Categories may be a necessary evil for record labels, but they’re only a hindrance to musicians and open-minded consumers. Great players care more about the quality of what they’re playing than whether they’re executing a blues riff or jazz progression. I’ve spent a huge chunk of my life enjoying a vast array of idioms, and this inaugural edition of my new regularly appearing Scene column reflects my views on intriguing, overlooked, occasionally offbeat records in a variety of genres.

Guitarist Pat Metheny has forged a singular identity without taking sides in the unending acoustic vs. electric and traditional vs. unconventional conflicts perpetually raging in the jazz world. He’s made outside and inside records, recorded with Ornette Coleman and Jim Hall, played delicate, lyrical dates and cut atonal, raging sessions. But his newest offering, Speaking of Now (Warner Bros.), seems simultaneously a retreat and advance. The arrangements recall such pastoral Metheny albums as Bright Size Life and As Falls Wichita, So Falls Wichita Falls, but the textures and incorporation of African and Latin rhythms indicate a more ambitious direction.

New band members trumpeter Cuong Vu, drummer Antonio Sanchez and percussionist/vocalist Richard Bona have brought renewed vitality to a Metheny band that was becoming a bit tame. Lyle Mays remains the rare jazz keyboardist whose electronic solos are more interesting than his acoustic ones, while Metheny displays on “Proof,” “The Gathering Sky” and “A Place in the World” the haunting voicings, expressive solos and unusual harmonic maneuvers that have kept him in good standing even with purists. Despite Bona’s often tepid lead vocals, the new Pat Metheny band boast a stronger, more assertive sound. The leader/guitarist still sometimes composes lightweight melodic material, but the group deftly embellish his compositions, and their interaction makes the nine cuts on Speaking of Now far more unpredictable and rewarding than expected.

Saxophonist Ned Otter’s So Little Time (Two & Four) sparkles despite its rigid hard bop setting. That’s because bandleader and tenor saxophonist Otter is a protégé of George Coleman’s. His solos reveal a rich, mellow tone, keen ideas, strong phrasing and impressive agility that serve him well on such cuts as “The Right to Know,” “Nica’s Tempo,” “So Little Time” and “Silhouette.” In addition, Coleman’s also on board, playing alto and tenor. Despite trying not to overshadow his pupil, Coleman inserts delightful, skittering accompaniment and bluesy answers to Otter’s and trumpeter Tom Kirkpatrick’s unison statements and solo passages. In lesser hands So Little Time might have degenerated into just another blowing session, but the front line of Otter, Coleman and Kirkpatrick prevents that from happening. This was also one of the late Billy Higgins’ final dates, and his amazing cymbal work and invigorating rhythms wonderfully anchor the recording.

Big Jack Johnson is a blues warrior, an accomplished giant still cutting memorable releases while being overlooked by the legions vainly searching for the next Stevie Ray Vaughan. The Memphis Barbecue Sessions (M.C.) matches Johnson’s earthy, prominent voice with Pinetop Perkins’ rolling boogie-woogie piano licks and Kim Wilson’s furious, sputtering harmonica. There’s nothing subtle or cute about Johnson’s singing; when he bowls through the lyrics on “Humming Blues,” “Oh Baby” or Little Walter’s “Don’t Care Nothing,” he offers stripped-down, forlorn, elemental blues. His guitar playing is equally sparse, direct and unadorned. But it’s Wilson who ultimately emerges as the session’s instrumental star, his rattling upper-register forays providing several numbers with extra punch and authority. Still, this is Big Jack Johnson’s disc, and it’s marked by his authoritative presence; if there’s anyone capable of bringing a new slant to “Smokestack Lighting” or “Blue Bird” in 2002, it’s him.

