Understanding Our Privilege Within the Jazz Community and Respecting Jazz as a Progressive Art Form
As a musician who’s spent time living in different places (the UK, Europe, and the USA for a short period) and experiencing different scenes, it’s very interesting to me to see how people approach their own musical paths, and to understand what their values and beliefs are within the jazz idiom.
Something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently is the privilege of being able to have a sustainable career as a jazz musician, or as a musician in general. From my personal experience of the musicians I’ve met who I believe are continuing the progressive legacy of jazz as an art form, there’s a deep respect for the tradition, regardless of what angle they’ve come into the music from or what specific path they’ve chosen.
Obviously, our backgrounds will shape how and why we got into jazz, but something I’ve been thinking about is how I think it’s incredibly important to respect the art form by being curious, open-minded, dedicated, consistent, and thorough with our musical research. Working on the fundamentals is key, and in my opinion, unavoidable if you want to articulate yourself fully and clearly. By research, I’m mostly referring to learned repertoire, historical knowledge of the musicians who came before us, awareness of those who are on the scene now, active and curious listening, awareness of different styles, and dedication to developing deep familiarity and fluency on our instruments.
As a side note regarding instrumental proficiency, I see technique and command of our instruments as a way to remove barriers in expression, not as something to potentially show off with, i.e good technique alone isn’t the goal, it’s simply a means to eliminate limitations. If our goal is to understand the music and have control of our instruments, we create more space to be authentic and present.
Jazz in itself and at its core, is progressive. All of the greats who came before us consistently honoured the tradition by dedicating themselves to their craft, doing the research, and pushing the music forward to new places. My personal belief is that musicians who try to take something further without trying to understand the history and tradition of the music can be somewhat lacking, and it becomes apparent quickly upon listening. While it’s possible to get by and have a somewhat ‘successful’ career without this understanding, I think it’s important to be honest with ourselves about whether we’ve done the appropriate research in order to take things further in a truthful way.
Personally, for me, having a career isn’t the primary goal, it’s the result of what music means to me, and for that I’m incredibly grateful for all opportunities that come my way due to the work I’ve put in. Maybe it’s naive to think, but I believe the right opportunities will come along if you put the work in, stay honest to yourself, show up and just be a good person.
In a lesson with Ambrose Akinmusire, he said to me (along the lines of), "Look into the past, check in with yourself, and look into the future—what it is, what it’s not, and what it could be." He also said that the idea is to try and sound like what Bird would sound like if he were alive today, not just to imitate Bird. This is a mantra I love, and I think it’s relevant to everyone, regardless of who you are or how you want to play.
In terms of privilege, one thing I’ve noticed when comparing the States and Europe is that in the U.S., there’s often much more at stake, and much more to fight for. This feels more deeply connected to the roots of jazz as Black American music, a tradition rooted in resistance, survival, and profound cultural expression. The scene in the U.S., especially in places like New York, is far more competitive and offers fewer safety nets. Sustaining a life as a jazz musician there, particularly when first moving to the city, often means juggling multiple jobs, managing high living costs, staying present on the scene, and still showing up at the highest musical level. There’s also a deeper sense of urgency and intensity that comes from the music’s cultural weight and its living history.
In contrast, many European countries have more institutional and financial support for the arts, from state-subsidised venues and grants to well-funded education systems, which can create a different kind of access and stability for musicians. While that brings amazing opportunities, it can also sometimes remove the sense of necessity or pressure that shapes the music’s edge and spirit elsewhere.
I believe that if you want to sustain a meaningful career in music, you need to invest in yourself and others around you with respect and dedication. Bringing a negative or difficult attitude, whether on the bandstand or in any musical setting, will eventually catch up with you. Often, the musicians who get away with being difficult for a while are those who are more privileged and have a safety net of opportunities. But that doesn’t mean it’s harmless; in fact, they might be unknowingly sabotaging their own potential by burning bridges or missing chances to grow. Over time, people’s tolerance wears thin, and those bad vibes will impact the opportunities you get. So respect, kindness, and professionalism aren’t just about being nice, they’re essential for longevity and true success in this field.
To further the point about how privilege within the jazz scene can depend on geographical location, this isn’t to say that other scenes lack depth or artistry. In places where getting gigs is somewhat easier, there’s often more room to experiment, express individuality, and commit fully to your practice. Those kinds of environments can be incredibly nurturing and bring their own kind of richness. But in scenes that are smaller or more comfortable, it can sometimes be easier to get by without holding yourself to the same level of personal accountability, both musically and personally.
As a white musician from the UK living in Europe, I believe it’s incredibly important to stay aware of the privilege that comes with playing this music in more supportive or comfortable environments. That privilege includes being able to make a living from something that came from someone else’s struggle. It means being able to play without the same level of risk, and we should never take that for granted. Honouring this music starts with acknowledging its history, understanding the context it came from, and recognising what it means to participate in it today.
In a career like this, we’re all going to face rejection, missed opportunities, and moments where things don’t work out how we’d hoped. That’s why it’s so important to keep coming back to why we’re doing this in the first place, what drew us to the music beyond validation or career progression, because it gets hard, and we need to be resilient to external pressures. Through my hardest moments, the one constant that’s meant everything to me is knowing I can wake up and play my instrument. That in itself is a huge privilege, and a reminder of the deeper reasons why we commit to this art form.
I also think we’re all aware of the areas in our playing that need work, and it’s important to be honest with ourselves and not let the illusion of a “successful” career get in the way of pushing our personal craft as far as it can go. Again, this ties in with privilege and how easy or hard it is to build a career. Ultimately, some of us will be in more privileged positions career-wise, whether that’s having access to better gigs, funding, less competition, or just landing in the right place at the right time. If that’s the case, we need to be honest with ourselves and fully embrace that space. And honesty requires letting go of ego.
No matter what, we should all be reaching for the same bar. And while it can be helpful to have that standard set externally, if we don’t have that, we need to create it internally with the resources that we do have. At an earlier stage in my musical career, I always knew deep down that I had not developed some fundamental elements musically. Being realistic with myself led me to take time out to study more and address the areas of my playing that needed work. In all honesty, this will never feel complete and I’m very much still on my journey, but that is a feeling I have learned to embrace and even appreciate, as it keeps me curious and excited. Taking the time out to study again was the best long-term investment I could have made in myself.
One thing I’ve consistently noticed about all of my favourite current musicians is that they’ve done the work, even if that work looked different for each of them, they’ve put in the time to get where they are today. And regardless of their stylistic approach, no corners have been cut when it comes to genuine dedication and love for the music. I think it’s also important to note, that musical growth requires an incredible amount of patience.
To return to the theme of privilege within jazz and the importance of respecting the art form, I don’t believe we’re meant to have the same experiences, but we do each have a responsibility to understand our own place within the musical world, and to be honest with ourselves about what we’re bringing to it.
Some things I like to keep in mind are: Am I being curious enough? Have I done enough research to truly understand and respect the roots of jazz, and to take it somewhere new with integrity? Have I focused on certain areas just enough to ‘get by’ and build a career, rather than truly pushing myself? Why am I doing this, and who for? Is it still coming from a place of love?
