The Village Voice's annual Jazz Supplement seems to be out, or at least it's up on the web. Or most of it -- don't see the introduction that I heard supplement editor Robert Christgau wrote. The cover title is "The Genius Guide to Jazz." Needless to say, the insides don't live up to that claim, but "A Guide to Five Jazz Geniuses" would be hard to argue with. My bit was to write up a guide to David Murray. The other four guides are:

• Billie Holiday, by Farah Jasmine Griffin
• John Coltrane, by Francis Davis
• Sun Ra, by John F. Szwed
• Thelonious Monk, by Larry Blumenfeld

Garrett Shelton wrote in to thank me for writing about a living jazz musician. The other four are long gone, with Sun Ra the last to depart in 1993. I can't say as I thought of it that way, and I doubt that Christgau noticed it either, but it's a matter of some sensitivity, understandably so. There have been two big nosedives in the popularity of jazz. The first occurred in the 1940s when swing hit a fork and bebop took the high road into virtuosic art music -- a path that only got steeper with later revolts of the avant-garde -- while everyone else took the low road into pop, r&b, and rock and roll. The second came in the 1970s as a critical mass of undisputed jazz legends died off or faded from sight, taking a big chunk of the industry with them. Few jazz musicians who came up in the '70s or later -- well, even the '60s -- got the sort of exposure that would turn them into legends in the public mind. (Cecil Taylor and Steve Lacy may seem like partial exceptions, but their discographies start around 1956-57.)

This probably comes from having a sociology background and being a baseball history expert, but I'm an inveterate ranker. (Can't be that I harbor a closet preference for hierarchical social orders.) So here's one, my all-time tenor saxophone list: Coleman Hawkins, Sonny Rollins, David Murray, Stan Getz, John Coltrane, Ben Webster, Lester Young, uhh, at this point you hit a thick crowd with guys like Gene Ammons, Don Byas, Joe Henderson, Roland Kirk, Sam Rivers, and Lucky Thompson, with Ken Vandermark the most likely to advance. Other people would juggle this top seven around a bit -- probably moving Coltrane and/or Young up -- but anybody who leaves Murray off that list just hasn't been paying attention. Unfortunately, most people, and that includes most jazz critics -- just look at Downbeat's polls -- have missed Murray. In fact, those people have missed most of what's happened in jazz in the last thirty-some years, and they're still missing what's happening today.

Same basic thing has happened all across the board. Anthony Braxton is about as good an example as Murray, although he's a little more difficult for most people to get into. (I'd put him #4 on my alto saxophonist list: behind Johnny Hodges, Ornette Coleman and Art Pepper; ahead of Benny Carter, Lee Konitz, and Charlie Parker.) But the more examples I throw out, the further we get away from the point: if we don't write about musicians while they're still alive, we're suffocating the art. The point is well taken, but it's also off the point here. Legends tend to be old, and old people sooner or later wind up dead. What Robert Christgau wanted to do with this Jazz Supplement was to create something that he felt wasn't readily available: a good, short, expert but accessible primer on several key figures. The idea, as I understand it, came from some work, which I haven't seen, that Farah Jasmine Griffin had done on Billie Holiday, so she got slotted first. The other four pages were mix-and-match given the usual writers and what would be relatively easy for them to do. Francis Davis is working on a Coltrane book. John Szwed published a book on Sun Ra a while back; assigning him to do a guide filled out a need. Monk is a touchstone figure for Christgau, so I don't know whether he or Blumenfeld came up with that idea. The last piece was originally supposed to be on Ray Barretto, but that turned out to be a stretch for the assigned writer, so Christgau called me up and was desperate, offering to let me do anyone. Two names he quickly mentioned were Webster and Vandermark, but he was sold the moment I named Murray. He's followed Murray a long time -- a benefit of editing Gary Giddins. In fact, he's the one who turned me on to Low Class Conspiracy back in the late '70s.

It'll be interesting to see what he response is. This is a pretty simple way of doing the Jazz Supplement -- more fun and less sweat than trying to write major essays, and possibly more useful. But another idea might be to do critic-selected multiple artist guides limited to living musicians. Plenty to choose from there, too.

When I wrote the Murray Guide, I also wrote up a "Postscript and Disclaimer" which provided a little more context for what I selected as well as established the limits of what I haven't been able to evaluate. I offered to let the Voice post this on their website, and maybe they still will. But I haven't heard anything more about it, so it would be most useful to post it here:

I've read reports that Murray's recorded 200-300 records. The figures above (90 + 90) are all I've been able to verify, but those numbers are most likely somewhat short. The division between leader and sideman is somewhat arbitrary. His records are hard to find. I've gone out of my way to follow him, and still I've only heard heard 60 + 40 of them. No doubt I've missed some real good ones. I haven't heard 3D Family (1978, Hat Art), which he's kept as the name of his company. I've missed a bunch of the DIWs -- Remembrances (1991) has an especially strong reputation.

A lot of Murray records didn't miss the above list by much. Here's a quick rundown, plus a few comments:

Flowers for Albert: The Complete Concert (1976, India Navigation) is the only early live album I've heard. Several others have made it to CD: Flowers for Albert (1977, West Wind); Live at the Lower Manhattan Ocean Club (1977, Indian Navigation); The London Concert (1978, Cadillac).

Home (1981, Black Saint) and Murray's Steps (1982, Black Saint): further adventures with the Octet, a group that returns for Octet Plays Trane (1999, Justin Time).

I Want to Talk About You (1986, Black Saint): A live trio that ties this period together.

Special Quartet (1990, DIW): With McCoy Tyner and Elvin Jones, not to mention Fred Hopkins.

Body and Soul (1993, Black Saint): Another twist on the Hawkins classic.

The Tip and Jug-a-Lug (1994, DIW): Two upbeat sets with organ and electric guitars, one with "Sex Machine."

Other notable DIWs: Fast Life (1991), For Aunt Louise (1993), With Ray Anderson and Anthony Davis (1994).

Other piano duos: Dave Burrell's In Concert (1991, Victo) and Windward Passages (1993, Black Saint) are strongest, followed closely by Aki Takase's Blue Monk (1991, Enja).

Murray has also recorded drum duos with Kahil El'Zabar, but Love Outside of Dreams (1997, Delmark) has something extra -- one of Fred Hopkins's last performances.

I don't like the strings on Waltz Again (2002, Justin Time), but the saxophone is magnificent.

With 20 albums to date, Murray's longest-running side-project is the World Saxophone Quartet, formed in 1977 with Julius Hemphill, Oliver Lake, and Hamiett Bluiett. Hemphill was the main arranger until illness sidelined him in 1990. His records, with four saxes and nothing else, follow a purism I've never enjoyed and often found tedious. The later records are more eclectic, often with extra musicians as well as whoever they could find for Hemphill's slot. One of the best is the African drums-enhanced Selim Sivad: A Tribute to Miles Davis (1998, Justin Time).

One of the best sideman albums is Kip Hanrahan's Conjure, Music for the Texts of Ishmael Reed (1983, American Clavé), eventually followed by Bad Mouth (2005, American Clavé).

Also: D.D. Jackson, Peace-Song (1994, Justin Time).

Murray has never had a box set, a best-of, a compilation of any sort. He did get a role in Robert Altman's Kansas City, as Ben Webster. Also played on the Roots, Illadelph Halflife (1996, DGC).