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Twenty-five years is a long haul. More than a quarter century of an average life expectancy. For this writer that represents the time spent turning out copy for La Scena Musicale.
My involvement with the magazine occurred somewhat serendipitously, in the year leading up to the new millennium. An acquaintance of mine put me in contact with the editor via an associate of his, co-founder of the publication. My first assignment: reviewing a reissue series of contemporary music recordings, a first for its pages. While no authority in this field, I still had an ear for it, so I took to the task, using my 15 years or so of experience as a dedicated music writer. But once the assignment was done, I heard nothing more, at least for the rest of that year. In early 2000, I was approached again by the editor who offered me a rather ambitious two-part feature on the even more ambitious Millennium Symphony (Symphonie du millénaire) set to be staged on the grounds of the Saint-Joseph Oratory that coming June, an event far more grandiose in its staging than its actual musical content.
From that auspicious beginning, I slid gradually into my true field of expertise: jazz and improvised music—the way paved for me by another contributor, who graciously let me take over the column that he started. With not quite a page at my disposal, I was gradually given more space to finally reach a full page, enhanced with visual materials. Now on my way, I brought new contributors into the fold, some as short-lived tryouts, others tagging along for more than a few years.
Looking back now, the five-year stretch beginning in 2007 was surely the pinnacle for the section; over that period the number of pages increased, reaching a peak in May of those years with a focus issue devoted to the national jazz festival scene, produced with a dependable team of writers assisting me (my thanks to all of them!). As the proverbial cherries on top of the sundae, major jazz artists adorned the covers of those two spring editions—the legendary Sonny Rollins and the equally stentorian Branford Marsalis; followed by Maria Schneider and the Lincoln Centre Jazz Orchestra; Dave Holland and Randy Weston; as well as a pair of Canadian stalwarts, Montreal’s André Leroux and Toronto’s Ian Underhill. As the magazine started expanding into markets beyond its home base, it opened the door to talk of events nationwide—and beyond.
The bubble finally burst in 2013, when public-funding cuts strangled the cultural industry on the one hand, while the record industry hit a wall of sorts with the rise of digital streaming platforms on the other. Bearing the brunt of both, the magazine had no choice but to scale down its ambitions, ditto for its jazz section. Returning to its single-page format, this writer soldiered on alone, with occasional guest contributions. Fast-forward to the pandemic, and LSM somehow navigated its way through that storm of uncertainty, turning a dire situation to its advantage by publishing separate hard-copy issues: one for the Quebec market, the other for Toronto.
If the magazine appears fewer times a year (down from the 10 of two decades ago to the current six) there is much to say about quality over quantity, simply by its visual look and the knowledgeable staff of writers, which I am proud to be part of.
Now that I am taking my final bow, no need to worry jazz fans: the music will be in good hands. Indeed, as of the coming summer supplement of record reviews (a bonus issue for subscribers), my successor, Félix-Antoine Hamel, who used to be one of my most trusted sidekicks in years past, will be at the helm from now on (take a look at his festival picks in this issue). A saxophonist by avocation with considerable experience in all facets of the music business, he knows his stuff from A to Z (Armstrong to Zorn), or Beiderbecke to Brötzmann as he might say.
As for myself, the current year marks one more milestone, the 40th anniversary of my career as a dedicated music journalist. I count my lucky stars to have met and seen so many of the greats in their prime—many of whom I met in person and wrote feature stories on, for this publication and others. It’s tempting to reminisce, but the prime concern of any journalist is to stay abreast of the times and feel the pulse of the music, which I intend to do, but from now on at a more relaxed pace. For sure there are perks in this line of work (festival and concert accreditations, album promos, musician access), but think twice if you want to make a killing at it. Dizzy once famously said: “I’m paid weekly, very weekly”—or better still, its homonym with an a in lieu of the e.”
If the virus claimed far too many lives—and more than a handful of jazzmen—in its wake, music is one of the rare viruses (maybe the only) that keeps us alive and well, even in troubling times. It was said once: Put a diplomat (or a politician) somewhere, he will make enemies; put a musician somewhere, he will make friends. Blessed be the music, for life without it would be, as Nietzsche so aptly put it, a mistake. If we are all drawn into the current of music at any given time of our lives, it keeps on flowing forever, long after parting ways with it.
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