A Musician's Journey: Navigating Jazz, Then and Now

Looking back over the past forty years, it's clear that the world of jazz has changed dramatically. When I was starting out, being a jazz musician meant walking a tightrope. I wanted to innovate and push the music forward, but there was also a strong pull to honor tradition. That same tension exists today, though perhaps less intensely.

It's a tension that matters only if you believe the jazz industry is thriving. But metrics like record sales, club attendance, and fair wages for musicians paint a different picture—a struggling one. Jazz has always been a competitive field, and I've been fortunate to have had more than my share of work. Yet, the infighting—the petty rivalries, jealousies, and tribalism—among musicians, venue managers, and journalists has always been shocking to me. In my naive view, the jazz community should be a supportive family of artists. However, marketing battles and magazine polls have, from the beginning, worked against that idea. At the highest level, there's no such thing as the "best jazz pianist" or a "Top 100." There are only different players with unique skills. In reality, a high-level player's popularity often has more to do with marketing, name recognition, and curated "hits" than with pure talent.

The Push and Pull of Innovation

Sometimes, it feels like even dedicated fans and leaders in the jazz world are resistant to anything that sounds too new. For musicians who play it safe and stick to familiar sounds, this can lead to fading into obscurity. The exception has always been those incredibly gifted players who, from a young age, mastered the classics with flawless technique. That combination of amazing musicality and serious chops still turns heads.

Back when critics held more sway, independent artists who were trying something subtle and not immediately obvious risked being completely misunderstood. Critics might only hear the familiar parts and miss the artist's true intent. This may be why many dedicated musicians—especially those without influential mentors or marketing savvy—never found their footing, even when playing it safe. Further, it helps to be an experimental workshop. Fortunately, I was often surrounded by musicians who loved to listen and experiment.    

The Digital Age and a New Direction

In the early 2000s, my collaborators and I didn't fully grasp how online platforms were affecting our careers. Streaming and internet radio seemed like a great way to get our music out there, but it became an indirect "pay-to-play" system. Smaller labels were swallowed up by huge companies that made deals with these streaming platforms. Most of us didn't have the time, money, or foresight to build a massive social media following, and the algorithms of these platforms only highlighted a tiny fraction of artists. New jazz music, especially if it doesn't have a constant beat or address specific social issues, often gets overlooked. On top of all that, copyright laws don't exactly favor improvisation. We understand it now!

If you should ever listen to my earliest work, you can hear my respect for established jazz styles and their origins. I stretched the boundaries of jazz piano in familiar ways, but I wasn't one for radical new ideas or flashy technical displays—at least not overtly. Yet, I’ve always had my own unique musical voice, working from complex rhythmic and harmonic concepts, and an attitude of acceptance of what actually is, but I was disciplined enough to understate innovation and flashy technique. I've always viewed "showing off" as tasteless, especially compared to younger, conservatory-trained pianists who flaunted their intricate conceptions.

Now, as I move forward, I want to keep celebrating the history of jazz while also nurturing and sharing the personal musical ideas I've kept in the background for so long. I know this isn't for commercial reasons in today's music scene, but I have to ask myself, "Why not?"

I am grateful for everything I've learned and experienced in the world of jazz. So, I look forward to "stirring my seasoned pots with abandon," serving my new creations to a small but dedicated audience. This is the world of art. The larger question is, "What is Art?" And it's a question we should keep trying to answer. I already understand that the answer is neither black nor white.