Like Johnson, Charlie Musselwhite is also a blues warrior, but one who has defied the narrow definitions frequently imposed on the genre. Since he has previously explored Afro-Cuban material and jazz, it’s quite fitting that the harmonica master is now exploring country on One Night in America (Telarc). He’s always had a laconic, loping and relaxed quality to his singing, and he nicely teams with Kelly Willis on Albert Brumley’s tart “Rank Strangers to Me.” Musselwhite is appropriately prophetic on “In Your Darkest River,” then turns more soulful on Jimmy Reed’s “Ain’t That Lovin’ You Baby.” Marty Stuart’s rollicking guitar and mandolin assistance on “In a Town This Size” and “Rank Strangers to Me” reaffirms the stylistic link between blues and country, while guitarists G.E. Smith and Robben Ford display their speed and crackling solos on “Trail of Tears” and “I’ll Meet You Over There.” Though he occasionally highlights his intense, layered harmonica style, Musselwhite is mainly content on this release to accent his smoky, mournful vocals, showing he’s been equal parts blues, soul and country throughout his career.

Jimmy Scott has also mixed and matched styles ever since he astonished listeners with his range and wispy falsetto as a featured vocalist for Lionel Hampton in the ’40s. With his newest, But Beautiful (Milestone), Scott has completed his final volume in a trilogy of great American standards, and hearing him probe the lyrics of “This Bitter Earth,” “You Don’t Know What Love Is” and “Please Send Me Someone to Love” is an occasion to savor. Every song here gets transformed by Scott. His treatments are so magical, they almost make listeners forget the first-rate instrumental support he receives from trumpeter Wynton Marsalis on “Darn That Dream” and from tenor saxophonist Eric Alexander, bassist George Mraz, guitarist Joe Beck and pianist Renee Rosnes throughout the date. (Rosnes doubles as primary session arranger.) Scott at 76 hasn’t lost any depth or vocal quality, even if he can’t hold his notes as long or soar as high. Instead, he frequently shows on But Beautiful that lyric interpretation and song pacing are just as important as sheer technique, if not more so.

Jaguar Wright and Angelique Kidjo are younger singers putting their own spin on established styles. Wright’s Denials, Delusions and Decisions (MCA) defiantly signals her refusal to adopt standard neo-soul production, while Kidjo forges an erratic yet stunning mix of African, Latin, rock and urban elements on Black Ivory Soul (Columbia).

Onetime Jay-Z background vocalist Wright has crafted a work that’s frequently charming and always compelling, even if she on occasion seems more snarling than animated. Her salty language on “The What If’s” and “Same Sh♦t Different Day Pt. 1” shows she’s interested in discussing more than just the positive aspects of relationships. Yet she has an introspective, sentimental side that’s fully showcased on her stirring version of Patti LaBelle’s “Love Need and Want You.” Wright sometimes crams too many topics into one number, but the fire and dynamic energy in her leads indicate she possesses the raw goods to make any song credible, and much of what she has to say on Denials, Delusions and Decisions merits attention. The throwaway duet with Bilal on “I Can’t Wait” seems the only calculated marketing decision; everything else has the ring of an emerging, intriguing performer who should only get better.

Angelique Kidjo has wrestled with balancing traditional and contemporary sensibilities since she became part of her mother’s theater and dance company in Benin at age 6. She’s recorded jazz, pop and rock, and she’s sung songs in her native Fon tongue, as well as in Yoruba. Yet there remain world music enthusiasts who express displeasure with her willingness to blend approaches and genres. Kidjo lashed out at these folk in a recent issue of Savoy magazine, telling interviewer Branford Marsalis that some people were upset because she didn’t “appear onstage barefoot.”

This crew won’t be very pleased with Black Ivory Soul, which boasts the unmistakable production stamp of Bill Laswell. This means that while Kidjo’s sensual leads give such numbers as “Bahia,” “Afrika” and “Iemanja” a striking, declarative tinge, Laswell has surrounded her luxurious voice with simmering synthesizers, multitracked vocals and bustling instrumental backdrops. The title cut’s entrancing melody, for instance, nearly gets overwhelmed by the accompaniment, and elsewhere Kidjo doesn’t always find the middle ground between the past and present. However, rousing numbers like “Mondjuba” and the beautiful closing ballad “Ces Petits Riens” are examples of the singer in top form. She’s a lot closer to discovering that elusive comfort zone on Black Ivory Soul than on any past recording.