Joshua Redman, all of 24 when his eponymous debut album was released seven years ago, like too many of his former-young-lion contemporaries was thrust into the limelight far too early, long before he had a chance of even making a stab at a sound of his own. The saxophonist, son of legendary saxophonist Dewey Redman, bested the competition at the Thelonious Monk competition in 1991, spent a too-brief period recording with the likes of drummer Elvin Jones and pianist John Hicks and then ... became the show.

Many critics, in their rush to crown a new king of reeds, lavished Redman's admirable if rather revelation-free early discs with praise once reserved for the likes of the instrument's innovators. The massive hype has paid off handsomely, as suggested by the materials promoting the new "Beyond." The facts: He's responsible for "over 2 million albums sold worldwide," a remarkable figure for an instrumentalist a)not named Marsalis and b)not heard on smooth-jazz radio. Redman, indeed, is a loose-limbed, natural sounding player, able to synthesize the sound of several generations of saxophone titans. But he certainly hasn't invented anything new.

"Beyond," Redman's seventh disc as a leader, ought to silence the inevitable backlash that came in the wake of all that noisy adulation. The album, recorded with his recent touring band - pianist Aaron Goldberg, bassist Reuben Rogers and drummer Gregory Hutchinson - and devoid of superstar guests and attention-getting covers, has the saxophonist offering a more mature, personal, commanding approach on 10 compelling original compositions. Several boast unusual time signatures, and the beefy set pushes past the 73-minute mark.

Maybe it's the deep-blue melancholy, rolling easily off Redman's tenor, that adds so much heft to his attack. That's a quality first heard on opener "Courage (Asymmetric Aria)," a pretty tune in 13/4 time. That burnished edge reappears on the moving ballad "Neverend," originally heard on his 1995 "Spirit of the Moment: Live at the Village Vanguard." During the improvisation, he wraps decorative ellipses around his main statements. He closes the composition with an air-raid high sound, sliding way down and then way up to the final note. It's a piece that might have been right at home on the soundtrack of a noir film, not to mention John Coltrane's classic "Ballads" album.

Redman shows off his delicate soprano sound on "Balance," winding down the piece with a long burn-out section, repeating the last four bars of the form until a sort of frenzy sets in, and he stretches out even more on "Twilight ... And Beyond," an 11-minute suite featuring an opening theme originally written for Anna Deveare Smith's play about the Los Angeles riots. He alternates a foghorn-like deep note with serpentine Eastern phrases on the cryptically titled "Last Rites of Rock & Roll."

And saxophonist Mark Turner joins his old Boston pal for the dizzying "Leap of Faith." The two tenors begin with a low, dissonance-laced hum, later shadowing and circling one another, diving in and out of the action in a game of one-upmanship that simultaneously sounds like serious musical camaraderie. Call it the two tenors, post-bop division, an extra added attraction on a disc that may well yield a reappreciation of the thirtysomething's talent: The cat is serious.
- PHILIP BOOTH (This review originally appeared online at Salon.com)