The first time I interviewed the composer and conductor Maria Schneider, in 1996, I made the mistake of referring to her ensemble as a “big band.” Without becoming defensive, Ms. Schneider explained that she prefers to describe the group as a “Jazz Orchestra.” When I first heard her say it, the difference seemed academic. But over the past dozen years, I have increasingly come to appreciate that, as Ms. Schneider defines it, orchestral jazz and big-band music can be seen as two distinct forms of expression.

Ms. Schneider, who finished a successful run of shows at the Jazz Standard yesterday, has had plenty of predecessors in this music, starting with Duke Ellington (particularly the Ellington of “Black, Brown, and Beige” and “Harlem”), Gil Evans, William Russo, Bob Brookmeyer, and Thad Jones. The difference is that all of these artists emerged from the commercial music industry, whereas Ms. Schneider has spent nearly her whole career in this particular field. Orchestral jazz, as Ms. Schneider composes it, takes the form (and the support system) of classical music, but the context of jazz. It uses big-band instrumentation (brass section, reeds, and rhythm, plus occasional guests) and the rhythmic tradition of swing (no matter what the time signature is), and features improvising soloists.

Taken as a whole, Ms . Schneider’s orchestral jazz isn’t much different from Benny Goodman’s big-band jazz, but the distinctions are clear. Big-band jazz, like its small-combo counterpart, frequently makes use of existing songs — traditionally jazz and related-pop standards. Ms. Schneider’s ensemble only performs compositions written by her for the group. Like the music of Charles Mingus (and unlike that of Ellington or Thelonious Monk), her works are rarely played by other groups. Her compositions are intertwined with her orchestrations and with her orchestra, meaning they aren’t intended to exist beyond that.

Ms. Schneider almost never thinks in terms of 32-bar song form, and her compositions rarely divide themselves conveniently into easily digestible eight-bar phrases. You won’t hear much that sounds like it grew out of a riff or a head arrangement, or that uses the basic structure of the blues (12 bars with a 2-5-1 progression).

The compositions of Monk and Ellington can be boiled to a core of a tune that can be re-harmonized, re-orchestrated, and re-interpreted in countless ways. Ms. Schneider’s pieces are rarely driven by melody, but by orchestral color, rhythm, and mood. They are gloriously descriptive and frequently programmatic; she is more concerned with narrative than with “selling” a simple tune. In that respect, they’re often like movie music, although it’s hard to imagine any cinematic visual images that wouldn’t pale in comparison.

Like a classical composer, Ms. Schneider works in terms of commissions, and is probably the least prolific major artist in contemporary jazz. Her discography is almost embarrassingly small (even compared with her infamously slow and deliberate mentor, the late Gil Evans). But at least that ensures that every new album is an event. Her most recent album — just her fifth since 1992 — surely is.

The cover of “Sky Blue” marks the first time the 46-year-old Ms. Schneider has gone in for glam art. She is captured in mid-dance (from the waist up) before a sea-blue background, looking rather like a mermaid. The first piece is titled “The Pretty Road,” and overall, this is her prettiest album to date. Where Ellington was inspired by the sights, sounds, and even smells he encountered on the streets (and in the air shafts) of Harlem, Ms. Schneider is a soul loved by nature: “Pretty Road” is a woodland path in her native Minnesota; “Aires de Lando” utilizes an extremely complex rhythm that she discovered in a Peruvian village, more complicated than any in traditional Western music, and “Cerulean Skies” was inspired by her bird-watching in Central Park. Ms. Schneider may be the only ornithologist in jazz for whom that term doesn’t refer to a study of Charlie Parker: The piece ends with a field recording of the actual Cerulean Warbler.

Ms. Schneider adheres to the tradition of her forefathers (and foremothers, such as Mary Lou Williams and Toshiko Akiyoshi) in that specific pieces are built around major soloists. Scott Robinson’s animated clarinet drives “Aires de Lando” as much as the song’s time signature does. Likewise, the tenor saxophonist Rich Perry is the force behind “Rich’s Piece,” and Steve Wilson is all over “Sky Blue.” The solos are completely integrated into the larger frameworks, yet Ms. Schneider makes her 18-piece orchestra sound amazingly intimate.

If only the recording industry was so intimate with its most innovative artists. Alas, orchestral jazz is expensive to produce and not very commercially viable. But it is held together and given life by the sheer force of will of composer-conductors like Ms. Schneider, and we’re all the beneficiaries of their determination to get that music heard.

wfriedwald@nysun.com