Article by Todd Matthews

It seemed an unconventional place to listen to jazz -- a large museum tucked amid the trees and mansions of Seattle's Capitol Hill neighborhood. But on an unseasonably warm evening in September, with the sun setting on the art deco facade of the Seattle Asian Art Museum -- the sky a pink ribbon framing the Space Needle in the distance -- more than two-dozen people gathered in the tiled Fuller Garden Court to listen to saxophonist Steve Griggs, bassist Jeff Johnson, and percussionist Greg Campbell perform original works. The performance was part of a series sponsored in part by the Earshot Jazz organization. "The museum is a fertile performance environment," Griggs said, commenting on the room's art work of centuries-old Hindu gods, representations of Buddha, and marble and sandstone sculptures. When Griggs approached Earshot with an idea for their concert series, he was excited about the opportunity to perform original music in a performance space other than a supper club or bar.

Steve Griggs (photograph by Kate Kulzer)

Seeking out the unconventional venue in Seattle has proved rewarding for Griggs -- and countless other area musicians. The economics of working as a jazz musician in this city are challenging for many performers. Finding gigs . . . actively promoting one's music . . . networking with other musicians . . . establishing professional relationships with club owners and promoters -- all are time-consuming, yet necessary, responsibilities for contemporary jazz musicians.

"I don't know how they do it," Griggs told me, enjoying a post-performance beer at the Hopvine Pub, while a young jazz quintet wailed in the corner. He was referring to the elite cadre of full-time musicians working in the Pacific Northwest. "The pay is so bad, the audience is so small. I can't afford to be a full-time musician. I've got a day job. A lot of people think music should be free . . . . 'Artists are doing what they want -- why should they make any money?' I can't figure out how art, being a musician myself, fits into society." Griggs paused. "Thousands of people are putting out CDs and playing in clubs, despite the economics of it. People love to do it. They like to participate in it. I love it so much."

It is a perplexing question: How does one merge art and commerce? Music -- in this case, jazz -- is a passion for many, a career for a select few. Among the musicians I spoke with, all agreed that performing was something they loved. Connecting with one's audience, jamming with other musicians -- there is a euphoric high, nearly palpable for many, that transcends money. Yet, building an audience and staying busy in the jazz scene requires more than passion and a love for music. One must also strategize in order to make ends meet and pursue the goal of actively performing in order to earn a living.

"I see the work of a performing musician as similar to a farmer," says local pianist Jovino Santos Neto. "You have this land and it's up to you to plant the seeds and follow up on their development. Sometimes you have to wait a long time, years maybe, until you get to harvest the results of your hard labor. It's definitely not easy. But in my case, I would shrivel and dry up if I did not play regularly in front of people. If you can keep a positive attitude and be responsible with your career, eventually things will work out."

How does a musician make it in Seattle's jazz scene? The answer is not simple. The first step, according to the majority of the musicians I interviewed, is universal: Jump into the scene! "Go to the regular jam sessions," says Griggs. "Get to know musicians . . . drum up work . . . hire people." According to Griggs, Seattle can be a favorable environment for musicians. "Jazz is so prevalent in this community that some people may take it for granted," he says. "It's not like that everywhere." Griggs cites strong community support, two dedicated local jazz publications (Earshot and Jazz Steps), area schools both with an emphasis in cultivating the music and teaching jazz to students (Garfield High School, in particular), and revered jazz venues and stores (Tula's and Jazz Alley; Bud's Jazz Records, respectively). "This community has a lot going for it," says Griggs. "There is a lot here for the size of the community. When I was living in the Midwest, there was one jazz gig per week in the entire town. I'm not saying it's a jazz Mecca here, but I've lived in places where there is a lot less going on."

Indeed, Seattle has much to offer the local musician. Patrick Thomas, writing in Sounds of Seattle magazine, observes, "The advent of the Internet, a flood of investment money into the region and the simplicity of creating CDs for less money than ever before means there's a lot more product, a lot more places to play and a lot more media in which to expose them through. Media outlets have more than quadrupled in terms of where a CD or artist might be featured . . . . Not since the days when Jackson Street was a popular jazz magnet has the Puget Sound seen so many jazz venues."

Jazz vocalist Kelley Johnson, who has performed at Bumbershoot, Ellensburg Jazz Festival, and Wild Ginger, and will be performing at Bake's Place later this month, told me, "In general you are playing for musically educated people. They are a fairly discerning crowd. There is a lot of artistic pursuit in the jazz community in Seattle -- more than in other cities. I think most people are trying to pursue art here. Seattle is more of an art town than a working town. I think that's why a lot of people go to New York and don't stay, or keep their ties in Seattle, because they are impressed with the level of musicianship here."

Still, that does not mean that everyone gets a gig, according to many performers. There are only so many venues in Seattle for the large number of area musicians. Simple competition is not the only factor for what some musicians view as limited opportunities to perform. The jazz scene is "somewhat fractured," according to local pianist Hans Brumner. "Everyone wants what few gigs are out there," says Brumner. "A lot of musicians are a little protective of their gigs." If someone lines up a regular, weekly gig at a local club or bar, he or she may not be very willing to share the venue with others. It's an understandable stance, according to Brumner, but not solely the result of selfishness.

"Seattle has lost a substantial number of performance opportunities recently," adds vocalist Johnson. "They were places for people to work stuff out. With a loss of more casual venues, there is more competition. More people are wanting to gig, and are ready to gig. The climate is more competitive. I think that you can work here, but the gigs are more precious . . . they are few and far between. In some ways that's good -- it forces people to present art."

