Many people feel excluded, even cheated, when the word talent appears. The talent concept is fascinating to me because it presents ability as a phenomenon that is just there—as though someone just popped out of his or her momma able to play the trumpet, sink a hole in one or paint the Mona Lisa.

In my work, I get to see lots of really gifted people—a new crop every year. Some of them talk a lot about what they really love to do. Some of them just quietly let their passion sweep them away. As the year wears on, the talkers explain their slow progress as a lack of proper instruction, resources, time etc. Conversely, those that go about their business, living their passions, begin to blossom.

The world will recognize the talent of the latter student and say that they’re more gifted than the others. I find that who we are amounts to what we actually get around to doing with our time.

For every “gifted virtuoso” there’s a story of passion, focus, obsession, and compulsion. Something takes over and expresses its self through this person as though they were merely a vessel.

I see small glimmers of it in my daughter Giselle—the things that sweep her away become the things she can do really well. Giselle loves to play basketball and draw cartoons. Something just takes her over and only wild horses can pull her away from her occupations. Afterwards, she’s just burning to get back to whatever she was doing. The rapture of being swept away by what she was doing is her contract with her higher power.

People know when we are truly inspired. If we have to tell people that we love doing this or that, or that a weird force compels us, it’s like a breach of contract. Our reward becomes merely the fame of talking.

I believe that we all possess equal talent. Our personalities are the wild cards. Is it a coincidence that the ideals of music are expressed in character references like discipline and virtuosity? The key qualities are focus and hard work—and an ability to surrender to the demands of a task, even when that is an unbearable drudgery.

The endless and monotonous practicing of scales and patterns is an essential part of every musician’s training. These exercises fuse the instrument to your mind and body so that the instrument becomes like your own mouth and tongue. By surrendering to the task, whether it’s scales or floor-mopping or brake shoe repair, even the average Joe can become a virtuoso.

Most of us have a dream destination. Many are called and few arrive. If we just decide we’re there without actually doing the work, the trip we took was an ego trip. If we transport ourselves by doing the work, then we’ll surely get to that dream destination. I’m told that the true meaning of love is work. Seems fair to work for what you love.

When guitarist and singer John Pizzarelli takes to the stage in November as part of this season’s Izzy Asper Jazz Performances, audiences can settle in for a feast of classics from the American Songbook, delivered with panache.

Born in 1960, Pizzarelli began to play guitar at the age of six, following in the footsteps of his father, guitar legend Bucky Pizzarelli. As a child he was exposed to great music and great musicians, and clearly he had the gifts to receive those impressions and make something of them. By the time he was a young adult, he was performing with his father, and since then he has set out on a busy career, establishing a solid international reputation as both a virtuosic guitar player and an expressive singer.

Pizzarelli brings the magic of the swing band tradition to life again. His guitar stylings reach back to the heady days when Django Reinhardt played in Duke Ellington’s band—there’s dexterity, there’s intensity, there’s real joy. As a singer, you can hear the whole lineage kicked off by Louis Armstrong. Pizzarelli has often said that “Nat ‘King’ Cole is why I do what I do.” He’s also powerfully connected to Frank Sinatra—one of his many recordings is entitled Dear Mr Sinatra.

As well as an intense international touring schedule, performing with his own trio and quartet as well as with orchestras, Pizzarelli is a busy recording artist, with almost two dozen recordings to his credit. Since 2000, he has released a new CD pretty much every year, recent titles being With a Song in My Heart (Telarc 2008), Generations, a recording with his father (Arbors 2007), Dear Mr Sinatra (Telarc 2006), Knowing You (Telarc 2005), and Bossa Nova (Telarc 2004).

Pizzarelli is also a performer who embraces lively collaborations, and one of those musical relationships is with the young jazz violin virtuoso, Aaron Weinstein. Downbeat recently named him a Rising Star Violinist, a designation that is certainly borne out by his performing and recording history. When he released A Handful of Stars (Arbors) in 2005, reviewer Nat Hentoff announced it “the rebirth of the hot jazz violin.”

