I’ve been listening to to live jazz since 1970 in many different contexts. I do not like the jazz festival venue as it lacks intimacy. I’m also a jazz photographer and have found the local jams that occur in small spaces, sometimes out doors and sometimes in informal bars provide some of the best spaces to understand and enjoy the music best. Fortunately, here in Baltimore and Washington DC we have many places to enjoy jazz up close and preferably with minimum amplification. For acoustic jazz over amplification ruins the experience.
Thank you for your piece, which brings together and articulates some reflections that have been circulating in our field for quite some time.
The fact that the nature of the listening experience is intimately connected to the very essence of live music is evident in the history of jazz itself. Jazz originated in the streets and dance halls and then, in a journey that on the one hand rightfully elevated it to the status of art music, but on the other brought it dangerously close to the dusty rituals of classical music, gradually became music for the concert hall.
Much of today’s music—even when deeply rooted in the great African American tradition—seems to push against this now chronic rigidity of the listening experience, reclaiming the body, the community and, at times, intimacy.
The same is true of the ways in which entertainment and culture are consumed today, as you point out.
Many festivals and concert organisations—you mention Nadin Deventer and Berlin, but this is certainly not limited to that context—are trying to find original ways of reaching new audiences, not only in terms of age, but also in terms of the many groups that are culturally and economically excluded from traditional cultural spaces. This is certainly an issue that curators, first and foremost, need to take on.
I do think, however, that there are a few other elements worth bringing into the discussion. Let me try to summarise them.
1. Economics.
Creating site-specific and genuinely original formats involves costs that are not always easy to sustain. At the same time, the availability of existing infrastructures—concert halls, stages, sound systems, seating, and so on—naturally encourages us to make use of what is already there.
2. The nature of the music.
Some performances require specific acoustic conditions, a certain degree of concentration, and silence—elements that even the most creative and engaging innovations cannot always guarantee. There are forms of listening that are demanding by their very nature, and we should perhaps be careful not to regard that as a problem to be solved.
3. The risk of turning it into just another event.
As happens in many other fields, the search for an original approach can sometimes become more important than the music itself. Innovation can easily turn into a format-driven exercise, where the experience surrounding the music ends up overshadowing the music.
4. The most important factor, in my opinion: the musicians themselves.
They have to want this in the first place—and often they don’t, or simply don’t know how to imagine it. I don’t blame them for that. If you have spent years studying with the goal of eventually playing on a big stage in front of thousands of seated, silent people, and if you have developed your musical language around that kind of experience, it is not easy to suddenly switch gears and imagine something fundamentally different. Especially when the “system”—whether boring or not—is already there to accommodate you, and proposing something new may feel difficult or even risky.
5. The risk of uniqueness.
Unless a new format becomes widely adopted, every “creative” festival tends, to some extent, to seek exclusivity for what it has imagined: the concert for a single spectator, the original and immersive venue, and so on. This inevitably leads to a model based on exclusive production. In the current festival economy—with costs constantly rising and ticket prices unable to absorb the whole burden—that is not exactly easy to sustain.
Having the privilege and responsibility of directing a festival with many unique characteristics—such as its relationship with wineries and the local area, among others—like Jazz&Wine of Peace in Cormons, which I will also write to you about privately at some point, I find myself constantly having to balance creative ideas with the practical, regulatory and safety requirements imposed by national legislation. And unfortunately, that is not always easy.
In any case, I think the questions you raise are important and absolutely worth pursuing. I hope that a closer, more open and trust-based dialogue with artists can help us move in this direction.
Dear Enrico, I really appreciate the valuable comments and thoughts you’ve shared here. You are absolutely right on many points. My line of argument was not that we should find a universal solution for all jazz festivals, but rather precisely that every festival is unique in terms of its structure, reputation, organisation, the venues and locations it operates within.
Solutions for a “curatorial approach”, whatever that might mean in a particular case, would certainly have to take into account the unique circumstances in which a festival exists — and, of course, the wishes of the artists.
Possible solutions could also involve keeping some of the festival’s programme strands conventional, while certain parts of the programme could be open to experimenting with innovative approaches. Certainly, just as curators in the field of visual arts take into account the space and budget available to them when working with a particular gallery or museum, something similar could be said when it comes to a jazz venue.
