I live in a beautiful world these days. I can see the tenets of jazz culture in practically everything I do. Whether I’m hanging out, talking with friends, or driving down the street in heavy traffic, it feels like I’m performing in a jazz ensemble. It’s in my DNA now. Learning, teaching, and everyday life are operating from the same reflexes: listening, hearing, feeling, responding, seeing, thinking, creating, and sometimes deconstructing, according to my state of mind.

From my perspective, a jazz ensemble can be a great forum to develop those reflexes. Likewise, so can a soccer team or a construction crew. In jazz, at any given moment anyone can be the leader or the supporter. When I teach, I start out as the leader yet often realize that I’m being taught something new by the way my student manipulates the subject matter. I had to learn to be open to that. I’ve struck a lot of gold that way.

Some of the higher callings of life are to listen, learn and create a way to give back to the world. I’m fortunate to have teaching as a way to give back because it has allowed me to learn things about how to play music that I didn’t get through conventional education and performance.

I attended the Essentially Ellington festival in New York last May. Sixteen or seventeen bands from all over North America come and compete for prizes and national recognition. I struck up many conversations with the band directors there. Categorically, they all had the same story to relate—their kids were going off to college and returning to complain to them that their college professors can’t teach.

I mentioned to one of the guys in passing that many of the university profs come to teaching from the world of professional performance so naturally many approaches will be different from what the students get in high school. That can make it hard for them to connect with the information.

The same obstacles that challenge me in teaching also challenge the learning process of many new students. When I enter a classroom with a preconceived notion, it severely hampers my creativity. Similarly, when students already have an idea of how something “must” be taught, they often dismiss vital information because they don’t recognize the value of the new concepts. They may even decide they aren’t being taught anything because they haven’t heard the concepts that they were expecting to hear. I’ve seen repeatedly that students who come in with no preconception or expectation grasp new things more quickly.

Newt Gingrich says there’s always “a cookie”—a prize, a lesson to be learned in every situation. By losing all expectation yet remaining inquisitive, whether teaching, learning or performing a simple task, we remain open to more possibilities.

Every day there’s a special lesson to be learned when you’re open-minded. When you wake up each day, tell yourself, “Today I’m gonna get that cookie!”

On Saturday, July 30, Babs (Ruth) Asper died suddenly and unexpectedly, and Winnipeg’s jazz community lost a quiet leader. Like her husband Izzy, Babs was a great lover of jazz music, attending and hosting concerts, and offering all kinds of support to many of this city’s artists.

I knew very soon after arriving here in Winnipeg that Babs Asper was a major force in this city’s business and social world, but I never really felt the weight of that—Babs Asper always seemed like Regular People. From the very beginning, I was blown away when she walked through the door at places where I was performing. She had so much on her plate, yet she’d take the time to be there, and then she’d ask questions a mom would ask, that a friend would ask—those thoughtful, personal questions.

At the funeral when I listened to her kids talk about the kindness and caring they’d experienced, I realized that in the short period of time I had known her, Babs had shared all those generous qualities with me. I felt that she looked after me. She cared that I was happy to be here in Winnipeg. She invited me over and talked to me about music and about the city. She introduced me to her friends. She sent me emails every now and then. She challenged me to live up to my potential. I never felt I was outside of her circle.

Babs Asper has been especially crucial to the new Jazz Studies program at the Marcel A Desautels Faculty of Music. Not long after I arrived, she and her friends made it their mission to check out all the things that I was doing here in the city. They went to jam sessions, they went to masterclasses, they went to concerts. She talked to people, and listened to their ideas and even offered some of her own.

Then she invited us to her house to do a concert. Afterward, she said to all of the friends she’d gathered there that she thought we were doing great things and she wanted to support our jazz program. That was her style—she put her muscle behind things she believed in. She empowered us all, from fundraisers to jazz artists to eager students, to begin the work of transforming a huge dream into a very tangible reality.

There’s a poignancy to the fact that we are just now unveiling the Babs Asper Professorship in Jazz Performance. This designation is a clear sign of our respect and appreciation for a lady who laid the cornerstone for our fledgling jazz program. We chose carefully: Derrick Gardner is a musician of great artistry and professionalism, and a man whose love for jazz and for people is inspiring. I’m deeply disappointed not to have the opportunity to introduce this great musical personality to Babs. We believe that he represents the values she instilled in us.

