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As might have been guessed from its title, the album attempts to trace the history of the African-American people through music. Marsalis is aided by Walter Blanding on tenor and soprano saxophones, Dan Nimmer on piano, Carlos Henriquez on bass, Ali Jackson Jr. on drums and the voice of Jennifer Sanon. The use of vocals, integral to telling the story, again harks back to the roots of jazz, when the human voice was a more important part of the music than it is now. Helpfully, the liner notes of the album contain the lyrics of all the pieces in full.

Marsalis composed all the music on the album (presumably writing the lyrics as well) and ably succeeds in narrating the story line with his sextet. The title track, which opens the album, sets the mood with Jackson getting a workout on his drum kit, in which the tambourine plays a prominent role, a role that returns from time to time on the album to evoke the early days of slavery.

The music is tightly written as a suite, so one could have thought there was not much scope for improvisation, the very essence of jazz. But such apprehensions are repeatedly proved wrong by the meaty solos, taken by Marsalis and Blanding primarily, but also occasionally by Nimmer and at least once each by Jackson and Henriquez. Both Henriquez and Jackson are quite strong in their supporting roles, making this a well-balanced team effort.

The title track, “Supercapitalism” with its fast tempo evoking the hectic pace of the modern consumer society, and “Where Y’all at?”, with its rap vocal (probably Marsalis, judging by the voice) questioning what has become of the rebels of old, are the highlights of an album which should, however, be judged as an integral whole. And the whole comes off emphatically.

Along with his taking composer credit for two of the six tracks (two others were from the pop/jazz canon, and the remaining two were composed by a little-known and short-lived fellow-trumpeter), Hubbard’s musicianship on this album presages his position as the foremost trumpeter among his contemporaries. Evidently, the title of the album shows prescience.

Like with most jazz from the middle of the last century, leadership, however, only means a position of being first among equals. All Hubbard’s colleagues here were or are virtuosos on their instruments and all had already established themselves as such.

In keeping with the vogue of the time, the bulk of the solos are taken by Hubbard, Shorter and Walton, with Workman and Jones coming into the spotlight only occasionally. Jones does so on the first track, “Philly Mignon”, a fast-paced piece obviously written by Hubbard in his honour. Workman’s turn comes on the closing track, “Assunta”, on which his solo intro and solo closing motif are a welcome change from the pyrotechnics that Walton, Shorter and Hubbard serve up in the rest of the pieces.

Most difficult of all is Hubbard’s game try at interpreting “Body and Soul”, a ballad for which Coleman Hawkins had set up an almost impossible standard a generation earlier with his very radical improvisation as soon as he played the basic theme at the opening. It is praise, not criticism, to say Hubbard comes close to matching up to that standard.

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