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Jason Marsalis’ Eager Curiosity Drives the Constant Student

by Geraldine Wyckoff
offBeat Magazine
November 1, 2014

When drummer/vibraphonist Jason Marsalis and his brother, trombonist Delfeayo, met with noted journalist and musician Leonard Feather in 1992 to participate in a “Before & After” article for JazzTimes magazine, the two knowledgeable musicians were more than ready for the challenge: Name the artist heard performing a selection of Feather’s choice.

Jason Marsalis, Photo by Elsa Hahne, OffBeat Magazine, November 2014“This is how the test started,” Jason recalls, smiling at the memory. “He said, ‘Okay, here we go,’ and presses the play button and in two seconds I turned to Delfeayo and said, ‘That’s the late Art Blakey, you know that, right?’ Leonard Feather was very surprised by that. Then Delfeayo and I were trying to figure out who was in the band—that was our whole thing.”

Those who remember reading the article know that Jason and Delfeayo nailed every tune and artist that Feather presented. That Jason jumped in so quickly doesn’t come as a surprise to those who know him and have followed his career as a drummer, vibraphonist, composer and producer. He’s a constant student with an eager curiosity to absorb all there is to know about the music and particularly about the jazz musicians who came before.

Marsalis is quite emphatic when it comes to the importance of looking back to the masters in order to really play jazz as it should be played. He frowns a bit on those artists who don’t do their homework.

“I feel to get to write the best music that you can, the more music that you study and the more possibilities that you are aware of, give you the knowledge that you can create anything you want to create,” Marsalis explains. “Let’s say you have a musician who is influenced by Wynton’s [his brother, trumpeter Wynton Marsalis] first quintet but they’re not studying Miles’ [trumpeter Miles Davis] second quintet or John Coltrane’s quartet. They fall short. I’ve always been interested in what it is that the musicians checked out. To me, that’s how you get to the greater substance.”

Marsalis’ formidable knowledge can also be attributed to being a member of the musical Marsalis family. As the son of pianist and educator Ellis Marsalis and the brother of saxophonist Branford, Wynton and Delfeayo, music, and particularly jazz, has always been central to his everyday life. Jason also had access to an in-house demonstration on the discipline that is required to play jazz.

“Everybody, at the end of the day, is serious about their craft and they believe in getting to the substance of the music, or whatever they’re trying to do,” Marsalis explains. “I think that comes from my father, because he has a holistic view of music and life. There were definitely words about the importance of practice and of being thorough.”

Marsalis chuckles a bit when he adds that his father always comes forth with a lot of sayings and offers a few examples. “He always says, ‘There are those who have a view of the world and those who have a world view.’ Oh and also, ‘There are those who do know, there are those that don’t know, and there are those who don’t know there is something to know.’”

Marsalis, 37, began his musical journey at age seven studying classical violin. He’s quick to point out, however, that he was “reading classical music, not playing classical music. I wasn’t interpreting Bach’s music—I didn’t understand its importance.”

He did bang on a toy drum set when he was three and a few years later graduated to a legit set and began studying with New Orleans master-drummer James Black, who regularly played with his father. Because Marsalis was so young, his primary memory of the experience was Black recommending for him to read Stick Control, a book that Jason now calls “the bible of drum books.” Black’s lessons ended when the Marsalis family moved to Virginia in 1987 and didn’t move back to New Orleans until 1989. Black died on August 30, 1988.

Regulars at Snug Harbor remember Marsalis napping with his head on his mother Dolores Marsalis’ lap during his father’s gigs and then jumping excitedly to the stage when Ellis invited him to sit in. By 1984, he was already playing regularly with his dad as well in his brother Delfeayo’s band. The year 1992 marked his first recording appearances, performing on Delfeayo’s outstanding Pontius Pilate’s Decision, followed shortly thereafter on Ellis’ solid Heart of Gold.

An important development in Marsalis’ career came in 1995, when he began working with pianist Marcus Roberts, who had previously played in Wynton’s band. Jason’s drums are heard recording with Roberts for the first time on the pianist’s 1996 album, Portraits in Blue.

Marcus was very interested in presenting that jazz trio in a different way—he wanted to feature everybody,” says Marsalis, who continues to perform and record with Roberts. “That’s why I stayed with him so long. One of the things I’ve learned from him is about the use of space in music. I’ve learned, in a different way, of how to let the music take over.”

