Succeeding Without Jazz

It may be a month early for a review of the year in jazz 2011, but it's clear that the dominant topic—at least during the summer festival months—was the debate over jazz vs. non-jazz programming at festivals.

For at least one festival—the one that is held in my hometown (and, standard full disclosure statement, the one that employed me on contract in 2009 and 2010)—a strong defence in favour of booking non-jazz artists has been made. At its annual general meeting this week, the TD Ottawa International Jazz Festival announced it posted a $162,419 surplus, despite paying 7.2 percent more in performer fees than in 2010. What's more, box office receipts were up 30 percent, to $782,447. The only non-jazz performer who tanked was Elvis Costello, who went onstage outside less than 90 minutes after a massive storm dumped record amounts of rain on the city.

So, for those hoping that headliners like Robert Plant, K.D. Lang and Daniel Lanois' Black Dub will just go away, that's not likely to happen. Cross-subsidization from popular acts like those to high-priced jazz talent like Brad Mehldau is a reality that festivals—and festival-goers—must live with.

Paul Motian, 1931-2011

I can't begin to count the number of recordings I have that feature drummer Paul Motian, who died today at age 80, and I can't think of a disappointing one among them. Not only did he have exceptional taste about who he played with, he lifted every recording by his touch and unique sense of rhythm and colour. Several of the bands he was a member of—including Keith Jarrett's so-called American Quartet and his own trio with Bill Frisell and Joe Lovano—are among the very best jazz groups of the past 50 years.

Despite his long, active career, I never had the chance to meet or interview him, which is a big regret. From what I've heard and read, he was an endlessly fascinating guy.

I do have a favourite memory, though, which relates to his spare style and amazing ability to determine exactly how to fit into a piece of music. In 2002, I saw him play with Marilyn Crispell in San Francisco as part of her trio. I don't have notes from the show, so I can't recall which song it was, but I remember one long, contemplative piece where his accompaniment during one passage consisted of exactly one cymbal strike... and it was perfectly placed. He watched, listened, waiting, and touched the cymbal just once. That was all that was needed, and he knew it; and he had the lack of musical ego to not go beyond that realization.

Vijay Iyer Named As New Banff Director

After 10 years in the position, trumpeter/composer Dave Douglas is passing the leadership of the Banff International Workshop in Jazz & Creative Music to pianist Vijay Iyer. Iyer will participate in the 2012 program under Douglas' direction, and then assume the position in 2013.

Vijay Iyer    by Jimmy Katz

Iyer is a terrific choice, not just for his vision and scope as a composer and instrumentalist, but because he shares with Douglas a joy for collaborating with others and creating a collective voice in a variety of settings.

"After visiting universities, workshops and seminars around the globe, I can say that the workshop at The Banff Centre is among the most intensely focused musical experiences available for young musicians," Douglas was quoted as saying in a media release by the school. "Spending three weeks in Banff with 65 of one's most gifted peers changes lives."

Dave Douglas  by Zoran Orlic

That's certainly the feeling among those I've talked to who have worked with Douglas during his decade leading the program. Every alumnus mentions his creative energy, novel approaches to learning and joy in sharing what he knows. He has also gained a reputation for bringing highly creative compatriots along with him during his annual trek to the mountains, including gifted teacher/performers like pianist Myra Melford and drummer Jerry Granelli.

It is hard to overstate the importance that the Banff program has had on jazz in Canada since its founding by Phil Nimmons and Oscar Peterson in 1974. I've long since lost track of the number of musicians who have told me that their musical paths were altered by encounters with Nimmons, Kenny Wheeler, Dave Holland or Steve Coleman during the years those musicians were in charge of the program. The environment has also helped form lasting musical relationships between participants.

In short, the program is a national treasure in Canada, and while there are some—Nimmons among them, at least at one time—who felt that the leadership should be given to other Canadians like Wheeler, it has benefitted from not being parochial. Not only do stars like Douglas and Iyer help publicize the program around the world, the program maintains its reputation by having musicians at the helm who are breaking new ground in their own music.