The only point I would like to address a little further is thesis number 1 — Economics.
In Europe, as we know, many (or even most) jazz festivals have budgets based on multiple sources — from open calls by ministries of culture to various other government funds for culture or tourism. There are also Creative Europe open calls, regional funds, local government budgets, etc. Every festival is different in this respect, but what they have in common is that they do not operate purely according to market logic, since ticket sales cover only a portion of the festival’s overall costs.
If we consider that a festival has a whole range of expenses beyond the bands and musicians themselves — above all production costs (sound, stage, staff, etc.) — I think it would be perfectly reasonable to include curatorial work, as well as the additional production costs related to it, among these “standard” expenses. In other words, not to treat it as a “luxury”, but as something that is as much an integral part of the festival as the sound system or stage lighting.
If the budget is limited, this could mean having a couple fewer bands at the festival. Or perhaps the festival would last one day less. But would that really be a disaster? Does the quantity of a festival necessarily translate into quality?
My personal impression — not necessarily the only correct one — is that at least “economics”, in the most basic sense, should not really be such a major problem, and it can always be adapted to the circumstances of a particular festival. Innovation does not necessarily have to be (too) expensive.
As for points 2–5, I believe your concerns are completely valid.
I'll try to offer a few more points that might be useful for the discussion, considering that many festivals in Europe already adopt a curatorial approach like the one you suggest (I'm thinking of Saalfelden, but also Nutshell in Norway, some initiatives in Wrocław, and South Tyrol/Bolzano in Italy, in addition to the festivals I'm involved with, Cormons and NovaraJazz).
Turning to the issue of economics, what you say is certainly correct, and it's true that large European festivals in particular receive public and private funding and don't operate purely according to market logic.
But the situation isn't that simple.
Since the pandemic, we've seen a considerable increase in many costs - technical, transportation, and artist fees as well - an increase that hasn't been matched by a corresponding rise in resources for promoters.
This imbalance - which in the pop music world is driving a reckless rise in ticket prices for audiences - puts jazz curators in a bind, because on one hand there's a wish not to burden the audience, and on the other, the books are harder to balance.
And the production costs for specific events "outside the theater's black box" are far from negligible: technically, because setting up unconventional venues means starting from scratch; artistically, because you have to allow for longer rehearsals and residencies; and from a safety standpoint - speaking from an Italian perspective -every public performance venue then has to be certified, and those costs aren't exactly trivial either.
It's something that does get done, but it isn't always scalable or sustainable.
We also need to step back and look at the broader system, and on this point, the work I've done in recent years as director of a production center (called WeStart, affiliated with NovaraJazz - put simply, an organization that invests in live productions to make them more original and innovative) has given me further food for thought.
Every "special project" - and there's extensive literature on this in the worlds of dance and contemporary theater, which are further "ahead" than music - is a wonderful moment for artists, audiences, and the local community, but very often risks being an isolated episode, a parenthesis in an artist's career and finances.
Since it's often "one-of-a-kind" and can't be replicated (and other creative festivals prefer to commission a new project with the same artists rather than "buy secondhand" from another festival, unless there's an actual collaboration), the project risks consuming a lot of resources (time, money, labor) that can't then be leveraged for a tour or further performances.
Many artists, especially if they're not local, run into scheduling difficulties: for example, you might want to do a site-specific project with saxophonist X, who's on a European tour but can't afford to keep the rest of the band on hold for 7 days.
Having fewer bands on the program: if it were up to me to sign off on this, I'd do it right away, but there are often local administrators and politicians who wouldn't understand why there are fewer concerts this year than last.
That said, ultimately I'm firmly convinced by your idea (as a curator and educator, I've been working for years on exactly what you're proposing), but the system as a whole - whether out of inertia or genuine complexity - struggles to realign itself with what is, at its core, obvious, and with what music is crying out for so it doesn't turn into a museum piece.
I understand everything you've written here. I have some experience myself (from the production point of view) with different kinds of festivals in Serbia (avant-garde music, visual arts), and with some Creative Europe collaborations as well. But not so much with large-scale jazz festivals, other than talking to people who are directly involved. Your experience and thoughts are of great importance in this regard.
