Howard Wiley’s The Angola Project is full of anger, bitterness, sorrow, joy and beautiful music. Inspired by Louisiana’s Angola State Penitentiary, which he calls “one of the last hold outs of the antebellum plantations system,” Wiley pulls together original compositions, an Ornette Coleman tune and traditional prison and gospel songs into a coherent, masterful suite that’s orchestral and far reaching without ever losing the edge of jazz. 

Wiley can make his tenor shout and scream. Like some other young players, he treats the avant-garde as another legitimate register in jazz and not a religion. He recalls David Murray’s youthful ambitions, and the elder saxophonist joins Wiley on “Angola,” a haunting orchestral song that stubbornly refuses to offer resolution. At the same time, he can lead his ensemble through the rollicking “Twelve Gates to the City,” based on a spiritual recorded by an Angola State Penitentiary a cappella group, or match the energy of a New Orleans brass band in the concluding “Second Line.” 

Jazz suites with grand narrative ambitions often lack the urgency of improvisation. They can veer too close to Hollywood soundtracks, becoming efforts to be taken seriously rather than serious efforts. The outstanding Angola Project, despite its subject and scope, never feels mannered. It doesn’t sound like a lesson. It sounds like something lived.