Griggs, the saxophonist, has similar thoughts. Though the opportunities exist, securing regular gigs is challenging in a competitive environment such as Seattle's jazz scene. Indeed, lining up a weekly gig allows an individual the opportunity to draw a crowd. But how fulfilling is it to perform once a week? "It's nice to have a weekly gig, but it's hard to keep the momentum," says Griggs. "Imagine playing basketball one night a week. You would start to gel and play sloppy ball. When I look at the energy and time it takes, it would be wonderful to have more performance opportunities." A musician has to create his or her own opportunities, says Griggs, rather than compete with others for a prized venue. "In New York City," he adds, "it's not about going into venues that exist. It's about creating new venues." Griggs describes a scene where a group of musicians rent a performance hall, split the ticket prices, and play different music on different nights.

Drawing an audience is the "fundamental thing" that pianist Brumner says he is up against. "Our culture has moved away from going out to get entertainment because there are so many forms of entertainment," he says. "Jazz is not a popular music. Few people are interested in live jazz music. Club owners won't hire a band if they can't recoup any of the money. One of the biggest challenges is trying to make business happen in an area where there is not a whole lot of an audience."

Brumner's comments are discouraging, but honest. As with most creative pursuits, no one enters the creative arena with the guarantee that he or she will 'make it.' According to Griggs, it takes more than just talent and hard work. "A lot of it is luck," he says.

Finding work at area jazz clubs is just one small part of succeeding as a full-time musician. Many musicians agree that diversifying one's experiences in the music community is key. Working at a radio station, teaching music at area schools, and volunteering at local concerts serve as catalysts for networking within the scene. Neto, the pianist, performs at local clubs, but also mixes his interests. He is an Associate Professor of Music at Cornish College of the Arts, and an active member of both the National and Latin Academies of Recording Arts and Sciences. "The scene changes a lot," says Neto. "There are times when I get called a lot, and times when I just stare at the phone. I have not been able to predict when the tide is high or low. I try to diversify my work by expanding my musical work as a composer, arranger, teacher and producer. I also decided from the start to open several 'fronts' of work. I travel regularly to the Bay area, New York, my home in Brazil, and Europe, trying to maintain a steady, if not frequent, presence." This involves more work, says Neto, but he likes to travel and finds pleasure in working in different places.

Earning a living solely from club gigs is difficult. Many musicians support their love of music with day jobs -- some within the industry, others outside the industry. Vocalist Johnson finds the majority of her work performing at private events. She has also taught workshops at the Port Townsend Jazz Festival. The pay for a standard club gig is minimal -- $60-$100, according to the musicians with whom I spoke -- especially considering the time and effort spent securing the gig and setting up for the performance. "We joke around that that's what we get paid for: setting up and tearing down," says Brumner, laughing. "Performing is what we enjoy."

"I feel responsible for the musicians I work with," says Griggs. "I'm lucky to call these guys. I feel responsible that they get paid for their work." Griggs adds, bluntly, "Thank goodness musicians are willing to create our culture at their own expense."

Similarly, the pianist Neto says, "If you divide the [rate of pay] not only by the performing hours, but by the time spent in practicing, rehearsing, getting the gig and promoting it, plus all the regular expenses of being a musician, you will find that the net hourly pay for these gigs falls way below the minimum wage. There are a lot of people competing for gigs, and that means that some people will play for next to nothing. On the other hand, if you have a regular gig, even if it doesn't pay a lot, it provides an opportunity for a band to really coalesce and tighten up, and for material to be 'road tested' in front of an audience."

Many musicians have found that starting their own label, and selling their own compact discs, is a viable source of income -- though the performer clearly must operate as a businessperson. When Griggs recorded with the legendary jazz musician Elvin Jones, he decided to start his own recording label -- Hip City Music. Griggs soon received a crash-course in the challenge of operating a small business while pursuing his passion. He quickly learned the financial drain associated with small sales. "I turned into a business person, but it was the stupidest business to be in," he says. "The more business-like I became, the more I had to deal with reality. I tried to sell CDs at performances, but really didn't like to mix the two."

Griggs sums up his experience as a musician-businessman with an anecdote. When he explained to one of his musical peers that he was starting a record label, his colleague said, "My advice to you is rob a bank and leave the country."

Challenges truly exist for the jazz musician working in Seattle. Yet, the music calendars remain active and full. Nearly all musicians agree that performing and sharing their passion for music is the impetus for continuing to work in the field.

"Some people have the ability to say, 'This is the work and I am going to do whatever it takes,'" observes Griggs. "I admire that. I am a father. I want to put my son to bed every night, and be there when he wakes up." Still, Griggs enjoys writing music; a live performance completes the writing process, he says. "As an artist, I'm interested in doing something related to my influences, yet going to where my soul is coming from. I like the feel of making sound . . . the group interaction . . . being in the moment of the performance."

And for Neto, it's much simpler and, admittedly, beautiful. "I believe that music is not only entertainment, but it is a basic staple item for humanity, as essential as water, food or air. Musicians, as providers of this 'vibrational' commodity, have the responsibility to give their best possible performance."

Part One | 'Farming The Land' In Seattle's Jazz Scene
Part Two | 'Creating A Vibe' At Seattle's Jazz Clubs
Part Three | 'Taking Care Of Business': Promoting Jazz In Seattle

This article originally appeared in Jazz Steps and All About Jazz