Jazz singers live to put new twists into familiar songs. Cassandra Wilson took a break from her more idiosyncratic compositions when she recorded an album of standards called Blue Skies (1988). Blue Light 'til Dawn goes beyond that record's more predictable repertoire, surrounding a handful of Wilson's own songs with selections from more contemporary writers and breaking exciting new ground with two selections from the Delta blues songbook of Robert Johnson.

Blues is intrinsic to the language of jazz, of course, but the sophisticated purity of country blues could easily be smothered under a surfeit of technique. Fortunately, Wilson has a wily guide in guitarist Brandon Ross, whose inventive arrangements are both true to the original compositions and flexible enough to accommodate the singer's expansive vocals. "Come On in My Kitchen" supports Wilson's sensual invitation with a jittery rhythm evoked by choked guitar strings and sweetly undermined by the romantic undulations of an accordion. Loping guitar figures provide a starker setting for "Hellhound on My Trail," in which Wilson's vocals are dogged by the guttural cornet of Olu Dara.

Wilson and Ross establish equally distinctive tableaux on their other collaborations. On "You Don't Know What Love Is," a moody acoustic guitar underscores a lovely lyric that follows the words of the title with "Until you know the meaning of the blues." A pleasingly literal approach to Van Morrison's "Tupelo Honey" finds Wilson's warm embrace of the melody suggesting a leisurely stroll through a field of spring flowers. Elsewhere, Wilson and other arrangers aim for a similarly intimate chamber jazz, but none are better than her five selections with Ross.

Joni Mitchell's "Black Crow" is set atop a chattering bed of percussion, but for all the jostling between Wilson's voice and Don Byron's clarinet, the interpretation never quite takes flight. Similarly, a skeletal version of Ann Peebles' "I Can't Stand the Rain," in which Wilson's only accompaniment is Chris Whitley's slide guitar, dismantles a memorable tune without offering an equally strong new vision. Wilson fares much better on her own "Blue Light 'til Dawn," in which her voice delicately slides around a steel guitar and offers a more urbane example of how this lady sings the blues. (RS 678)

JOHN MILWARD