Notes is notes. Whether they were meant to be blown out a horn, scratched on a string or buzzed on a reed does make a difference--don't get me wrong. The instrument, or the way it is amplified or recorded, can dictate the emotion. But on a very real level, music will always be describable, to those who can read the language, as dots on a page.

The first time I ever heard "classical" music played on a saxophone was as a kid, at some odd arts lecture I attended in New York. I didn't go to many of these events, so you'd figure that I'd remember what the hell this was all about. I don't. All I remember was some dude got up and said, "Classical Music can be played on a saxophone, you know," and then proceeded to play a fugue. Fair enough.

In the late 1980s, at the height of his Sting: Bring On The Night exposure, Branford Marsalis released the highly touted "Romances for Saxophone." Rich in class, but low on swagger, this album was simple and beautiful, and it quickly cleared a space for itself on the "crossover hall of fame" shelf.

Over a decade later comes Aria by the late Grover Washington, Jr. Washington, who lived through to the final mix, spent the better part of his career crafting better-than-average smooth jazz. A dubious talent, to be sure, but the man had chops and intelligence, as well as songwriting ability (rappers still sample him).

"Aria" borrows from twelve operas. Obvious picks include Puccini and Bizet, not-so-obvious include Massanet and Delibes. It's also fun to see Porgy and Bess represented, played straight here as a sort of response to the Miles Davis/Gil Evans interpretation, which to my mind still stands as the greatest jazz recording of all time.

But this is not really jazz. Nor is it, like that lecturer once showed me years ago, an example of how "classical can be played on saxophone." Washington can't not fill his horn with soul. (Marsalas, for what it's worth, was able to do so for his "classical" album.) Playing with the full St. Luke's Orchestra is the legendary bassist Ron Carter, as well as pianist Billy Childs. Trumpeter Terence Blanchard makes a guest appearance where appropriate.

Washington weighs in on the full spectrum of horns, from soprano to baritone (let's see how the cats at Sony Classical spin that into a "more than just Tenors!" pitch.) Washington makes each register seem inevitable for the piece.

This is not an album for pure jazz-heads. I'm not familiar with the score of each Aria represented here, but I believe the improvising to be limited to just some flourishes at the beginning and end of each phrase. But, hey, if the jazz-heads can't take "La Boheme" played straight once in a while, I think it's fair to say that they are the ones who are missing out.

Some of the orchestration does have a touch of the safe, Disney-style rise and fall that I'm having a terrible time describing right now. I won't say tin can, but I will say quick decision making. Washington is very much recorded in the foreground, some of the orchestra sounds like afterthought.

Still, the album evokes wonderful emotion, is just different enough (it is a sax!) to make you sit up and listen, and makes me regret that Washington died when he did, if this is any indication of the direction in which he wanted to take his career.

Yuppie households throughout the Northeast: rejoice! You're Sunday brunch crossover album of the year has arrived!