Let Us Praise Strays

I know there are people—jazz fans—out there who turn and run when they hear that a band is going to be paying tribute to a long-dead artist whose work has been re-interpreted by dozens of other artists. Those who stayed away from saxophonist Jean Derome's homage to Billy Strayhorn last night—and Quebec City's Largo club was far from full—just don't know Derome, drummer Pierre Tanguay, bassist Normand Guilbeault and pianist François Bourassa. Joined by singer Karen Young on most of material, the band was anything but predictable. Not only did compositions like "Lush Life," "UMMG" and "A Flower Is A Lovesome Thing" not sound like interpretations by contemporaries like Joe Henderson, the  players always maintained their individuality—particularly Derome and Tanguay, two of the most original improvisers I've encountered.

I haven't heard Young sing in person in about 25 years, and it was a treat to be reminded what a fine vocalist she is. Last night, she went deep inside the songs, mining the frustration, loneliness and occasional humour in Strayhorn's lyrics.

Just as Derome and Tanguay, in their Évidence trio, can find interesting ways to express Thelonious Monk's music, this project refracted light in new ways through Strayhorn's music, making you forget previous versions you might have heard. No small feat.

Exploring In Quebec

I'm spending five days at one of my favourite jazz festivals, in Quebec City, and as usual it is opening my ears to artists I don't get a chance to hear elsewhere. Anyone who has explored the jazz scene beyond the main stage shows at the Montreal International Jazz Festival knows the wealth of artists who live and work in the province of Quebec, and this festival showcases many of them.

Last night, I enjoyed the quartet led by bassist Guillaume Bouchard, which features the estimable Michel Côté on tenor sax, and then a free-blowing trio that was dominated by trumpeter Aron Doyle. Originally from British Columbia, Doyle went through McGill University's music program and has been a mainstay in several mainstream-minded bands in Montreal. This is the first time I've heard him play at length, and he is impressive. My DownBeat colleague John Murph heard some Terence Blanchard in his playing, but Doyle also put me in mind of Dave Douglas in his ability to expand melodies without inhibition.

More fun to come; tonight's main show features an all-star Quebec band led by the great Jean Derome, playing the music of Billy Strayhorn.

Top 10 Speculation

Mid-October brings the definitive change of season where I live (even though last weekend—Thanksgiving in Canada—felt like mid-summer) and a reminder that it's time to begin final consideration of the year's Top 10 list of CDs.

Normally, this time would find me with an abundance of choices, but perhaps I've been harsher in winnowing out things as I've marked new arrivals for further consideration. (A word or two about my process: Like many critics I know, I keep a running list of CDs or downloads. When something catches my ear, I'll note it as a contender; my own version of nominating a recording for jury selection. A jury of one.)

At any rate, a quick check this morning informs me that I have 'nominated' eight recordings so far. This would seem to make things quite easy, except that this week brought a bounty of new things (a new Taylor Ho Bynum Sextet recording, for example) for consideration. Lots to listen to, and a tough fight for those remaining two spots; or, in fact, potential to knock some of those already nominated out of the running.

Are there any shoo-ins at this point? Well, it will be tough to deny Sonny Rollins's second Road Shows CD a spot, what with that Ornette Coleman duet and all, and the Marcus Strickland double-CD is very, very strong. There are at least a couple of others that made powerful impressions during the first handful of listens, and I would be surprised if the passage of four or five months will change my opinion, but you never know. In all, there are probably about five recordings that are safe, given that the first requests for locking in a Top 10 will start arriving any day now.

Is there a clear front-runner? Not yet, and I like that. After all, there has to be some suspense; even if it's self-imposed.

Jerry's Kids

I always look forward to the opportunity to hear my friend, drummer Jerry Granelli, play live. Not only is he one of the most creative percussionists of the past 50 years, but he radiates a sense of playfulness about music that is infectious.

Last night, Jerry brought his new trio to Ottawa as part of a national tour in support of his CD Let Go. As he described it, this is a trio he has been not dying to put together. "I've known Danny (Oore) and Simon (Fisk) since they were kids, and just hoping I lived long enough to get to play with them."

As usual, Jerry has a great ear for talent. After leaving Halifax, Fisk was a mainstay for awhile in Vancouver, and then moved to Calgary, and the two have made music together as part of the bassist's own trio. Oore studied with the gifted teacher Don Palmer at Dalhousie University, and has grown into an extraordinary reed player. I last heard him when he was still a student, and his development has been exceptional. Based on what I heard last night, I'd rank him with just about any young saxophonist in improvised music.