Weinstein has recently graduated from the Berklee College in Boston, but while he was still in high school, he led the Stéphane Grappelli Tribute Trio—voted the best high school instrumental jazz group by Downbeat in 2002. Grappelli’s influence on this young violinist is palpable, from the warmth of his tone to the elegant phrasing to the fiery speed of delivery.

Weinstein and Pizzarelli have been playing together a fair amount over the past couple of years, and it’s a match made in heaven. Both have a genuine passion for jazz classics and both are natural entertainers, easy and playful with both the music and their audiences. Just as importantly, their musical voices connect effortlessly—in much the same way that Django Reinhardt and Stéphane Grappelli’s did a couple of generations back.

In 2008, they released Blue Too, a duo recording that shows off that perfect fit. A JazzTimes review puts it this way: “Weinstein and Pizzarelli are so closely attuned to each other’s touch and tone that each collaboration flows easily, no matter how fast the tempo.” Nat Hentoff points out that even without a standard rhythm section, the music-making has lots of lift—he credits that to the fact that “swinging is as natural as breathing” for these two players.

When John Pizzarelli and Aaron Weinstein take to the stage this November, they’ll be joined by members of the Pizzarelli Quartet—John’s brother Martin Pizzarelli on bass, Anthony Tedesco on drums, and Larry Fuller at the piano. If you’re looking for a couple of hours of beautiful music played with virtuosity and heart, this concert is it.

Karrin Allyson began her musical journey learning classical piano, first from her mother then later earning her degree as a classical piano major. Moving through several genres, she found jazz to be the right vehicle for her artistic voice. Born in Kansas City, now based in New York City, this three-time GRAMMY nominated artist will be on stage in Winnipeg in late October as part of the Izzy Asper Jazz Performances series. I caught up with her by phone.

You said, “Music is a positive way to spread love and creative thought.” Is this your personal credo?

Basically, yes! The process of creating music, or even just thinking about it, I think somehow spreads good energy. For me, this goes for any creative thing really—planting a garden, painting, taking a long walk, helping someone, cooking something good, being with family or friends…

You perform everywhere, from clubs to Carnegie Hall, from Australia to Asia. Do you suffer from burn-out sometimes?

Definitely. It’s important for me to remember that my players are depending on me, and the audience too. Once I get on that stage I’m there for them, all of them. My players really get me focused, and once the show starts everything feel much clearer.

And between shows? What renews your inspiration?

Nature. Movies. Books. I like to work out when I can. But rest is the best cure. I always make sure the band and I have eaten properly too, that’s important. I create quiet time before a show. If I can, I take a 20 minute nap. I take time to focus.

With such a busy schedule how do you manage a regular practice routine?

I wish! Life’s too unpredictable for a regular routine so I practice when I can. (I was about to practice when you called!)

There are so many approaches to this music people call jazz. What is jazz to you?

Improvisation is the key. The rhythm section needs to have room to move and evolve within a song. Many forget that and use machines or pre-sets. As a singer, phrasing is important. Pop phrasing is something different that the phrasing found in jazz. Jazz is not about the type of song—it ain’t what you got, it’s how you use it! Jazz needs to breathe.

Who are your musical influences?

Joni Mitchell, James Taylor—those great singer-songwriters came first. I love Latin and funk music. I discovered Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday and Carmen McRae later.

How do you choose a tune to add to your repertoire?

It depends on the project. Sometimes the melody or poetry of the song speaks to me and sometimes it’s about the theme of a record that draws me to choose a particular composition. As long as it’s something you love to play.

Liza Minnelli speaks about breaking down each song into the character traits of the woman she imagines singing it. What do you think about that?

It’s a good idea. This music is confessional—like the great blues singers telling you what’s going on for them in a deep and usually painful way. Telling the story in an intimate kind of way is important.

You gotta be brave up there and honest.

Exactly. Tell the story and reach out. Communicate with your audience. It doesn’t always happen but you want to reach out…

The Christmas season will be a whole lot merrier this year for anyone who enjoys great music, as Toronto-born vocalist Denzal Sinclaire will join the Winnipeg Jazz Orchestra for its December concert.

