Jazz musicians have long understood that their work runs the risk of offending their audiences. Whether borrowing from the past and creating friction as it collides with new genres, or destroying preconceived musical boundaries entirely, Charles Mingus was no exception. Famously intense and often angry -- he once kicked a tape recorder out of a fan's hand at one concert in Germany, and even hit a trombonist and arranger with a chair the night before a concert (maybe the man could've had a career in ECW today) -- he was one of jazz's most controversial figures among audiences and musicians alike. Nonetheless, he was extremely talented and forward-thinking, as this album proves. From lugubrious New Orleans big-band wails to minimal piano interludes to pre-hardcore-punk drumbeats and free-jazz explosions, "The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady" is a suite that encompasses all the emotion and turmoil of Mingus' life. This makes an excellent soundtrack to his rambling, bizarre autobiography, "Beneath the Underdog," wherein he brags of being a pimp, making love to 36 women in one night, etc., only occasionally talking about his sources of artistic inspiration (unless, you know, such events were those sources). It's difficult -- I remember hating this the first few times I heard it -- but extremely rewarding listening.