The best part of last night's show, however, was the way the trio embodied the album's title. Jerry noted a couple of times that what was being played onstage bore little resemblance to what they did in the studio, and that's just fine with him. He encourages freedom, and both Fisk and Oore take full advantage. In that respect, Jerry always reminds me of something his friend, fellow drummer Joey Baron—he of the eternal goofy smile while playing—once told me. "We take this music very seriously, but we have fun doing it."

At one point, Oore, playing soprano, deconstructed a solo into a line of staccato honks and bleeps. Smiling from behind his drums, Jerry commented, "Let's see you get out of this." Oore responded by deftly navigating the blind alley, and the band was off on another adventure.

Serious fun, for sure.

David Murray's Little Big Bands

Looking back on them, the seven or eight years I spent hosting and producing programs at Canada's oldest campus radio station coincided with one of my favourite periods in music outside of the 1960s. My pop music shows began with the rise of punk and ended with the flowering of some enduring U.S. songwriters. My jazz program, Rabble Without A Cause—co-hosted and memorably named by my friend Don Lahey—was spiced with the rousing music created by artists like Henry Threadgill (Air), Arthur Blythe, Ronald Shannon Jackson, Lester Bowie and Ornette Coleman's Prime Time. Among our favourite, and most frequently featured, musicians was the prolific David Murray.

Murray became legendary for releasing several albums a year, and for the diversity of his bands, but I was always partial to his octet projects, in particular the albums Ming, Home and Murray's Steps. I don't particularly like brassy big bands, and the octet setting—especially when dark-toned instruments like bass clarinet are in the mix—offers a lot of interesting possibilities. Murray seemed a natural for it; using the format to convey both emotion and power. For these recordings he recruited some of the most exciting players on the burgeoning New York City loft scene, including Threadgill, pianist Anthony Davis, drummer Steve McCall, trombonists George Lewis and Craig Harris, and trumpeters Olu Dara and Butch Morris.

Anyone wanting to make the case that the '80s is a treasure trove of great acoustic jazz—and there are many who do—just has to reach for these recordings, and now that's easier to do, thanks to a new box set of all five octet CDs.

Trumpet Lord Hubbard

I wrote the other day that I'm reviewing some DVDs for DownBeat's holiday gift guide, and tonight I had the good fortune to watch Freddie Hubbard in his 1973 prime. With Hubbard's unfortunate decline over the following two decades, the death of Lee Morgan and the aging of Dizzy Gillespie, the aggressive bop-derived (well, Gillespie was bop, but he was playing variations by the '70s) style of trumpet gave way to a softer, more nuanced approach. What a jolt, then, to be reminded of what Hubbard could sound like. Stunning, really.

Watching Hubbard made me wistful, like watching Willie Mays, Bobby Hull or Jim Brown in their prime and wishing you could freeze them as you wish to remember them—young, strong and beautiful. The sports analogies are apt, because Hubbard was such a physical player, and the ravages of the years—and his admitted excesses—were akin to the toll sports took on the knees of Mays, Bobby Orr and Joe Namath.

We were all young once, but only the blessed few got to burn like Freddie.

Canada's Cloudless Sky

Those who know me have heard my rant about how Canadians are falling further and further behind in the Digital Age, particularly where music is involved.

Now, as the release of Apple's iOS 5 and iCloud approaches, an asterisk on the apple.ca page tells the tale: iTunes in the Cloud will not be available in Canada.

Like Pandora, Hulu, Spotify, and numerous other streaming media services, iTunes in the Cloud violates various antiquated licensing and copyright regulations that "protect" Canadian cultural creators. Well, creators, face the facts: Your art is not reaching the ears of those most likely to buy your art to the extent it could. And, as digital services like iTunes continue to beat traditional bricks-and-mortar music retailers into the dust, you are being increasingly handcuffed. If the federal government cuts the $1 billion levy that flows to the CBC, your music is going to be all but unheard.

Meanwhile, the Canadian government is more concerned about increasing the mandatory jail time for petty criminals.

The federal government preaches loud and proud about the health of Canada's economy, but it is ensuring that our digital economy remains on the sidelines while other countries race ahead.