Sinclaire’s smooth timbre and joyful approach to singing have been winning over listeners around the world. He seems to have effortless control over his voice, taking it wherever he wants it to go. One of his fans is singer Diana Krall who observes that “Denzal Sinclaire embodies the tradition of the great singers I love like Nat King Cole, yet definitely has his own voice. He is one of my favorite singers.”

“I guess I started singing when I was 8 or 9,” Denzal said when we spoke on the phone in early October. “I would try to sing along with recordings of Nat King Cole and Johnny Mathis.” While he has developed his own distinct sound over the years, the influence of especially Cole has remained very much apparent in Denzal’s voice today. Fittingly enough, the reason for Sinclaire’s stop in the Jazz Capital of Canada is to perform in a show paying homage to Cole and his music.

Sinclaire’s musical resume speaks for itself. He is a multiple Juno Award nominee, and was inducted into the British Columbia Entertainment Hall of Fame in 2005. He was voted “Male Jazz Vocalist of the Year” four years in a row by Canada’s Jazz Report magazine, and was the subject of a one-hour BRAVO! television special. He has performed around the world as a headliner for major Jazz Festivals and as a guest vocalist with symphony orchestras.

Sinclaire has released three albums under his own name. After his debut, I Found Love, appeared in 2001, he was picked up by Verve. In 2004, his self-titled recording won the National Jazz Award for Best Album. It was followed in 2006 by his newest release, My One and Only Love, also from Verve. With each recording, his performances only get stronger. He always seems to choose the right music at the right time.

Sinclaire also has great taste when it comes to choosing his bandmates. My One and Only Love features a stellar cast of musicians from both Vancouver and New York, including Brad Turner, Seamus Blake, Russell Malone, Reuben Rogers and Gregory Hutchinson. He also took a chance by playing piano on two tracks of this recording. He told me he has been playing piano since he was a child, but had only “added colours to the music” in earlier recordings. His playing is very tasteful, especially on the classic song “Always on My Mind,” my favorite track. When I asked him what it was like to play piano while singing live off the floor, he called it “a good challenge,” and pointed out that “jazz is one level cool, and one level killer.” It seems as though Sinclaire is balancing both levels beautifully.

Don’t miss Denzal Sinclaire when he takes the stage with the Winnipeg Jazz Orchestra this December. Not only will the music put you in the Christmas mood, but you’ll experience for yourself why Sinclaire is considered by many to be the premier male jazz vocalist in Canada.

I first knew Martha Brooks as an award-winning novelist, but she’s also an accomplished jazz vocalist. Her CD Change of Heart was named the outstanding jazz album at the Prairie Music Awards a few years back.

When did you start singing jazz?

I started this singing life back home at Pelican Lake, where my husband, Brian, and I still pretty much live from June to mid-October. I have a sacred connection to that landscape and it’s where sound will always come to me and from me in an “unlabelled” and effortless way. Long ago, one of my father’s patients was a stride piano player. I loved what John did at the piano, the way he claimed it. He taught me “Josephine” and we both dug Chopin. I don’t read music but I have a classically trained voice—that’s a story for another time.

Who are some of your jazz icons?

People who make or have made inspiring music. Joni Mitchell and, more recently, that largely unappreciated genius, Patricia Barber. The jazz crones, Sarah Vaughan, Betty Carter, Sheila Jordan and Queen Shirley—Horn, that is. Bill Evans and Keith Jarrett for obvious reasons. And always Oscar Peterson whose “Hymn to Freedom,” every time, turns me into a great sopping mess.

You’re also an award-winning novelist. How does your writing self connect with your musical self?

Writing is what I do for a living. Singing is what I do for joy. That being said I do love to write books, but it’s exhausting and so ridiculously up-your-bum. But yes, words, how I love words, and how I love a good song with great lyrics. I think that’s largely why I don’t scat—I’d rather deconstruct the melodic line and play with time while still keeping the poetry of the language. But I do like a bit of vocalise—maybe that’s the classical singer in me.

