Even though the Auburn native is best known as an electric rock guitarist long paired with Skaneateles singer Joe Whiting in groups such as Jukin' Bone, Free Will and the Doyle-Whiting All-Stars, he possesses a purebred jazz pedigree. By playing keyboard for much of last year with Lush Life--a jazz trio also featuring vocalist John Frantz and bassist John Dancks--Doyle has followed in the footsteps of his late father, jazz pianist and arranger Bobby Doyle.

Although he has performed in the big leagues of pop music--notably as guitarist for Meat Loaf and as string arranger and associate producer for New Kids on the Block--Doyle has also toiled tirelessly on the local level, either producing or performing for regional acts as disparate as rootsy blues-belter Kim Lembo and Top 40-style balladeer Kim Fetters.

Over the last 15 years or so, Doyle has also produced albums for the blues band the Kingsnakes as well as tracks for guitarist Ron DeRollo's pop band Taboo. Meanwhile, Doyle has pioneered the local use of direct-to-digital studio technology and the new High Definition Compatible Digital (HDCD) recording process.

On his new all-instrumental disc, Doyle draws from all corners of his deep and varied wealth of experience, acting as guitarist, keyboardist, arranger and producer. Two full years in the making, Guitar Noir is worth every second of the wait; after all, as with a great Hitchcock film, suspense only adds to the experience. The disc's 12 tracks--cleverly aligned around a film noir theme--actually crackle with the sound of vinyl scratches and soar with searing guitar lines and swelling Hammond B-3 parts.

Although electric-guitar fans will get a jolt out of Guitar Noir, rockers may be disappointed as Doyle thoroughly indulges his affinity for jazz and even show tunes. For instance, he juxtaposes the Wes Montgomery-like licks of Dave Grusin's "Sarah Jane" with the bluesy guitar antiphony of Gimbel and Mancini's "Slow Hot Wind." This devil-may-care set list subtly emphasizes the dark side of life, which is, of course, the album's unifying motif, as visually reflected in Michelle Gabel's appropriately shadowy photography on the album jacket.

Doyle kicks off the album with the familiar strains of the "Perry Mason Theme," from the long-running CBS-TV courtroom drama. In other, less experienced, hands such material might sound contrived or even corny, but Doyle's deft arrangement and crafty instrumental work--on guitar, piano, Wurlitzer organ, Clavioline and bass, no less--all come together to imbue the old TV theme with a renewed sense of foreboding. Lee de Las Casas' also adds to the eerie ambience with his theremin, a musical instrument (recently revived by Cherry Poppin' Daddies) that generates a tone controlled by the distance between the player's hands and two metal antennae. Yes, the theremin's weird, but it works well here (probably better than it does on "Zoot Suit Riot").

Doyle's tremelo-laden electric guitar lead on "Perry Mason," played over Jimmy Johns' drums and Phil Broikos' drum loops, may be--ironically--the most rock-oriented music on the disc. It's rivaled only by Doyle's slow but stinging lead on Bronislau Kaper's "Invitation," from the 1952 film of the same title. Percussionists Johns and Broikos appear throughout Guitar Noir, and Doyle's Cambridge compadre Richard Mendelson also adds drum loops to four tracks, including "Invitation."

Cellist Paul Brantley embellishes five tracks with his tasteful, contrapuntal bowing, especially evident on Ornette Coleman's "Lonely Woman" and Thelonious Monk's "Pannonica." Brantley's cello acts like a lower-register voice answering Doyle's guitar inquisitions on those two songs as well as on "Wild Is the Wind." That tune, the title song from a 1957 Anthony Quinn film, was originally a hit for Johnny Mathis.

Several Guitar Noir tracks prove that basics are best, with simple but supple trio performances: Doyle on guitar and keys, along with upright bassist Darryl Pugh and trap setter Jimmy Johns. The jazz standard "When I Fall in Love" benefits from this collaboration as does "Sarah Jane" and the languid and lovely "Spring Is Here" by Rodgers and Hart. On the Beach Boy's tune, "Warmth of the Sun," Doyle plays the bass part himself as Johns excels with his mid-tempo heat strokes, especially on the snare, while Doyle jumps between streamlined single note leads and world-wise wah-wah effects.

"The Way We Were," culled from the 1973 Barbra Streisand-Robert Redford film of the same name, is another tune often tending toward sentimental slop. Here, it comes off as authentic emotion. It's the disc's only truly solo track, in which Doyle plays inspired guitar over his own understated keyboard washes.

The CD's title track, the only Doyle original among the dozen cuts, stands out as one of the best. While Mendelson programs a relentless hammer-like drum loop and atmospheric vinyl LP scratches, Doyle lays down a Duane Eddy-style low-string lead, all dripping in a murky minor key. He swiftly shifts to a strumming sound, adding high-end dynamics while a high-pitched whistle sounds in the distance, and the Moog bass pushes the arrangement toward its diabolical denouement.

By fearlessly venturing into musical territory that is surely foreign to many of his peers, Doyle has notched an impressive artistic achievement. Guitar Noir is not just another line on his already bulging resume, but a heartfelt tribute to the stylistics of the movie and TV music that makes up the soundtrack of our lives.

One of the best measures of any artist is how well he or she allows the audience to see with new eyes and to hear with new ears that which has always been around us. Guitar Noir does all that and more but, even as good as it is, it surely faces an uphill battle to find an audience. Radio probably won't play it--even with its technical perfection and world-class performances--because Guitar Noir fails to fit a format. Nor is Doyle likely to put a combo together to showcase the material, except perhaps for the occasional in-store appearance.

Nevertheless, Guitar Noir deserves an audience: Audiophiles, guitar aficionados, jazz fans and even film buffs owe it to themselves to discover Doyle's deeper, darker side.