Iconic Moments

I'm reviewing a number of DVDs for DownBeat's holiday gift guide, and have been very impressed by the four-DVD set Icons Among Us, a series produced in conjunction with The Documentary Channel. The set includes extensive educational materials, but the primary features are interviews and performances by a number of contemporary artists, ranging from Wayne Shorter at the older end to Aaron Parks and Jamie Cullum.

It reminds me of some series I recall from the 1970s, which tried to put jazz in a contemporary and historical context, but this one really nails it through the depth and breadth of its interviews, and by the scope of the artists who are involved.

There's some good drama, too, such as the point/counterpoint of Wynton Marsalis and John Medeski, and some touching moments with Donald Harrison, Jr., re-building his home in New Orleans, and onstage with Esbjörn Svensson just prior to his drowning death.

Watch for my full review, but this is highly recommended.

A Story: Miles vs. Trane

Writing about Miles Davis from the 1960s and John Coltrane has put me in mind of a great story I heard at one of the Miles Davis conferences that scholar Gerald Early convened in the mid-'90s. Apologies to the presenter who shared it; it was a first-person account, and I can't recall his name.

This presenter—a black American who had been a teenager in the mid-'60s—recalled the essential difference between attending a Davis show at a club and seeing Trane live.

For Davis, he recalled, he scanned the latest copies of Esquire and Down Beat, hoping for a recent photo of the trumpeter so he could intuit what Davis was wearing lately. If you went to a Miles show in the neighbourhood, you wanted to dress well, approximating the Italian-cut suits that the musician favoured at the time, but not wanting to miss out on subtle changes: pinstripes or herringbone, slim lapels or double-breasted.

For Trane, he said, you wore coveralls, because you knew that chances were high that if you sat anywhere in the proximity of the quartet in a small club you would finish the evening covered in Trane's saliva and slivers of Elvin Jones' shattered drumsticks.

Happy 85th Trane

Eighty-five years after his birth, and sadly, 44 years since his untimely death, John Coltrane stands as a towering figure in the history of Western music.

Nice to see him getting such a high profile around social media today, but remember to celebrate and recognize all of his work, not just the (relatively) easy stuff. The man was as much "Kulu Se Mama" and "Om" as "Giant Steps" and "My Favorite Things."

From my personal perspective, I can't imagine my life without A Love Supreme. Hearing Trane for the first time changed me profoundly. How many musicians can you say that about?

Jimi and Miles On Fire

When you have kids you learn to tread lightly on the "in my day" theme. I resented it when my father told me that the artists I idolized in the 1960s couldn't hold a candle to Benny Goodman and Frank Sinatra, so why lord Jimi Hendrix and Cream over my kids' infatuation with Nirvana, et.al. Also, I'm absolutely a "glass half full" kind of guy, so I root for the possibility that artists half my age will develop long and fruitful careers. I relish the (few) times when I've made a good call, such as my early championing of trumpeter Dave Douglas. When an artist like Vijay Iyer or Jason Moran emerges, I'm delighted.

I also have a good friend, Alan Stanbridge—an academic at the University of Toronto—who writes and lectures passionately and persuasively about the folly of professing a "golden age" for any artform. So, again, I tread carefully; he makes that good an argument.

Setting all that aside, I have to say that the two box sets I've been listening to this week make an equally good case that the late '60s produced some of the best popular music in the history of recordings.

I had never bothered to pick up the various bootleg versions of Hendrix's 1968 concerts at San Francisco's Winterland, although the guitarist's music dominated my listening for the better part of a decade. There was too much good stuff of his to get through without dealing with high prices and dodgy sound, I figured. So, I welcomed the official release of three complete concerts from his Winterland stand, as part of Sony Legacy's work with the Hendrix estate.

Being a longtime Hendrix fan, I figure I know what to expect from him, but the Winterland recordings have thrilled me with the energy that Hendrix brought to that stage and the joy with which he was exploring new possibilities on his guitar. We all know how quickly and depressingly the story turned, but at that point in time anything seemed possible.