His desire to intensify his work with Roberts and be available to tour with him led to Marsalis leaving the very successful Los Hombres Calientes, a band he co-led with percussionist Bill Summers and trumpeter Irvin Mayfield. Marsalis, who in 1998 and 2000 performed on two albums with the group, credits Summers for his first introduction to the “details” of African and Afro-Cuban music. It was in 1998 that Marsalis put out his first album under his own name, Year of the Drummer, which, like the Los Hombres’ albums and his next three solo endeavors, were released on Basin Street Records.

Marsalis is at the top of his game on his new album, The 21st Century Trad Band, as a vibraphonist and composer. He digs into his deep wealth of musical knowledge to produce a fresh sound with deep roots. Like the rest of his musically talented family, Marsalis has strong opinions and shares them here.

The title of your new album, The 21st Century Trad Band, is rather unusual and, considering the music, could be misleading to those who might interpret it as performing New Orleans traditional jazz material in a modern way. That actually is not quite the case.

It’s really inspired, honestly, by a lot of debate that people have had over the music for the last 30 years—maybe even longer than that. I think that it is about this whole idea of people who talk about moving music forward. What they say is that it is important to move forward; you must never look back. I think it’s possible to do both things. I don’t think one is mutually exclusive from the other.

From my experience, [that philosophy] really intensified in the 1980s, following the jazz-fusion period, when you had musicians who wanted to deal with more swing and acoustic music. Then you had those, especially coming out of fusion, who hated that. Their criticism of it was interesting because they felt this was moving backwards. I even heard one person complain, saying, ‘In the ’70s, those musicians had their eyes on the future. Everything was great until you young lions came and messed it all up. It was fine until y’all showed up.’”

If you’re from a place that has its own music—whether it’s New Orleans or Brazil—you believe in passing the traditions on. And you then believe in what you can do new with those traditions. Other places that may not have their own folk music, so to speak, then the conversation is, “What’s the next thing?” I think any debate about music is about that.

The album art is really fun with the depiction of all you guys as superheroes. It reminded me of Wayne Shorter saying that he had all these action figures in his studio—a hilarious image. How did y’all decide on that?

The drummer in my group, David Potter, was offering these suggestions about what the next record cover should be. He said, “Yeah, we ought to do a real crazy album cover, maybe something like Branford’s cover for Crazy People Music.” I said, “Yeah, I think maybe I will do something animated, maybe superheroes or something.”

So my wife was asking what we’re going to do about the cover since when the band was in town we didn’t take any photos. I said, “I thought we’d use artwork, have it illustrated or something.” “Are you all going to be superheroes or something?” she asked jokingly. I said, “Yeah, that’s it.”

Your last two albums have been with your Vibes Quartet. Though in New Orleans you lead your quartet, Drums Unlimited, on drums. It appears, at least from this perspective, that you’re getting more national attention as a leader on vibes and as a sideman, particularly with pianist Marcus Roberts, on drums.

That is mostly true. I’d say the difference, though, is mostly that I do have music that I’m writing for a band [the Vibes Quartet]. This album is saying that I have a band now and we have a repertoire of music and you will be hearing from us. I do think with the vibes I am getting more attention, because it is a melodic instrument and also it’s an instrument that’s still rather rare. Next year, that is going to change, because I’m writing the music for a documentary entitled Heirs and it’s music on drums and vibes.

It seems that there are more vibraphonists on the jazz scene. Do you think the instrument that for years many people associated just a few artists, like Lionel Hampton and Milt Jackson, is enjoying a rebirth?

Jason Marsalis, Photo by Elsa Hahne, OffBeat Magazine, November 2014It was 2000 when I decided I needed to start playing vibes—I had the instrument since high school after my father suggested that I take it because mainly I was heading in the direction of studying percussion. When I discovered percussion in classical music, the next year the violin came to an end. What studying classical percussion means is not just snare drum but tympani, triangle …

I was talking to my father [around 2000] and he said, “Have you heard this vibes player from UNO? His name is James Westfall.”

Then I was in Houston and someone told me about this vibes player, Roman Skelkun, who was coming to New Orleans. It went from zero [vibes players] in the city to three in a year.

That told me that, yeah, this instrument is coming back. There has been a national resurgence of those playing the vibes, including people like Stefon Harris, Mike Dillon, Warren Wolf and others.

Let’s talk about your quartet on The 21st Century Trad Band and 2013’s World of Mallets. One thing that stands out is that all of the instruments here are essentially rhythm instruments. What makes that work so well?

