Too much Taj? Nothing’s impossible. Since shaking off the roots-music curse of the ’80s (with ’91’s stylishly eclectic Like Never Before), the artist born Henry St. Clair Fredericks (the name Taj Mahal, he has said, came to him early in life in a dream) has proven to be an undeniably prolific musician—not to imply the gravel-voiced troubador ever had a problem in that area. During the first phase of his career, from ’68-’77, the son of a West Indian jazz pianist and Southern gospel singer made 11 records (including two double albums) for Columbia Records and three more for Warner Brothers. During the implicit roots embargo of the ’80s, Taj relocated his recording activity overseas and made the occasional children’s records. But since his return to full-time recording and touring in ’91, he’s put out no less than a dozen new recordings and served as the subject of four compilations (including the 3-CD In Progress & In Motion). That track record is all the more remarkable given that not one Taj Mahal album has ever been easy to categorize. With recordings in a variety of blues- and jazz-based settings (both unplugged and “wired”) which led up to a period of late-’70s experiments in Caribbean-inspired jamming, most recently Taj has hooked up with classical Indian musicians J.M. Bhatt and N. Rivikiran (Mamtaz Mahal on the Water Lily label), action hero Steven Seagal (for the Fire Down Below soundtrack), a collection of luminaries from his Hawaiian homebase (Taj Mahal and the Hula Blues Band, Sacred Island) and an ensemble of musicians from Mali led by the kora virtuoso Toumani Diabate (last year’s Kulanjan). Throughout, he’s confounded those critics who want to categorize him as a blues revivalist when, in fact, he has become a living artist in his own right who’s primary well of inspiration is the deep blues and R&B traditions of America but whose pioneer inclinations have directed him to connect those blues expressions to other family members, both distance and ancestral.

Now comes a nearly 60-minute live recording with a band that’s named for one of his string of mid-’90s Private Music studio releases working out on several of his most familiar selections, and even the most-dedicated fan is tempted to cry, “Enough!” The assumption, naturally, is that here we have a half-hearted attempt to piece together random live performances simply for another piece of Taj Mahal “product.” Instead, what Shoutin’ in Key offers is a tightly rehearsed band of veteran musicians recording live on a program that mixes the newly adapted (Bill Doggett’s well-known Memphis instrumental “Honky Tonk,” which opens the set, and “Rain from the Sky,” based on a reggae-tinged Jamaican folk song) and the newly composed (“Woulda Coulda Shoulda,” which mighta been an undiscovered Otis Redding ballad, and “Cruisin’,” with the classic feel of a road-song confessional) with an unsually inclusive selection of the tried-and-true (“Corrina,” “Leavin’ Trunk,” and “Paint My Mailbox Blue” from the early years; Percy Mayfield’s “Stranger in Own Home Town,” “Ev’ry Wind in the River,” and “The Hoochie Coochie Coo” from the more recent past). Recording live, Taj has added the most essential ingredient of all, the incalculable effect of his own enveloping, indomitable spirit. What sounds at first like first-class R&B-based arrangements turn out to be small gems whose facets, in fact, reflect entire hemispheres of African and tropical influences. Instead of a catalog stuffer, Shoutin’ in Key proves itself a casual and comprehensive statement of an all-consuming career. I’ve been an ardent fan for more years than I care to count and more than most might be tempted to file away a live Taj rehash, but this one’s been sticking in my CD tray. And every time it’s over, I keep wishing there were more. At nearly 60, Taj Mahal appears to have reached a pinnacle in his career, demonstrating why he needs to be thought of as one our most accomplished and innovative African American artists.