It takes a really special person to be Babs Asper. Because of her example, I know what it means to be good for your community, to care about other people, to be helpful and strive for the best. Because of her generosity, the Jazz Studies program is not only thriving, but creating links between the avid pursuit of excellence and the important work of building community.

Thanks again, Babs, from me and the jazz faculty at the U of M.

Bassist Luke Sellick is emerging as one of the city’s most engaging new jazz voices. His boyish enthusiasm is balanced by great technique and sophisticated musicality. Now entering his fourth year in the Jazz Studies program, Luke was one of several students who spent some time in New York with Steve Kirby this summer.

Now you’ve visited Jazz Mecca. What was that like?

A lot of jazz players talk about the New York scene with a reverence that makes it seem almost otherworldly. I was able to talk to a number of musicians and get a clear perception of how they go about making a living and pursuing their art form. It’s encouraging and inspiring to see so many great players, and so much passion for music. However, it’s also somewhat daunting to see a quartet of world class musicians playing for five people in a pool hall…

Tell us about shopping for a bass at David Gage’s famous shop.

It was fantastic—and a little overwhelming! I was glad to have Steve there to help me narrow it down to a handful of basses we both loved. I ended up choosing the one that I felt sounded most like myself. It’s a new bass by a wonderful contemporary maker named Hannah Mayne. Having a great instrument is inspirational—now I’m starting to focus more than ever on little details to do with sound. I love the sound of the bass so much, and I want to make sure that I do everything I can to get the most out of it.

David Gage’s place is a destination for many of the greatest jazz and classical bassists in the world, and the walls are covered in signed photographs of the likes of Ron Carter, Dave Holland and Gary Karr. Being there was a reminder that, at this point, I’m basically shooting for the same things that those guys are. I guess I better get back to work!

What advice do you have for other young up-and-coming bass players?

I think that it’s important to constantly be finding the things that motivate you and make you excited about music, or even life in general. For me, when I hear Paul Chambers play “Visitation” or Edwin Barker play the Schubert “Arpeggione” Sonata, that gives me the momentum to get in the practice room and deal with all the non-negotiables like intonation, time and sound. I’m easily distracted, so if I don’t have that inspiration, I’ll lose direction pretty quickly. So I guess my advice would be find whatever it is in music that most speaks to you, and let that be your guide when practicing, organizing your schedule, and setting goals for the future. 

Where do you see yourself five years from now?

It’s difficult to imagine! I do however have a fairly clear idea of what I hope to sound like five years from now. If I can deal with that, I trust that opportunities will open up.

The summer of 2011 has been a bit of an odyssey for the students from Hugh John Macdonald who were part of the first-ever Bridge program. They’ve had their first opportunities to perform live all over town with the Jazz on Wheels band, which has put them in front of lots of people. Then, in the middle of August, they went to the U of M Jazz Camp, where they worked alongside a hundred kids who are also committed to their instruments, and to practicing and performing.

Now, with all that wind in their sails, they’re coming back to their neighborhood for the final two Jazz on Wheels performances of the summer—on the last day of August at Rossbrook House and on September 10 at the Sherbrook Street Festival. Probably a lot of their friends will be at those shows. I wonder if they’ll notice a difference…

Vinh Huynh, the principal at Hugh John, saw them at the Jazz Camp faculty concert in August and said they seem a couple of inches taller now. I know they’ve grown in other ways—they’ve been tested, and they’ve met the challenges head on and with great energy and joy. These last two Jazz on Wheels events will be interesting because now these kids who were very new to music a few short months ago have some road experience and some academy experience behind them. They’re going places!

This particular crew all graduated this spring from Hugh John so are heading on to various high schools. We’re excited for them, and we’re sad to see them go. They’ve committed to keeping their band together, and well they should—they have a vibe and a sound that’s uniquely theirs.

It’s a bittersweet time. Every year from here forward, at the end of the Jazz on Wheels season we’ll be launching a new set of musicians into the world. Still, as September rolls around, we’ll be meeting a whole new crowd of a few dozen kids who will take on the work and play of music-making, and every year we’ll see a small handful of committed musicians emerge from that group, determined to make their mark.