I do tend to think rhythmically for all of the instruments when I write. Studying drums and studying rhythms means you can use syncopation and accents in different ways compared to someone who doesn’t. Also, having played drums, I have a better understanding of what to do with the rhythm section or what to tell the drummer.

The 21st Century Trad Band has a very upbeat mood as did last year’s In a World of Mallets. Of course, the most obvious realization of that is your wonderfully quirky tune, “The Man with Two Left Feet,” which you also played with your Drums Unlimited band recently. Is there any explanation why happiness feels so pronounced?

The reason is that I’ve found musicians who want to play the music that I’m playing and who are dedicated to playing it. We were on tour before we did the record—the first one and the second—so the guys are seeing that I’m really into this for the long haul. Also, the guys are hungry. They’re hungry to play and they’re hungry to succeed. That’s why there’s an upbeat sort of aura to the record.

I believe that all moods in music should be captured—happiness, sadness—but the point is that I do have a more upbeat perspective on where things are going with my music and the music in general. There’s a lot to be done. I’ll admit seven or eight years ago I didn’t have that same view. I’ve gotten to see more alternatives here and there.

You tend to quote [putting snippets of other tunes in a song] quite a bit when you play. Your father adds quotes a lot, too, and I noticed that pianist Austin Johnson also does. Decades back, in the ’40s, ’50s and ’60s, quoting was quite popular in jazz, so it’s kind of old school. It often brings a smile.

Yes, there is a good bit of quoting. I think it’s important to do that because you’re playing melodies. It shows that you have a sense of humor and also shows the music that you’re aware of. You’re not just thinking of only playing the correct notes, or the correct harmonies, or the correct chord changes. You’re trying to create music and create melodies. [Quoting was used more back then] because musicians then knew more music and they learned more music. Unfortunately, in my generation, you find musicians don’t learn as much music. A lot of times, they learn what’s on the gig and they don’t learn to become a better musician.

You accomplish many different tonal qualities from the vibes though, as you explained, you did utilize a few “disciplined overdubs” of other instruments to create a “percussion ensemble” effect.

In terms of the sound of the vibraphone, it did take me a while to develop a really pure tone and I’m still working on it. Sound is something that Marcus Roberts and I used to talk about a lot, because that’s very important to him. I remember practicing scales and I was playing really light and I liked the sound. I said, “Okay this is what I need to do.” So I started working on playing relaxed and not hitting the bar as hard—you don’t hear the attack, you hear the tone.

Many New Orleans jazz fans have watched Jason Marsalis, who graduated from the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts (NOCCA) and attended both Loyola University and the Eastern Music Festival, grow from a promising young drummer to a talent to be reckoned with on drums, vibes and as a composer. His skills merge mightily on the adventurous The 21st Century Trad Band, a comprehensive album that pops with spirited virtuosity from, as Jason describes them, all of the “hungry” guys in the band.

Jason believes that his, as well as Marcus Roberts’, continued hungry approach towards the music can be attributed to the belief that “there is a lot of success yet to come. For us, the enthusiasm is still there because there is still something to achieve.”

Currently, Marsalis’ focus is primarily on the Vibes Quartet, though in October he played several dates at Snug with Drums Unlimited that included pianist Johnson and two recent New Orleans transplants that were one-time students at Florida State University. With the usual bounce in his step, Marsalis bounded onto the stage and the group opened with the standard “After You’ve Gone” before heading into some original material. With Marsalis behind the drums, it was up to pianist Johnson to supply the melodic quotes.

A versatile artist, Marsalis is wide open to all music. In recent years, he’s been performing traditional New Orleans jazz more often at meccas of the music like Preservation Hall and Palm Court. He continues to play and record with saxophonist John Ellis’ jocular jazz band, Double Wide, and he stepped back a bit to his classic roots in 2011, when the Marcus Roberts Trio performed George Gershwin’s “Concerto in F” with the Saito Kinen Orchestra.

Marsalis’ encyclopedic brain, which served him so successfully for Leonard Feather’s “Before & After” test, was revealed in the classical genre one day when he stopped into OffBeat Managing Editor Joseph Irrera’s office. They chatted about classical music, as Irrera is a knowledgeable fan. Much to Irrera’s amazement, Marsalis began vocalizing nearly the entire first movement of Mahler’s “Symphony No. 2—The Resurrection,” reproducing all of the orchestra sounds with his voice and smacking his lips for the timpani part.

Marsalis’ head is full of music—be it jazz, classical, or any other genre that is built on a solid foundation of knowledge and played with a hungry spirit. He’s up for the challenge.

