Jazz grew up as an American art form, and has been described by William Taylor (among others) as “America’s classical music.” I’ve never been comfortable with that label, mostly because it has worn out its usefulness. The music has been out of popular and commercial favor since the late 1950s, and is now, if anything, more popular in places like Europe and Israel than in the nation where it was born. This is no problem, mostly because jazz is flexible enough to incorporate almost any musical tradition.

Growing up in Switzerland and moving to Japan when he turned 19, saxophonist Sohreb Saadat Ladjevardi’s family originated in Iran, and it is to that country that he turns for inspiration for his debut under the name SoSoLa, entitled “Nu World Trash.” Drawing material from the Green Revolution of 2009, he has crafted an acutely political record that burns bright and leaves an unmistakable impression on the listener.

When the albums starts, you are introduced to two of the album’s main pillars: the excellent percussion provided by drummer Swiss Chris who, accompanied by two bassists, forms a rhythm section with serious chops, giving the album the intense drive that it needs to be more than hollow protest. Accompanying this rhythm section and the lead saxophone is a small army of instrumentalists playing fiery trumpets, psychedelic electric guitars and more than a few more traditional Iranian instruments. Most of the time, the large band does not opt for cacophony but instead builds on Middle Eastern traditions of improvised music and melody. “Nu World Trash” is anything but quiet, but the moments of unstructured noise and atmosphere do not predominate but serve instead as accents.

Ladjevardi’s confrontational approach not only permeates the subject matter he chooses, but his actual playing as well. His saxophone is an instrument of rage and embittered humor. It is not always scathing, but the energy fueling the entire record springs from righteous anger. On the third track, “Welcome New Iran,” he solos over recorded samples of what sound like protests, as men holler over loudspeakers and his percussionists and bassist add tension to the proceedings. Ladjevardi seems to be answering the crowds, both in Farsi and English, and aligning himself with their cause. All of this would be for naught if the music was uninteresting, and artists who take such strong political stances risk coming off as self-righteous and a drag. Fortunately, “Welcome New Iran” and other more somber tracks like “Sad Sake” are counterbalanced by more humorous pieces.

Many languages, voices and instruments are featured here, and what ties them together is a sense of urban adventure. Ladjevardi draws on his experiences with Iran, yes, but also Japan and the United States, making the album look more and more like a work of personal introspection as it goes on. The record is not self-obsessed or sealed inside his head. Instead, it draws on rich national and personal history and uses it for expressive purposes. The expression happens to be highly aggressive at times, but never at the expense of being enjoyable music. It’s an album that was difficult to absorb at first but has come to impress me more and more on repeat listens. Anyone turned off by the political nature of the album would be missing out to at least give it a chance and find the true fire of the album: fantastic performers expressing themselves through some of the most exciting music I’ve heard all year.