Tell me about your November gig with Glenn Buhr.

You can expect to hear Glenn powering me up—which he does brilliantly for every musician with whom he works. We’ll be performing Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne,” Glenn’s composition (with Margaret Sweatman’s gorgeous lyrics) “I’m in Love With Sleep,” Patricia Barber’s “The Moon,” Joni Mitchell’s “In France They Kiss on Main Street,” and a couple of other surprises, along with assorted jazz standards. It will be an intimate cabaret-style concert for jazz friends.

Calling all trombone players—the brass department at the University of Manitoba has booked in one of Canada’s top trombonists for a two-day weekend seminar in mid-November.

Al Kay is one of Toronto’s busiest musicians, performing and recording for nearly three decades. For the last fifteen years, he’s been the lead trombone with Rob McConnell’s Boss Brass. He’s a first-call musician for Toronto’s major musical theatre productions, including “The Producers,” “Ragtime,” and “Crazy for You.” More recently, he’s been pouring his energies into True North Brass, an ensemble which performs a wide range of musical styles and showcases the virtuosity of its members. Over the course of his career, he has worked with a long list of jazz artists including Ella Fitzgerald, Harry Connick Jr, Phil Woods, Diana Krall, and Slide Hampton. Kay is also a gifted teacher—as well as numerous clinics and masterclasses, he teaches at Humber College where he’s Head of the Brass Department.

The two-day seminar focuses on general trombone skills—tone, technique, range, endurance, and such. It’s not intended particularly for jazz musicians, but the opportunity to tackle fundamentals with an experienced professional and clinician will be a boon for any interested player. Seminar participants will be split into two groups: the junior level ($75) targets musicians who have not yet had sustained individual instruction on the trombone, and the senior level ($175) builds on a solid familiarity with the instrument. Kay will play a concert of mixed repertoire on the final evening.

In an ideal world, the musicians that perform in the Jazz on Wheels band every summer go into the classrooms of the underserved schools in the cooler seasons to share the richness of the jazz culture. They teach music—not even necessarily jazz, just music. They offer those kids some pathways toward musical communication, giving them an option to use the tools of the jazz musician to express their own lives and cultures.

In an ideal world, the kids from those schools find their way to our Summer Jazz Camp, and then to our university. Maybe they go to the jazz program, maybe they go into one of the other music streams, but they get there. And they excel.

In an ideal world, the Jazz on Wheels band is eventually made up of these kids. Maybe we’re talking 7 years from now, maybe 15 years from now, but in the future, Jazz on Wheels has a unique north prairie urban sound that can be found nowhere else but right here in the Jazz Capital of Canada.

That’s our dream. The university is dreaming with us to make it happen. We’re getting help from a lot of other important people along the way, labourers of love who are willing to take some chances and to sacrifice hours and talent for the enrichment of our precious community.

I have never been one to underestimate the value of a dream. It’s gonna happen.

Jean Baptiste, or Django, Reinhardt was a nomadic, outlandish, self-taught musician who couldn’t read music or words. His towering contribution to music makes him one of the most influential jazz guitarists of all time and the single most important jazz musician to emerge from Europe.

Those who worked with him say Reinhardt was ingenious, charming, capricious, and exasperating. He kept a pet monkey, and he was a habitual gambler who once permanently abandoned his new car on the side of the road when it ran out of gas. Many fans will recognize Reinhardt as the source of Sean Penn’s musical quest in the Woody Allen movie Sweet and Lowdown.

Reinhardt was born in a gypsy caravan in Belgium, and Django is his Roma name. He was a child prodigy on the banjo-guitar, but at age eighteen his playing career almost ended when his left hand and right side from waist to knee were badly burned in a caravan fire. He was bedridden in a nursing home for eighteen months while he recovered. It was while he was there that he developed a new fingering for playing the guitar that primarily used the two fingers of his left hand that had flexibility. His fourth and fifth fingers were permanently curled toward his palm because the tendons had shrunk in the heat of the fire and he could use them only on the first two strings of the guitar. When he soloed, Reinhardt used his index and middle fingers. These limitations shaped his distinctive style as a guitarist.