Ellis and Jason Marsalis Talk Back

Alex Rawls talks to Ellis and Jason Marsalis about An Open Letter to Thelonious, teaching and traditional jazz. “When you deal with language to describe music, you’ve got a problem,” Ellis says. “I remember talking to a guy who was a player, and he said, ‘I’m really into traditional jazz,’ and he started rhyming off Charlie Parker, Monk, and all these guys.”

by Alex Rawls
offBeat Magazine
April 2008

While we’re talking, Ellis Marsalis takes two calls and ignores another. Spring in New Orleans is a musician’s busiest time, and not only is Marsalis playing the French Quarter Fest and Jazz Fest, but he’s promoting his new album, An Open Letter to Thelonious (ELM). He and Irvin Mayfield also released Love Songs, Ballads and Standards (Basin Street), and today he’s at NOCCA to teach a master class to his son Jason’s students.

An Open Letter to Thelonious is a family affair. Jason plays in Ellis’ quartet, and both contributed liner notes. Ellis recalls the one missed opportunity he had to meet Monk, while Jason analyzes Monk’s sense of rhythm, dubbing him “the first unofficial funk musician.”

We’re in NOCCA’s performance hall, and Jason was talking about his efforts to teach his students to play traditional jazz just before the recorder started. Ellis is talking about his efforts to document traditional jazz that emerged from playing it with a good band.

Ellis: I started to write down all the things we played, each song. I did it over three nights, so I had a pretty good list. I thought about writing out more than a lead sheet, actually the piano accompaniment; now I’m trying to make myself get started on this project. [laughs]

Part of what Jason is talking about is the inability of those who find themselves in a teaching position to get prepared music to present to students from that idiom. The traditional jazz idiom has a lot of music, and it’s structured in such a way that all of the elements of western music are in it—the key signatures, the modulations, the tempo. Now that I’m confessing that [gesturing at the recorder], I’ve got to do it. I don’t think something like that could be done anywhere but New Orleans.

This goes to something I’ve been thinking about for a while—what does it mean to be traditional? How do you best honor a tradition? Does a player have to play in the idiom, or is it in the composition? How is tradition manifested?

Ellis MarsalisEllis: First of all, when you deal with language to describe music, you’ve got a problem. I remember talking to a guy who was a player, and he said, “I’m really into traditional jazz,” and he started rhyming off Charlie Parker, Monk, and all these guys. It’s not his fault if he’s from Detroit or Chicago or L.A. The documentation isn’t set in such a way so that it will allow him to get a complete perspective.

When you think of European art music, the documentation by the various composers over 300, 400 years helps to understand some of that, at least from the 15th Century on. One thing that may be missing is a certain relationship that those composers had to the gypsies. You found references to dances—Hungarian Dance, number this or that or the other. Talk about Rodney Dangerfield, they don’t get no respect! America is a little too young to have that kind of thing happen. If enough of us can start trying to make certain kinds of documentation…

One of the things that was lost in certain kinds of European music—I don’t know how much time after Beethoven—was the ability to improvise. There are stories about when Czerny, who was a student of his, would be turning pages for him and there would be no notes on the page. He hadn’t even written it down. That improvisational process, eventually, they lost.

If it’s still in Europe, maybe it’s over there, but people who learn to play that music here, they go to the conservatory and improvisation isn’t even part of that. I think that as a part of American history, this is a necessary cog in the wheel. I’ve been telling Jason for years, “Whatever you do, write it down. Make some notes.”

I’ve seen some situations where some of the jazz stars have begun to be used in institutions to come in and do workshops. I look at some of them and say, “I don’t want them anywhere near my students.” They play well, but you have to do a certain amount of reflective thinking or what you end up doing is teaching in the abstract, which is why students can’t read, or why they can’t do math.

There are some things we have to do to assist in that process.

Thankfully, there are enough recordings of the earlier music by some of the top players so that can be a great reference point.

I would have to think that over the years, you’ve heard people play traditional jazz and get it wrong.

Ellis: I was one of them. I stood in the driveway with Albert “Papa” French, who played with “Papa” Celestin, and had his own band with his sons, Bob and John. Papa French, said, “Some of you young guys need to play this music because we’re about to lose it.” I said, “Yeah, man. You’re right.”

