Lovano flowed against the orchestral sound with a strong, aerated tone, delivering fresh melodic ideas.
Joe Lovano's decision to build an album around Enrico Caruso was unconventional enough to get attention, but what mattered more was how he executed it. Rather than treat this as a classical musician's side project or a gimmick, Lovano brought a small orchestral ensemble into the studio and let his saxophone speak as a soloist within that context — not leading a jazz combo, not playing over strings, but genuinely conversing with an arranged group. The sound that emerged was neither straight jazz nor classical homage. It occupied its own space.
The critical response confirmed what the approach suggested: this worked because Lovano didn't try to force opera into jazz language or vice versa. AllMusic rated it 4.5 out of 5 stars and called it one of his "most ambitious and enjoyable recordings." Ben Ratliff, writing for The New York Times, captured the texture of what was happening in the studio: "Against the throbbing, susurrating group sound, Mr. Lovano just flowed, playing with a strong, aerated tone; he delivered fresh, forthright melodic material and played all around it." That description — the throbbing ensemble, Lovano's aerated tone flowing through it — is the real story of what the session produced. Everything came down to the interplay between soloist and orchestration, and Lovano's willingness to let the compositions breathe rather than dominate them.
This record stands apart from much of Lovano's other work precisely because it forced different constraints. He wasn't in a familiar jazz context, which meant the melodic and harmonic choices had to come from listening to unfamiliar material and finding the jazz in it, rather than simply playing his natural voice over a rhythm section. That shift in approach — the originality of the idea paired with careful execution — is what made the set distinctive.