Reinhardt came into prominence in 1934 with the formation of the Quintette du Hot Club de France. Reinhardt’s musical partner in the group was violinist Stéphane Grappelli. Until Grappelli’s departure from France and from the quintet at the outbreak of war in 1939, they created some of the most innovative and imaginative music in jazz.

It is estimated that Reinhardt recorded somewhere between 750 and 1,000 sides in his lifetime. A quick survey of releases under his name today shows numerous CDs drawn from a variety of settings, including radio broadcasts, studio sessions, and concerts. For the new fan there is a lot to dive into. A strong place to start is The Best of Django Reinhardt [Blue Note #37138]. It features eighteen selections recorded between 1936 and 1948. The music ranges from sensual to high octane.

This is thoroughly charming music that, despite the archival recording sound, deserves to be listened to intently. Reinhardt loved the sound of North American jazz and somehow managed to turn it into something sexy and very European by incorporating gypsy melodies, Russian balalaika music, the French musette, and an abundance of string instruments.

The Hot Club is represented on the CD with four selections including the uptempo classic “Minor Swing,” a song co-written with Grappelli and loosely based on an Eastern European theme (“Dark Eyes”). The raucous “Limehouse Blues” showcases Reinhardt and Grappelli’s virtuosity on their respective instruments. “Naguine” is a beautifully relaxed song named after Reinhardt’s second wife. The biggest departure for Reinhardt is “Manoir de mes rêves (a.k.a. Django’s Castle),” which is the surviving fragment of a symphony he wrote. It features Reinhardt in a session, not long after the end of the Second World War, when he toured the United States, playing with a group of American musicians.

Reinhardt died at the age of forty-three of a cerebral hemorrhage in Samois-sur-Seine, the small town where he had retired. Each year, the town holds a festival to celebrate his music.

One of September’s THIN AIR Mainstages introduced audiences to new work by three high-powered science fiction writers: Nick DiChario read from Valley of Day-Glo, Robert Charles Wilson read from Julian Comstock, and Robert J Sawyer read from Wake. After the intermission, the four of us had a free-wheeling conversation about these books and this genre.

It’s exciting to travel alongside practiced dreamers like these guys. They allow present trajectories of politics and economics and environmental challenge to carry us away and deposit us in places that are both familiar and strange. Their alternate realities, whether near or far, have such impact because they observe very frankly what is true now. They see how we live and what we value, they cast back on historical patterns—and then they speculate. It’s not always easy or comfortable, but it certainly is compelling.

Each of these novels is serious, and the writers are too. But I was struck by how often even dire situations are lit up by wit, so I asked them about that. Sawyer was first out of the gate. He pointed out that science fiction (or speculative fiction, as some writers prefer) is explicitly engaged in pushing past what is known, confronting the reader with new possibilities that are often surprising. That surprise factor is also what generates laughter. As he put it, there’s only the smallest leap between “a-ha!” and “ha-ha!” I would happily have settled for that, but his stage-mates were already riffing on possibilities, adding “ah…” and “awe” and “aaaahhhhh” to the equation.

In essence these three thinkers were lining up curiosity, discovery, delight, wonder—I think that’s a great way to think about wit. It’s so often equated with humour but ultimately wit is much bigger than that. It calls on one’s ability (and willingness) to consider competing notions at once, in the moment, and to find delight and insight in that mental effort.

I’m willing to wager that all art forms depend on wit. Artists make connections, it’s what they do. I think jazz is a special case, though—it actually celebrates wit. The whole impulse of this music is to hold different angles and points of view in suspension, to challenge structures while upholding them, to push against personal limits while offering your most intimate awareness—and to share the joy and danger of making these leaps on the fly, without a safety net.

Even those who aren’t accomplished writers or musicians can benefit from living with a little more wit. I used to challenge my writing students to choose three wildly different words, then find a meaningful sentence to hold them together. They never got stumped. Try it. With some practice, you’ll be surprising yourself with your own flashes of dexterity, subtlety, extravagance, depth, daring. You might even laugh.