I’ve been listening to to live jazz since 1970 in many different contexts. I do not like the jazz festival venue as it lacks intimacy. I’m also a jazz photographer and have found the local jams that occur in small spaces, sometimes out doors and sometimes in informal bars provide some of the best spaces to understand and enjoy the music best. Fortunately, here in Baltimore and Washington DC we have many places to enjoy jazz up close and preferably with minimum amplification. For acoustic jazz over amplification ruins the experience.
Dear Nikola,
Thank you for your piece, which brings together and articulates some reflections that have been circulating in our field for quite some time.
The fact that the nature of the listening experience is intimately connected to the very essence of live music is evident in the history of jazz itself. Jazz originated in the streets and dance halls and then, in a journey that on the one hand rightfully elevated it to the status of art music, but on the other brought it dangerously close to the dusty rituals of classical music, gradually became music for the concert hall.
Much of today’s music—even when deeply rooted in the great African American tradition—seems to push against this now chronic rigidity of the listening experience, reclaiming the body, the community and, at times, intimacy.
The same is true of the ways in which entertainment and culture are consumed today, as you point out.
Many festivals and concert organisations—you mention Nadin Deventer and Berlin, but this is certainly not limited to that context—are trying to find original ways of reaching new audiences, not only in terms of age, but also in terms of the many groups that are culturally and economically excluded from traditional cultural spaces. This is certainly an issue that curators, first and foremost, need to take on.
I do think, however, that there are a few other elements worth bringing into the discussion. Let me try to summarise them.
1. Economics.
Creating site-specific and genuinely original formats involves costs that are not always easy to sustain. At the same time, the availability of existing infrastructures—concert halls, stages, sound systems, seating, and so on—naturally encourages us to make use of what is already there.
2. The nature of the music.
Some performances require specific acoustic conditions, a certain degree of concentration, and silence—elements that even the most creative and engaging innovations cannot always guarantee. There are forms of listening that are demanding by their very nature, and we should perhaps be careful not to regard that as a problem to be solved.
3. The risk of turning it into just another event.
As happens in many other fields, the search for an original approach can sometimes become more important than the music itself. Innovation can easily turn into a format-driven exercise, where the experience surrounding the music ends up overshadowing the music.
4. The most important factor, in my opinion: the musicians themselves.
They have to want this in the first place—and often they don’t, or simply don’t know how to imagine it. I don’t blame them for that. If you have spent years studying with the goal of eventually playing on a big stage in front of thousands of seated, silent people, and if you have developed your musical language around that kind of experience, it is not easy to suddenly switch gears and imagine something fundamentally different. Especially when the “system”—whether boring or not—is already there to accommodate you, and proposing something new may feel difficult or even risky.
5. The risk of uniqueness.
Unless a new format becomes widely adopted, every “creative” festival tends, to some extent, to seek exclusivity for what it has imagined: the concert for a single spectator, the original and immersive venue, and so on. This inevitably leads to a model based on exclusive production. In the current festival economy—with costs constantly rising and ticket prices unable to absorb the whole burden—that is not exactly easy to sustain.
Having the privilege and responsibility of directing a festival with many unique characteristics—such as its relationship with wineries and the local area, among others—like Jazz&Wine of Peace in Cormons, which I will also write to you about privately at some point, I find myself constantly having to balance creative ideas with the practical, regulatory and safety requirements imposed by national legislation. And unfortunately, that is not always easy.
In any case, I think the questions you raise are important and absolutely worth pursuing. I hope that a closer, more open and trust-based dialogue with artists can help us move in this direction.
Best,
Enrico
Dear Enrico, I really appreciate the valuable comments and thoughts you’ve shared here. You are absolutely right on many points. My line of argument was not that we should find a universal solution for all jazz festivals, but rather precisely that every festival is unique in terms of its structure, reputation, organisation, the venues and locations it operates within.
Solutions for a “curatorial approach”, whatever that might mean in a particular case, would certainly have to take into account the unique circumstances in which a festival exists — and, of course, the wishes of the artists.
Possible solutions could also involve keeping some of the festival’s programme strands conventional, while certain parts of the programme could be open to experimenting with innovative approaches. Certainly, just as curators in the field of visual arts take into account the space and budget available to them when working with a particular gallery or museum, something similar could be said when it comes to a jazz venue.
