In 1964, when the trumpeter Charles Tolliver made his first recording on “It’s Time” with Jackie McLean’s band, he was already playing the style of jazz that he more or less continues to employ today. It is based on a foundation of the quintessential modern jazz as established by Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker in the 1940s, but heavily and equally informed by two movements that were flourishing at the time — the hard-boppers on one side and the early free-jazz players on the other. Mr. Tolliver’s jazz could have been labeled “avant-bop.” Thus, from the beginning, Mr. Tolliver’s music was made richer by utilizing characteristics of at least three different kinds of jazz; when the trumpeter-composer began writing music for his own big band, he added yet another dimension — that of the swing-derived jazz orchestra.

Indeed, when listening to Mr. Tolliver’s first recorded composition, “Cancellation” (on “It’s Time”), I am struck by how consistent it is with the music he continues to write and play for his big band, which is appearing all week at Jazz Standard. Mr. Tolliver’s orchestra is also represented by its first album, “With Love,” which was released this month as a joint project by the Blue Note and Mosaic labels. Even 40 years ago, Mr. Tolliver had a gift for writing strong melodies and the good sense to employ conventional forms only when they were useful to him; he was not tethered to tradition, nor was he breaking the rules and being different just for the sake of it.

In fact, the consistency of Mr. Tolliver’s music over the years is illustrated perfectly by a composition of his called “Truth.” This medium tempo, mid-range feature for the composer’s trumpet is one of three Tolliver tunes on that 1964 album and it was the second tune he played in his opening set Tuesday at Jazz Standard, where his big band made its live debut in 2003.

Mr. Tolliver began the show with the first song on the new album, “Rejoicin’,” a fast, swinging tune in waltz tempo; in fact, tenor saxist Billy Harper’s aggressive solo was proof positive, if anyone should ever doubt, that three-four can be just as in-your-face as a solid four. This is a big, powerful band, featuring five reeds, four trombones, five trumpets (including the leader), and three rhythm players. Even in waltz-time, this band is so loud and powerful that the club hardly need bother asking patrons to silence their cell phones or keep their conversations to a minimum.

For the third tune, Mr. Tolliver called on the album’s title track, “With Love,” and though it isn’t exactly the ballad the name might suggest, it is comparatively mellow, with a lightly Latinate touch — inasmuch as anything this powerhouse outfit plays can be light. Here, the first solo was by the band’s other tenor star, Bill Saxton, who quoted both “Nutty” and “Surry With the Fringe on Top.” There was also an extended spot for the outstanding pianist George Cables. As “With Love” reached its climax, two saxes, Mr. Saxton, and the alto saxist Matt Willis, began improvising simultaneously; next time you looked, all five reeds were doing it — and then the whole band.

The band concluded with “Right Now” and “Suspicion.” The first is another 1964 piece written for the McLean quintet, which the composer recorded four years later on his first album as a leader, “Paper Man.” Rearranged for orchestra, the tune is now a showcase for the baritone saxist Howard Johnson, and sounds like a herd of rampaging rhinoceros, with Mr. Johnson’s low-A baritone leading the charge. The latter is a fast and furious, very dark number in 6/8, which opens with the melody on bass and also features a spot for drummer Victor Lewis, as well as the leader’s hardhitting trumpet; the combination of these elements made it seem like orchestrated Charles Mingus.

But this is Mr. Tolliver’s music all the way through. Between the fully realized versions of “Truth” and “Right Now” and his equally fine new compositions (not to mention the presence of the bassist Cecil McPhee, who played side-by-side with Mr. Tolliver in the Jackie McLean Quintet 43 years ago), it’s clear that Mr. Tolliver is making essentially the same music he was at the start of his career, only now he’s doing it better than ever.

***

Note from one critic to another: Attention Scott Siegel, who produced the 2007 Nightlife Awards Monday on night at Town Hall. Dear Scott: thanks for another excellent evening of the best in cabaret, jazz, and comedy. I was honored once again to serve on your panel of judges. I was delighted, as I expected to be, by such winners as the Christine Ebersole-Billy Stritch combination doing the Noel Cowardesque waltz “Will You” from “Grey Gardens.” And I was knocked out by the wedding of jazz and Broadway when John Pizzarelli and Jessica Molaskey spliced together two masterful double-talk confections, “Cloudburst” and “Getting Married Today.” As if getting Jon Hendricks and Stephen Sondheim together weren’t enough, Mr. Pizzarelli kept quoting Wagner’s march from “Lohegrin” on his seven-string guitar and imitating James Mason in “A Star Is Born.”

This was the first time I actually “got” Scott Coulter, whose musical monologue, “I Won’t Mind,” had me thoroughly choked up, and even Freddy Cole’s song of seduction, “What Are You Afraid Of?” was more slyly erotic than I expected.

As a producer, your masterstroke, as always, was the elimination of acceptance speeches, thus turning an awards show into a real concert. Bravo! But Scott, you don’t take it far enough. It’s great that you don’t allow the winners to babble on, but now you have to get rid of all those long-winded presenters and the introductions that precede and follow them. First someone introduces the presenter, who then makes an invariably interminable and self-serving speech that has little do with the winning artist. Please, next year, nix all non-performing presenters, unless they’re going to actually sing, like Larry Gatlin, or do a comic monologue, like Judy Gold. (Okay, I’ll make an exception for Liza Minelli, although I’m still not completely convinced that wasn’t Christine Pedi in Liza drag.)

I could have used a little more stand-up comedy, but thanks also for Ben Riley’s Monk Legacy Septet, chugging their way through “Hackensack,” and the marvelous Mellissa Errico (even if she was dressed like the disco pirate queen). Note to all male cabaret singers: please don’t sit on the grand piano — that’s strictly a diva thing. Note to all white cabaret singers of either gender: Please don’t try to sing the blues. You just can’t. Sorry, but facts are facts. Don’t take it personally. So long, Scott, bubby, love to Barbara and see you next year.

wfriedwald@nysun.com