JAZZ hacks, being in general a timid breed, tend to fight shy of making definitive statements about musicians until they are either very old or very dead . . .

the musician, that is, not the hack. We may dream of being the first person to proclaim the genius of a Coltrane or an Ellington, but perhaps fear more the mortification of canonising a minnow.

So it is not without trepidation that I come, not to bury Joe Lovano, but to praise him. Still in his early 50s, Joseph Salvatore Lovano is in the prime of his career, and has many years left in which to make the sort of stupid mistakes that can ruin a legacy. Moreover, though he is only a few years younger than other saxophonists of his generation, like Michael Brecker and Dave Liebman, Lovano didn't really emerge as an individual until the mid-'80s, so his personal style is not as mature as his age might suggest.

Yet it is hard not to praise the sheer mastery of Lovano's tenor playing. Whether he is improvising freely in Paul Motian's trio with guitarist Bill Frisell, or leading his own bebop-leaning quartet with pianist Hank Jones, or interpreting Caruso with a ninepiece orchestra, Lovano's blend of rhythmic and melodic fluidity and utter harmonic conviction mark him out as one of the greatest tenor players of his generation, and the natural successor to free-blowing tenorists like Sonny Rollins, Dexter Gordon and Joe Henderson.

Born in Cleveland, Ohio, the son of saxophonist Tony 'Big T' Lovano, the young Joseph had all the hallmarks of a prodigy. He was playing shortly after he was walking, grew up with a large jazz record collection close to hand, and was jamming in local clubs while still in his teens. And yet, to his credit, Lovano has taken his time. After a stint at Berklee, the saxophonist initially moved back to his home town and served his time playing in other people's bands. Though he made the inevitable move to New York city in 1976, he continued to show good sense, eschewing the limelight and gaining more experience as a sideman. After a promising start, playing club dates with trumpeter Chet Baker, Lovano spent the next 10 years serving an apprenticeship in big bands, in the manner of the swing-era players, first with Woody Herman and then, in 1980, with Mel Lewis's Orchestra, playing a weekly Monday-night residency with the drummer in the Village Vanguard. Perhaps this long apprenticeship explains Lovano's unique ability to bridge the artistic divide between bebop and free jazz.

Lovano's real artistic breakthrough came in the mid'80s, through his work with drummer Paul Motian. With guitarist Bill Frisell, the three created a group that remains perhaps the finest improvising unit in contemporary music. They still play together occasionally.

Through his experience in the Motian trio, Lovano became one of the first tenor players to really get to grips with the guitar, just as it was replacing the piano as the most ubiquitous harmonic instrument in jazz. Lovano's recordings with guitarist John Scofield in the late '80s, particularly Meant to Be (Blue Note, 1990), appeared like a bolt from the blue, and seemed to find new ground that could accommodate both the rigours of straight-ahead be-bop and the looser approach of free and fusion.

Indeed, this synthesis of old and new may be Lovano's great achievement. To hear him improvise is to hear the history of the music shine through; yet he is a thoroughly modern player, with a masterful ability to give harmony the slip. And he just might, at this stage, be fairly regarded as the finest tenor player of his generation. There, I said it.

Joe Lovano's Nonet play the Cork Opera House tonight as part of the Guinness Jazz Festival.

More details from www. corkjazzfestival. com