The only point I would like to address a little further is thesis number 1 — Economics.
In Europe, as we know, many (or even most) jazz festivals have budgets based on multiple sources — from open calls by ministries of culture to various other government funds for culture or tourism. There are also Creative Europe open calls, regional funds, local government budgets, etc. Every festival is different in this respect, but what they have in common is that they do not operate purely according to market logic, since ticket sales cover only a portion of the festival’s overall costs.
If we consider that a festival has a whole range of expenses beyond the bands and musicians themselves — above all production costs (sound, stage, staff, etc.) — I think it would be perfectly reasonable to include curatorial work, as well as the additional production costs related to it, among these “standard” expenses. In other words, not to treat it as a “luxury”, but as something that is as much an integral part of the festival as the sound system or stage lighting.
If the budget is limited, this could mean having a couple fewer bands at the festival. Or perhaps the festival would last one day less. But would that really be a disaster? Does the quantity of a festival necessarily translate into quality?
My personal impression — not necessarily the only correct one — is that at least “economics”, in the most basic sense, should not really be such a major problem, and it can always be adapted to the circumstances of a particular festival. Innovation does not necessarily have to be (too) expensive.
As for points 2–5, I believe your concerns are completely valid.
Dear Nikola, thank you for your reply.
I'll try to offer a few more points that might be useful for the discussion, considering that many festivals in Europe already adopt a curatorial approach like the one you suggest (I'm thinking of Saalfelden, but also Nutshell in Norway, some initiatives in Wrocław, and South Tyrol/Bolzano in Italy, in addition to the festivals I'm involved with, Cormons and NovaraJazz).
Turning to the issue of economics, what you say is certainly correct, and it's true that large European festivals in particular receive public and private funding and don't operate purely according to market logic.
But the situation isn't that simple.
Since the pandemic, we've seen a considerable increase in many costs - technical, transportation, and artist fees as well - an increase that hasn't been matched by a corresponding rise in resources for promoters.
This imbalance - which in the pop music world is driving a reckless rise in ticket prices for audiences - puts jazz curators in a bind, because on one hand there's a wish not to burden the audience, and on the other, the books are harder to balance.
And the production costs for specific events "outside the theater's black box" are far from negligible: technically, because setting up unconventional venues means starting from scratch; artistically, because you have to allow for longer rehearsals and residencies; and from a safety standpoint - speaking from an Italian perspective -every public performance venue then has to be certified, and those costs aren't exactly trivial either.
It's something that does get done, but it isn't always scalable or sustainable.
We also need to step back and look at the broader system, and on this point, the work I've done in recent years as director of a production center (called WeStart, affiliated with NovaraJazz - put simply, an organization that invests in live productions to make them more original and innovative) has given me further food for thought.
Every "special project" - and there's extensive literature on this in the worlds of dance and contemporary theater, which are further "ahead" than music - is a wonderful moment for artists, audiences, and the local community, but very often risks being an isolated episode, a parenthesis in an artist's career and finances.
Since it's often "one-of-a-kind" and can't be replicated (and other creative festivals prefer to commission a new project with the same artists rather than "buy secondhand" from another festival, unless there's an actual collaboration), the project risks consuming a lot of resources (time, money, labor) that can't then be leveraged for a tour or further performances.
Many artists, especially if they're not local, run into scheduling difficulties: for example, you might want to do a site-specific project with saxophonist X, who's on a European tour but can't afford to keep the rest of the band on hold for 7 days.
Having fewer bands on the program: if it were up to me to sign off on this, I'd do it right away, but there are often local administrators and politicians who wouldn't understand why there are fewer concerts this year than last.
That said, ultimately I'm firmly convinced by your idea (as a curator and educator, I've been working for years on exactly what you're proposing), but the system as a whole - whether out of inertia or genuine complexity - struggles to realign itself with what is, at its core, obvious, and with what music is crying out for so it doesn't turn into a museum piece.
Thanks again, and see you soon.
Thanks, Enrico.
I understand everything you've written here. I have some experience myself (from the production point of view) with different kinds of festivals in Serbia (avant-garde music, visual arts), and with some Creative Europe collaborations as well. But not so much with large-scale jazz festivals, other than talking to people who are directly involved. Your experience and thoughts are of great importance in this regard.