetic path.A product of the University of Chicago Divinity School, Ellingapproaches jazz as a religion. The high priests of his callinginclude singers Eddie Jefferson, who famously set words to standoutsolos; Jon Hendricks, who took that a step further with Lambert,Hendricks & Ross, and Mark Murphy, known for his instrumental-styleprowess, sung jazz commentary and Beat involvement on albums such as"Bop to Kerouac."In trading on their achievements, Elling is open to charges ofderivativeness and trendiness. As reflected in a new Rykodiscspoken-word tribute to Jack Kerouac with contributions from PearlJam's Eddie Vedder, Naked Lunch author William S. Burroughs and filmstarJohnny Depp, the Beats are undergoing yet another revival.But Elling's takes on them, including a manic tip of the hat tocomic Lord Buckley, come from a fresh and personal place. And aspirit of freewheeling fun, along with a spirit of devotion, lifts"The Messenger" above the fleeting involvement that marks thetrendster.Elling's career has taken as unlikely a path as his music. Hecame to the attention of Blue Note after recording the bulk of "CloseYour Eyes" in Chicago with a cast including tenor sax great VonFreeman. Label honcho Bruce Lundvall reportedly flipped over hisdemo tape during a long drive and called him on his car phone.After signing the singer up, Lundvall stayed with themade-in-Chicago versions instead of having the material East Coasted- re-recorded with New York pros - and ordered the singer to recordmore songs for the CD with the same cast.For all its high points, "Close Your Eyes" kept at an eccentricremove from its audience, too often basking in private meaning. "TheMessenger" isn't always forthcoming - you try and make sense ofElling's consciousness-streaming narrative on "Tanya Jean," set to asoulful Dexter Gordon solo (and Donald Byrd composition) from thetenorist's 1964 album "One Flight Up." But in mood and attitude,it's far more approachable and relaxed.The only major failing of "The Messenger" is its majorcommercial hook: a duet by Elling and Cassandra Wilson on the oldZombies hit "Time of the Season." Their contrasting temperaments -he's a tactile swinger who nails phrases, she's a sensualist whofloats through space - simply don't go well together. And howeveroffbeat a choice the song is, the interpretation is prettystraitlaced.Better to hear Elling team up with a like-skinned bopper likeSheila Jordan. Hearing him delightfully launch "Ginger Bread Boy" (aJimmy Heath song to which Miles Davis laid claim) with a swiping twobars of scat, you crave the idea of him linking up with her Milesaesthetic. Even more walls would tumble.