Sandra Wright, Vermont’s “blues diva,” has wowed countless fans with her big voice — so powerful a microphone is almost superfluous. But even some longtime fans might be surprised by the delicate seduction with which she delivers jazz standards on the new After Hours. The nine-track disc was recently recorded and produced at Blue Minute Studios by Michael Sucher; the Montpelier pianist also plays here and is a member of Wright’s lineup. So is the mellifluous bassist John Harris, and the band’s former drummer Lloyd Herrman returns for these sessions as well. Big Joe Burrell is the special guest, and his saxophone accompaniment to Wright’s voice is nothing short of spectacular. As the liner notes accurately suggest, “After Hours… is an affectionate musical dialogue between two old friends and jazz greats.”

It is the task of classic-jazz performers to demonstrate why the oldies are still “standard” fare, and to make them sound fresh. Wright and company do just that, amply verifying that the 1920s through ’40s was a golden age of songwriting in America. Burrell, who just turned 80, launched his musical career in that period, and his easy familiarity with these tunes allows him to greet them like old friends, slurring and sliding his way around great melodies while honoring their essence.The disc’s opener, “Lover Man,” immediately conjures a string of “s” words: slow, soft, sultry, smoky, sensual. This achingly melancholy tune is rainy-night jazz at its finest. Burrell’s innovative accents sound sympathetic to Wright’s lyrical lament; both simmer with restrained passion. The band then switches mood abruptly with a swinging rendition of Rodgers/Hart’s “The Lady Is a Tramp.” Sucher’s piano work sparkles; Burrell’s sax is lively and light. Harris’ nimble bass and Herrman’s frisky brush action anchor this romp and are perfectly mixed.

After Hours continues in this vein: alternating slower, bluesier songs such as Ray Charles’ “Funny (But I Still Love You)” with jauntier ones such as “Bye, Bye Blackbird.” Burrell breathes new life into the 1924 chestnut “It Had to Be You,” accenting the dance on his instrument’s upper register with a sassy squeak. Sucher’s piano embellishment gives the well-known melody a suitably Tin Pan Alley feel.

On the Gershwins’ “The Man I Love,” Wright’s voice is rich and confident, even if the lyrics express lonely wishful thinking. The accompanying sax work is dreamy. It’s remarkable how a song at this barely moving pace can be so… moving. Wright ends the disc - all too soon - with “Sunday Kind of Love,” a bluesy ballad that calls for her gospel-inflected prowess on both high notes and dusky, sexy low ones. The song simply pours out, liquid in its yearning.

These tracks were nailed in just one or two takes, and the sound is warm and intimate. Clearly Wright and band were “in the zone” for After Hours; their performances seem as effortless as they are flawless. Fans of classic jazz couldn’t ask for more - except to hear it live.