It won’t be long now until we start meeting these kids out there in the field, and they’ll be old enough and wise enough and professional enough to be the Jazz on Wheels band. At that point, we hand over the reins and celebrate because a big dream will be accomplished: Jazz on Wheels will be a band comprised of kids from the neighborhoods it serves, and we’ll all have the chance to hear the absolutely unique musical soundprint of this time and this place.

In the middle of August, almost a hundred kids (and more than a few adults) immersed themselves in the techniques and philosophy of jazz at the 17th annual U of M Summer Jazz Camp. This year, faculty member Quincy Davis distributed a list of critical recordings for all serious jazz students. Here are his recommends:

Cannonball Adderley (saxophone) &
Nancy Wilson (vocalist)
Cannonball Adderley/Nancy Wilson (Capitol, 1961)

Count Basie (piano, orchestra)
The Atomic Mr Basie (Roulette, 1957)

Art Blakey (drummer)
Moanin’ (Blue Note, 1958)

John Coltrane (saxophone)
Blue Train (Blue Note, 1957)
Giant Steps (Atlantic, 1960)
A Love Supreme (Impulse, 1964)

Miles Davis (trumpet)
Milestones (Columbia, 1958)
Kind of Blue (Columbia, 1959)
Nefertiti (Columbia, 1968)

Duke Ellington (piano/orchestra)
Ellington at Newport (Columbia, 1956)

Ella Fitzgerald (vocalist) &
Louis Armstrong (vocalist, trumpet)
Ella and Louis (Verve, 1956)

Erroll Garner (piano)
Concert by the Sea (Columbia, 1955)

Dizzy Gillespie (trumpet)
Sonny Side Up (Verve, 1957)

Billie Holiday (vocalist)
Lady Sings the Blues (Clef, 1956)

Ahmad Jamal (piano)
Live at the Pershing (Argo 1958)

Hank Mobley (saxophone)
Soul Station (Blue Note, 1960)

Charlie Parker (saxophone) & Dizzy Gillespie (trumpet)
Live at Massey Hall (1953)

Oscar Peterson (piano)
Night Train (Verve, 1962)
We Gets Requests (Verve, 1964)

Wayne Shorter (saxophone)
Speak No Evil (Blue Note, 1965)

John Coltrane is one of the two most accomplished saxophonists in the history of jazz, the other being Charlie Parker. Coltrane blazed new sonic trails on his alto sax in songs that still sound fresh and timeless. He wrote and recorded numerous masterpieces, such as “Giant Steps,” “Naima,” “Central Park West,” and “A Love Supreme,” and brilliantly arranged the Broadway hit “My Favourite Things,” transforming it into a standard part of the jazz repertoire. He also made a significant contribution to the sound of Kind of Blue, Miles Davis’s pivotal release.

From the mid- to late-1950s, there were three key developments in Coltrane’s career. The first was when Coltrane apprenticed with Davis in 1955-56. Davis was fond of Coltrane’s sound and in particular loved how he could play the five notes of a chord and keep changing them around, in endlessly inventive ways. Miles was also a tough critic and, during one gig, asked Coltrane why his solos lasted so long. Coltrane innocently explained that he didn’t know how to stop. Davis teasingly suggested that he just take the saxophone out of his mouth. This was a difficult time for Coltrane—his life was in crisis; Davis eventually fired him because of his narcotics use.

At the start of 1958, after kicking his heroin addiction, Coltrane was back with Davis. In 1959, he played on the famous Kind of Blue record. It was a seminal album because most jazz until then had featured fast-moving changes. The Kind of Blue songs were more relaxed, and the musicians played short musical vamps, using them as the foundation for improvisation.

Kind of Blue gave Coltrane the creative impetus to record his next project, Giant Steps [Rhino #75203], his first album for Atlantic. Just two weeks later, Coltrane was in the studio with the same drummer, Jimmy Cobb, and bassist, Paul Chambers, used by Davis. An extraordinary year in jazz, 1959 saw four pivotal albums recorded in New York City: Giant Steps; Kind of Blue; Mingus Ah Um by Charles Mingus; and Time Out by the Dave Brubeck Quartet.