In my mind, I was thinking, “I don’t want to play that old stuff.” That degree of ignorance was profound with me. Eventually, I’m playing with the Storyville Jazz Band, which is Bob French’s group, at Crazy Shirley’s on St. Peter and Bourbon in the early 1970s—so I wasn’t a spring chicken. I started playing a stride solo and everybody in the band started to laugh. I didn’t know why they were laughing because I was serious. I wasn’t trying to caricature the music. I tried it again and got the same response.

I started to do some research. I went and really listened to Jelly Roll and Willie “the Lion” Smith. I realized these guys have ideas peculiar to this style of music. If you’re going to play this, you’ve got to be involved with those ideas—the rhythm of the ideas, the melody, and all of that. I started working on that. The next time I played a stride solo, I didn’t get the same response, and I realized I was on the right track.

Right around the corner from Crazy Shirley’s was Preservation Hall, and Willie Humphrey and Percy and them would come by on the way to work. Some of those old guys came in one night while I was playing one of those solos, and the guy looks and goes, “Mmmm hmmm, okay,” and I knew just from that gesture that I was on the right track.

Let’s jump forward to the Monk record. I’m always fascinated when a musician approaches another musician’s work. How do you decide which pieces to do?

Ellis: Well in this particular case, Jason was sort of the brains behind most of that. The idea was to approach Monk’s music with a certain kind of groove without tarnishing what Monk had put there. I went through a similar thing with Marcus Roberts, which was a dual-piano thing. We did one or two pieces of Thelonious Monk, and Marcus would say that we have to be very careful that we don’t superimpose our stuff on top of Monk.

We have been talking about doing a Monk record for a long time. Monk’s music is not easy to play and the degree of difficulty is less in technical facility and more in conceptualization of where he was coming from. A lot of what you have to listen to determines the results of what you play.

Jason MarsalisJason: The best description that I read of that was from Orrin Keepnews—and this really put a lot of perspective for me on Monk’s music—he said, “You know, it’s kind of like when you are at a jam session and musicians start playing ‘Blue Monk.’ They solo for about 20 minutes, then they look around and say, ‘What’s the big deal about Monk?'”

There is an essence of Monk’s music in terms of melodic, rhythmic and harmonic formation that should not be taken for granted. It’s easy to take a Monk tune and play over it, but it’s different when you try to play the music and still have the essence of what he was about still there. That’s the challenge when trying to play his music.

The rhythm element is what drew me to Monk first. How he phrased lines. Even inside the phrases, exactly where the notes fell always felt so personal and idiosyncratic.

Jason: He was definitely a master at using rhythm and space. I noticed with his own tunes just how strong the rhythm would be in those melodies.

Who was responsible for the selection of the pieces?

Jason: It was a combination of both. My father brought up the idea of doing a Monk record a while back. I believe what got the ball rolling was when we played this one quartet performance with “Epistrophy.” We played it in a way that was arranged slightly, very subtly. I liked the way it went, and I started thinking maybe we should pursue this album. There were some things that I picked and some things that my father picked.

Was there anything you decided was too him to do, or requires us to move too far, or just did not want to do?

Ellis: Nothing that I can think of. I think what we did on that CD is a pretty fair representation of Monk, in a wider sense. We did “Crepuscule with Nellie”—I wouldn’t even know how to solo off of that. I did decide to do “‘Round Midnight,” but I decided to do that as a piano solo. I messed with that tune and I even thought of forming a string quartet of that tune a long time ago, and I did not get too far.

I think Jason mentioned it in the liner notes about the grooves. There is a story going around about Monk—a guy, a drummer I think, and he was kind of new to Monk’s music. He asked Monk, “What do you want me to do?” Monk said, “Swing.” The guy said, “I understand that, but after that, what then?” “Swing some more.”

So you had the idea of applying specific grooves to Monk?

Jason: The only tune on there, honestly, that I really wanted to do was a tune called “Teo.” A few years ago I heard a recording of this tune on Live at the It Club, and I was first interested in it because I never heard it. No one ever plays it. Monk has written hundreds of tunes and there are a lot of tunes that have slipped through the cracks and are not played very much. I checked it out and I think, okay this isn’t bad, but after eight bars I started hearing a funk groove. So when we decided to do the record, I said this is one tune we have to do.

I recently rehearsed that with some students from here, and I think that my description may have confused the drummer a little bit. I said, “Think Monk and the Roots’ drummer Questlove and the stuff he does with DeAngelo.” I think that threw him off, but really, rhythmically you can do that with a lot of Monk’s tunes.

