As corporate contract disclosures go, there’s no touching the nervous anticipation and international intrigue of the NBA Draft. Reputations are signed and sealed (if not yet delivered); hopes are ignited and fulfilled (if not ruthlessly shattered). Above a tidal undercurrent of projected profit, there’s a sobering and almost noble realization: that the day’s decrees have repercussions not only for these athletes but also for the state and future of the game. In the less cynical moments of this year’s draft -- held on a recent Wednesday at Madison Square Garden Theater -- that feeling was an almost palpable current in the air.

There’s another, increasingly viable option available to jazz players but not basketball stars. Improvising musicians, particularly in the avant-garde, have long adopted an Emersonian self-reliance with regard to recording. Tim Berne, Wayne Krantz, Joe Morris and J. Granelli all run their own labels. Early this year a more mainstream figure, Branford Marsalis, made news by announcing the formation of his own Marsalis Music imprint after nearly two decades on Columbia. (His first self-produced album, Footsteps of Our Fathers, will be distributed by Rounder in August.) Marsalis, by the way, is reportedly more than competent on the courts. (In any case, it’s safe to say that he’d fare better in a pickup game than Kobe would at a jam session.)It’s possible that Branford took his lead from younger bro Jason, a drummer and charter member of the Afro-Latin jazz group Los Hombres Calientes. That ensemble recorded its first album for a scrappy indie label, New Orleans’ Basin Street Records, in 1998. That self-titled debut, and a subsequent release, have now sold somewhere in the vicinity of 20,000 copies apiece -- small peanuts for pop, but a bona fide smash hit in jazz. Los Hombres’ achievement can be explained both by widespread exposure (at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival) and tireless promotion (on the part of Basin Street owner Mark Samuels). And while Marsalis left the band a couple years ago, Los Hombres (co-led by percussionist Bill Summers and trumpeter Irvin Mayfield) still packs a swaggering punch. (Los Hombres Calientes plays Sat., July 13, 7:30 p.m., Kimmel Center, Verizon Hall, 260 S. Broad St., 215-893-1999).Of course, not every artist who taps into the indie pool reaps Los Hombres’ commercial success. But there are other, less tangible rewards. Tim Berne, whose discography includes albums for Columbia, JMT/Polygram and Thirsty Ear, often struggles with the practical demands of running Screwgun Records (out of his Park Slope brownstone). But, says Berne, “When I get an e-mail from someone buying a record, that’s the shit. Then I know: This person’s heard my music. They’re paying for it, they want it. They’re going to get it from me, that’s how badly they want to hear it. That’s like the ultimate. That makes me feel like this is the right thing to do.”

To report a gig -- or any other jazz-related news -- e-mail Nate Chinen at n_chinen@ citypaper.net.