Giant Steps was just that. It represented Coltrane’s arrival as both a composer and a soloist. Most of the songs took shape when he was rehearsing at home, and his family plays a prominent role in the album. “Naima” is a loving, tender tribute to his wife. Coltrane’s playing here is beautifully sorrowful, and the song remains one of his most emotional melodic compositions. “Syeeda’s Song Flute” is named for Coltrane’s ten-year-old daughter. It reminded him of her because it sounded happy. The blues-flavoured “Cousin Mary” was a tribute to his cousin Mary Alexander, whom he grew up with in North Carolina.

The album’s title song, “Giant Steps,” gets its name because of Paul Chambers’s loping bass line. Tommy Flanagan’s frugal piano solo and his use of space are a magnificent contrast to the fast-paced note clusters Coltrane plays.

The seven songs that comprise Giant Steps helped open new doors for Coltrane. There were new possibilities for improvisation, and the album signaled just how far he was going to go beyond the boundaries of contemporary jazz.

I like to think that I had a small part in Sean Jones’ development as one of today’s top jazz trumpeters. In 2000, I was teaching at Ohio State University. I met Sean at a “battle of the bands” in Columbus, and when Sean let loose on his first solo, I was floored by his very mature sense of improvisation and the raw fire and intensity in his playing.

After the gig, we had a chance to talk. He was interested in attending a graduate school where he could study with a trumpet teacher who could help him address particular concerns. When I asked him he was sure he wanted to take that path, he responded with a definitive yes, so I recommended he study with my former teacher, Professor William Fielder at Rutgers University. I contacted Prof, as we used to call him, and after describing Sean’s talent and potential, Prof was hooked.

Within a year of studying with Prof, you could hear a huge difference in Sean’s playing and you knew that when he finished school and hit the scene, he was going to be a huge force in the jazz world.

And that’s exactly what’s happened. In 2004, he released Eternal Journey, his first recording as a leader, and this year you can get your hands on his sixth, No Need for Words. Along the way, he’s snagged two Downbeat Rising Star awards. Sean Jones is fulfilling the promise I heard over a decade ago: he’s a brilliant musician with a truly exciting sound.

On a bike ride the other day, I whizzed past a man who was walking briskly—with his nose buried in a book. I grinned all the way down the block. Why don’t I do that any more?

A couple of years ago, my son was slogging through one of those junior high hell zones. He was short-tempered with his peers, he was distracted in class, and his assignments were late. One of his teachers asked him if she could do something to help him out. He thought for a long minute, then said, “I was happier when I was reading more. I think I need to find a really good book.”

We were all a bit stunned by that observation, but he was right. He had been swept into such a vortex of schoolyard politics and academic anxiety that he had lost his connection with the private and profoundly creative core of himself. He needed to bury his nose in a book—literally—to regain his balance.

I learned a lot in that moment. My child reminded me that the things we often set off to the side as leisure can actually play a crucial role in helping us organize our experiences and restore our energies. When he was fully invested in one of the multi-volume adventures that were his passion, he was giving himself time and space to explore social structures and communication strategies and character and wit. He was letting himself be challenged, amused, frightened, and soothed. He was valuing his privacy.

All sorts of art forms offer a similar invitation—movies, photographs, theatre, dance, music—but I’m particularly interested in books, and though they’re under siege these days, I have a deep confidence that they will continue to survive, and even thrive. They’re such efficient carriers of our cultural fingerprints, and even as the delivery modes shift (think e-readers and audio-books), the appeal of a private world that allows you the full benefit of re-creation won’t ever disappear.

One of the great fortunes of my life is that I get to create a festival of writers every year. I think of THIN AIR as a kind of movable feast—every September, dozens of writers bring their dreaming to life on stages and in discussions. I admit unabashedly that I love this particular week every year, but I love the run-up to it as well—the months of reading hundreds of books and manuscripts, listening for the distinctive voices, the writers who have a freshness, an eloquence, a courage in their creations. I’m keen to meet every one of them, and I’m also keen to share them with the readers in this city.

I hope you’ll join me at some of the myriad events that make up THIN AIR 2011. Every writer will be opening portals to worlds both magical and muscular. And I know from experience that people are going to tumble into those worlds and be transformed.