Photo courtesy of the Doctor, himself.

The nearly four decade career of pioneering organist Dr. Lonnie Smith has branched to the tune of a newly formed nonet, featuring a mix of both well established and quickly rising jazz talents. The “little big band” barely made it onto the Jazz Standard’s sizeable stage (Aug. 4-7), prompting several brass and percussion members to park themselves at a nose’s length of front-seated folks—perhaps a slight foreshadowing to the band’s explosive sound to come. Dr. Lonnie’s collaborators took a backseat during the concert’s first few minutes, giving him the clear to go to town on his Hammond B-3 organ. Maintaining his signature sage-like presence, he blared chunky chord after the other on a sixties-era composition, quickly rising to electric astringency.

The nonet missed the “organ band” title by a long shot despite Dr. Lonnie’s initial command, fully blossoming over to a conglomerated sound early in the set. Dr. Lonnie ebbed and flowed his funky twangs with harmonious tact, intertwining with a succession of solos ranging from classic and aged to uncannily experimental. Trumpeter Keyon Harrold pioneered both worlds in an extended brass tangent, vigorously propelled by circular breathing, reaching extents of piercing acerbity and lush warmth. Logan Richardson on tenor sax countered with a more measured approach leaning on the side of buttery, brewing smoothness.

Song choice progressed in an increasingly charged direction, delving from the playfully romantic, acid jazz feel of “Too Damn Hot” into darker material. An instrumentally complex political tune bore much of the concert’s dark weight. John Ellis traded his tenor sax for bass clarinet in an ominous solo, further made eerie by Jamire Williams’ military march drum reps. Dr. Lonnie didn’t completely abandon his vivacious tang, closing the tune with a gentler funk guided along by guitarist Jonathan Kreisberg’s steamy, thread-thin strums.

A Middle Eastern-tinged number returned the band slightly back to its original looseness. Tubist Max Seigel blurted out some low notes to settle in the back ear, excellently accenting the band’s rich brass-percussion unison. Echoing both homey soul and mystic spirituality, the piece was an appropriately simmering clincher to a set driven by dynamic sound.

UPDATED, 10/3:  A previous version of this review incorrectly identified  guitarist Jonathan Kreisberg as Jason McClanahan.  It has been corrected here.