Miles Davis' live concerts from 1967 are recordings I've pursued and collected, but it has been a decade or so since I've spent much time listening to them. That heightens the experience of hearing those concerts, and a previously unheard one from Copenhagen, collected in one set (Sony Legacy again). The elasticity and risk-taking inherent in Davis' quintet of the day—with, need I write it, Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Tony Williams—are stunning, electrifying. To watch them interact, on a previously issued, but unseen in its entirety by me, DVD is even better. In particular, watching Williams create waves of sound from a bare drum kit is akin to the first time I watched the Hendrix at Woodstock video and realized that a passage that I had listened to a hundred or so times was played with utter nonchalance.

Pulling these two recorded documents together, of course, is the fact that Davis was checking out Hendrix around the time of those Winterland concerts, and planning his next move, into the music that became Jack Johnson and Bitches Brew.

I was too unaware and poorly connected to catch Hendrix on that '68 tour (his sole Ottawa date has also been issued on CD) and never had a chance to see Davis live prior to his 1991 comeback, and now I'm only too aware of what it was truly like when giants walked the stages.

A golden age? Maybe not, Professor Stanbridge, but certainly some golden moments here.

Jazz In The Shoulder Season

I just confirmed an assignment to cover the Quebec City Jazz Festival for the second consecutive year. Along with the SF Jazz Festival and the Berliner Festspiele, it's one of the few major jazz events in that dead zone between the deluge of summer jazz fests and Winter Jazzfest/APAP, and as I alluded to in last year's review in DownBeat, it sets itself apart by having a very strong community base.

In fact, this year, for Signal To Noise, I'm focusing on how the festival has found success after just five years by tapping into the burgeoning arts community in Quebec City's Saint-Roch neighbourhood.

This year's lineup includes Joe Lovano's Us Five, Dave Liebman, Frank Lacy, Finland's Esa Pietilä Quartet, Roberta Gambarini, Maceo Parker, Ari Hoenig's 4tet and a host of Quebec-based artists, including electric bass pioneer Alain Caron.

Down and Dirty in the Jazz Trenches

I'm not old enough to have lived through the era when some elements associated with Louis Armstrong were dissing Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, and company, but I do recall when mainstream jazz players were tossing brick-bats at Miles Davis, Chick Corea and Herbie Hancock for experimenting with electric instruments, linear tempos and rock concert volume. It wasn't pretty, and it had a destructive effect on the image of jazz as a democratic and welcoming art form.

The whole us vs. them vibe strikes me as self-defeating, and when the art form in question is already on the margins, it just seems petty and pointless. My colleague Peter Hum has a blow-by-blow and analysis of the latest shots in the "jazz sucks" meme, which follow close on the heels of the "jazz festivals have too much rock content" and "jazz criticism sucks" posts and counter-posts.

It's all pretty nasty, and while I'm sure Kurt Rosenwinkel and Dwayne Burno have legitimate points—let's face it, we've all heard bad music—I can't help but think about the effect this all has on high school musicians who are considering a music degree with a jazz concentration, or young listeners who have wondered what they should check out in jazz. Maybe they just shouldn't bother; they can never be as good as Rosenwinkel or Burno. Someone better is always going to be judging you. What's the point of just having fun and making music with your friends?

Thinking back on my own entree into the music, I'd heard a lot of Charlie Christian, Count Basie and Duke Ellington by the time I encountered—and fell in love with the beboppers, and with my contemporaries who were pioneering fusion music in the early '70s—but it was bebop and fusion that led me back to Pops and Art Blakey and Lester Young. The lesson: People make their own connections, and find out for themselves what they like and don't like. But, when a musical form seems to be awash with back-stabbing and loathing, it is just off-putting.

I know that it's putting me off.

My Italian Escape

Just back from a great 10 days at Italy's Siena Jazz Workshop, and beginning to put together my notes for a feature I'm writing for an upcoming issue of DownBeat.

A few brief impressions: Siena is an endlessly fascinating city with gorgeous Medieval architecture and more good restaurants than any small city normally has. Even at small bars, I never had a disappointing meal. And then, there's the wine. I could go on.

The music program that Franco Caroni and his colleagues have put together through their organization, Siena Jazz, also punches well above its weight. I can't recall the last time I met music faculty as enthusiastic as these guys are, and the facilities—housed within an old Spanish fortress—blow away those at most of the university schools of music I've visited. Caroni has built the program of study during the past 40 years based on strong principles of instrument-specific concentration and what he calls (using one of the few English words I heard him say) "interplay". The ability to communicate selflessly in a combo is key to his vision of jazz, and many of the visiting faculty members at the summer workshop I observed—John Taylor, Dave Douglas, Eric Harland, Franco D'Andrea—personify that, as well.