You talked about playing Monk with Marcus Roberts; he said we have to be careful not to put ourselves all over this. Isn’t part of the business of playing it to find how you interact with that person’s work?

Ellis: Yeah, but I think what Marcus is saying when in reference to the term “superimposed” is that, like I’ve heard this one pianist who did a Bud Powell tune called “Hallucinations.” When the solo came, there was no harmonic reference to “Hallucinations” at all. It was all about whoever this pianist was and his stuff. You can make an argument for that saying that’s what jazz does, and it’s true, but if you approach what you’re doing philosophically, you try and do the best that you can with the melody, the harmony, and the rhythm. Those three components.

I remember once Tommy Flanagan told me something. I was in Europe at one of those festivals, and it always leaves you wanting to play. You go over there, you do 45 minutes then you’re done. There was a space under the hotel in which there was a piano against the wall, and I went over to the piano because I felt like playing more than the 45 minutes. I started playing “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square,” just fooling around with it. When I finished, I saw Tommy was sitting over there against the wall, and I got up to go and speak to him. As I got close to him, he said, “You forgot the verse.” I don’t think I even knew there was a verse, so I went home and got the music and there was the verse. I recorded it again with the verse.

I think there is a certain amount of specificity that is necessary from where I am coming from philosophically. Coltrane was guilty of this all the time; he didn’t care much about the melody. He played it however it came out. You owe the composer of the tune, whether it’s Richard Rogers or Jobim. If you are going to play the melody, play the melody. Then when you get ready to solo, that’s on you.

Jason Marsalis’s T.O. headlining debut

Career delayed by Hurricane Katrina, brother Jason back on track with vibes, drums

by Ashante Infantry
Toronto Star
January 10, 2008

His home only suffered minor damage, but 2005’s Hurricane Katrina had a more consequential impact on Jason Marsalis’s career.

The drummer-vibist, the youngest of the four performing Marsalis brothers, had big plans that fall for the record label he runs with his pianist-educator dad.

“He was going to put a record out, I was going to come out with something; Katrina just wiped all that out,” said Marsalis, 30, in a recent phone interview from his renovated New Orleans home.

Even if the devastating storm hadn’t uprooted them – Marsalis to Jacksonville, Fla., then New York, his parents to Baton Rouge, La. – and focused their attention and finances elsewhere, recording just wasn’t feasible.

“Musicians and engineers that I was going to use, they were all over the place. The studio we used to record at was gone. Fortunately, none of the music got lost, but that kind of delayed things for a few years.”

With only a couple CDs under his own name, Marsalis, who has proven an adept sideman, accompanying the likes of pianist Marcus Roberts, saxist John Ellis and trombonist brother Delfeayo, makes his Toronto headlining debut at Trane Studio tomorrow night to kick off the inaugural Fair Trade Organic Coffee Jazz Concert Series.

The musician, who teaches fulltime at the renowned New Orleans Center for Creative Arts, began playing drums professionally at 14 and has also been performing on vibes since 2000.

“It was actually my father’s idea to explore it, because it was melodic percussion. It’s a very challenging instrument. If you miss one note it sticks out a lot more than any other instrument.”

He’ll play two separate Toronto shows, one on drums, the other on vibes, in sets comprised of standards and originals.

“One of the things I’m going to try to develop over time is music that has not been played on vibes, but sounds great on the instrument,” he said, citing compositions by drummer Winard Harper and a Brazilian musician.

The Crescent City resident credits his hometown for nurturing his musical explorations.
“In New Orleans, I could just start doing a gig every Monday and this is when I was not good at all. I could just do a gig at a small place on a Monday night with not a lot of publicity, no major reviews … just start playing, and then after while I started gigging with other people in the city.”

He describes a small, vibrant music enclave that he’s never felt the need to decamp for bigger parts to benefit his music or career.

“There was always a lot of opportunity in New Orleans for me. Plus, I was already travelling a lot anyway, so I was never interested in living somewhere else,” he says.

“I’m going to be honest, and this is probably controversial, but someone needs to say it: Really, New York being the big time as far as jazz music is concerned is actually over, because the major labels aren’t signing jazz and a lot of the jazz legends that were in New York, unfortunately, have died off now.

“It’s a great city and there’s a lot of music, but it’s not what it used to be. Ironically enough though, New Orleans is a better learning town. The community is a little smaller and it’s easier to get around and there’s other music that you can learn, like a lot of the traditional jazz music, R&B, Brazilian and Afro-Cuban music. Those kinds of things go on here. New Orleans has always been a great learning town.”