SWEET SWING BLUES ON THE ROAD

Marsalis writes as elegantly as he plays the trumpet, so fans will doubtless enjoy his atmospheric musings on playing jazz across America, nicely complemented by photographer/filmmaker Stewart's glamorously black-and-white photos. Less indulgent readers may notice that there's not much new here: the usual tributes to band members (``one of the finest musicians in the world,'' ``a great jazz musician,'' etc.), remarks on the grinding travel routine (``the road is an endless series of `Are we here?' ''), and bouquets to the audience (``What I really love about meeting people we have played for is the range of personalities''). Also not new are Marsalis's bad-tempered putdowns of popular culture other than jazz—music videos are ``visual projections of the purest ignorance and worst intentions,'' and he decries ``young sensibilities slowly destroyed by the alpha-wave onslaught''—though he claims to like rap. Marsalis is a lot more appealing when he gets off his soapbox and concentrates on extolling (with considerable eloquence) the music he loves.