Even if the school wasn't situated in one of Europe's most interesting small cities it would be something special. But it is in Siena, which makes it almost too good to be true.

Canadian Jazz Playlist

I received a few requests to post the playlist I used to accompany the full lecture that is prefaced in the previous entry. Here it is:

Phil Nimmons: The Atlantic Suite (excerpt)
Paul Bley: Ida Lupino
Kenny Wheeler: Smatter

Norman Symonds/Duke Ellington: Nameless Hour
Ron Collier/Duke Ellington: Aurora Borealis
Sonny Greenwich: The Nightingale

Jean Derome: Partie De Carte
Normand Guilbeault: Tresor D'Arme
François Houle 5: Seventy-three

Andy Milne: Don't Let It Bring You Down
Marilyn Lerner: Honga
John Stetch: Baba Bakes

Andrew Rathbun: True Stories
Christine Jensen Jazz Orchestra: Seafever
Darcy James Argue's Secret Society: Transit

Special thanks to Mark Miller for a few of those suggestions, and to my Italian hosts—particularly Francesco Martinelli—for being so gracious and hospitable.

Watch for my report on Siena Jazz in an upcoming issue of DownBeat.

Riffing on Canadian Jazz

I'm leaving tomorrow for 10 days at the Siena Jazz Workshop, where I'll be both participant and observer. In addition to researching profiles for DownBeat on pianists John Taylor and Franco D'Andrea—both of whom are on the workshop faculty this year—I'll be delivering a lecture in the workshop's jazz history series.

My topic dates back to lengthy email (and occasionally phone) discussions I used to have with the late jazz writer Eric Nisenson. Eric was one of the first people I met online in the early '90s, and he encouraged me to expose him to what was happening in Canada's jazz scene. The basis of his interest was a comment that Miles Davis made to him while Eric was trying to wrestle the trumpeter into sitting down for formal interviews for an oft-promised autobiography (Quincy Troupe finally succeeded where Eric failed, but that's another story). Davis told Eric that he was the only white guy besides Gil Evans who struck him as truly colour blind, which Davis attributed to Evans' birth in Canada. That always struck me as one of those outrageously—and usually purposefully—provocative things Davis said, since Evans was barely out of a crib when his mother moved him from Toronto to California, but we Canadians love to claim him as our own if we can.

Eric's interest in Canadian music was also sparked by his deep love of Glenn Gould's music, his attraction to the work of Kenny Wheeler, and his abiding dislike of anything Oscar Peterson played.

It was a good time in Canadian jazz, with a lot of young(ish) players coming up, and I was happy to share tips and recordings with Eric.

Our conversations about the music led to him encouraging me to write a survey book. I demurred, saying that my friend Mark Miller had already cornered that subject, but Eric persisted, saying that there was a book to be written on what Wheeler, Paul Bley and Sonny Greenwich (an artist he knew about—through Davis—but hadn't heard until I sent him some CDs) had in common. Gould's landmark Idea of North and his various essays on the influence of the Canadian landscape on artists made Eric believe there was a link there. Good idea, I agreed, but how to interest a publisher in something like that? An academic publisher, perhaps, but not likely a mainstream one.

So, years passed, as did Eric, but I kept coming back to the idea. Every so often I'd ask a Canadian musician if the theory rang true for them, and eventually got a chance to ask Wheeler, Bley and Greenwich. No one ever dismissed it as rubbish, although Wheeler—as recently as two weeks ago, when I asked him about it again—couldn't put his finger on any specific influences.

It's certainly true that Canada is distinct from the United States in many ways, and at a symposium organized by George Lewis and Howard Mandel a few years ago at Columbia University, I spoke about how some Canadian jazz musicians (pianists Andy Milne, D.D. Jackson, Marilyn Lerner and John Stetch) retained rich elements of their ethnic heritage in their music.

In Siena, I'm going to expand on the topic, finally giving Eric his due on the validity of this theory. We'll see where it goes from there. Here's the introduction to what will be a 75-minute presentation with music samples, and hopefully some give-and-take with my European audience.

Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau once said that living next to the United States was like “sleeping with an elephant. No matter how friendly and even-tempered the beast is, one is affected by every twitch and grunt.”

If such is the case for things like trade and politics, it is amplified when it comes to art and culture, and no more so than when the topic is jazz, which my neighbours to the south love to call “America’s classical music.”

So, sleeping next to this beast, how does one create music that both respects—and builds upon tradition—and reflects your own culture?

How do you tell your own story… in your own musical dialect… when the story has shared roots like jazz?

It is a challenge that exists not just for Canadian improvisers, but for those who live anywhere in the world.

The elephant is that big!

For those who may not know, Canada does have a distinctive cultural voice… in visual arts, it is the raw, wild landscapes of A.Y. Jackson and his fellow members of the Group of Seven. It is the expressionism of the west coast rainforest, as expressed by Emily Carr.

In literature, it is the psychological inner views of Robertson Davies, the futurist feminism of Margaret Atwood, and the merciless self-examination of Mordecai Richler.

These are forms of expression you will not find in any other nation.

In his prolific writing for radio, the Canadian concert pianist Glenn Gould frequently addressed what he called ‘The Idea of North.’

By that, he meant that Canada gave its citizens a sense of space, isolation and alienation that was their own. And yet, there was always the elephant looming large.

So, artists in Canada develop their own voice, their own approach to storytelling—whether with a brush, a computer or a saxophone—but the lure is often there from the other. The grass the elephant grazes on looks sweeter. And clearly, it’s nourishing. There is enough of it… well, to feed an elephant.

But Canada—like any nation—is not static.

Like Italy, Germany, Switzerland, Finland, its face is constantly changed by global migration patterns.

It reflects the trend of urbanization that every country is undergoing.

How that affects Canada, and how Canada reflects that reality through its arts, is also unique.

America is frequently referred to as ‘a melting pot.’

The theory is that America is a land of immigrants, who have arrived in wave after wave since the 1600s. But regardless of where the waves have originated—from Eastern Europe, Ireland, Italy, the Middle East or Southeast Asia—the people who arrive in America want to be American.

They desire to blend in.

To melt into the masses.

Canada has always been different.

While many of our immigrants come from the same places, those who decide to stay in Canada more often keep their own cultural identities.

Or at least they blend their ethnic identities with the Canadian identity.

And that reality is the story of jazz in Canada.

Our artists have developed distinctive voices.

They’ve been lured to the sweeter grass. And many times they’ve returned.

And they have kept their own distinctive cultural identities, and blended into with both the Northern Voice and with the tradition of improvised jazz.

2011 TD Ottawa International Jazz Festival Wrap Up

Well, the numbers are in, and it looks like Canada's second-oldest jazz festival isn't about to climb out of the $80,000 hole it created in 2010. As Peter Hum points out in this overview, bad weather killed attendance at a number of the pricy outdoor mainstage events. Certainly, the small turnout for Elvis Costello was understandable; I've never seen it rain that hard and long in Ottawa. Anyone considering attending that night could be excused for finding anything better to do indoors.

The big drop off in attendance for Return To Forever points to a knottier problem. When they appeared before a huge crowd three years ago the weather was also pretty threatening. I recall that it had rained heavily around 6 p.m., and by showtime it was overcast and soupy. So, did Al DiMeola make for the difference in attendance, or was it something more like the curiosity factor that drew people out in 2008, but kept them away this year? Those are the kinds of questions that will make festival programmers lose sleep.

The Ottawa festival has not fared well over the years when it comes to catching a break on the weather. Perhaps the low point was a 2004 concert by a supergroup co-fronted by Wayne Shorter and Herbie Hancock. A huge crowd stood through a steady downpour on a cold night. If it had been anyone less than those Miles Davis alumni onstage they would have fled in droves, I'm sure.

So, what to do? It's going to be something the festival will have to wrestle with. As long as it's spending big bucks to put superstar acts on the mainstage it will be rolling the dice. And yet, without an act that can draw 11,000 or 12,000 to the park, you can't hope to subsidize name artists like Vijay Iyer, Brad Mehldau and Kurt Elling in expensive soft-seat venues.