Jeremy Pelt’s latest record, Tomorrow’s Another Day, marks a “departure from what people have known me to be,” the prolific trumpeter writes. This departure doesn’t alter his approach to performance—his exquisite playing is still the focal point of each tune. Rather, he experiments here with sonic design, shaking up the usual instrumentation, form, and tenor of his compositions.

Brazilian vocalist Jamile Staevie Ayres gracefully shoulders the full weight of the sung poetry for composer/bandleader Mike Holober’s This Rock We’re On: Imaginary Letters (Palmetto Records).

What Hilary Gardner wanted most growing up was to move to New York City and sing jazz. But she lived in a small town in rural Alaska, and “the first music I ever got paid to sing was Patsy Cline covers at dive bars,” she revealed to the sold-out room at Manhattan’s Birdland Theater on March 3rd.

Composer Maria Schneider opened the sleek black box and placed it on a coffee table in her Manhattan apartment. Inside lay the vinyl LPs comprising Decades, her new compilation release, with each of the three discs tucked into its own brightly colored jacket. As deliciously rich as this packaging is, it only begins to tell the story of Schneider’s formidable contributions to jazz.  

Singer-songwriter Norah Jones titled her newest LP Visions after those bouncing, hypnogogic impressions that thwart sleep. Its appeal derives from Jones’ dream-inspired musical imaginings.

Each of the 18 instrumental tracks on pianist Sullivan Fortner’s new album Solo Game (ARTR) was a first take—with no second takes, says Fred Hersch, Fortner’s former mentor and one of the album’s producers, in the audio liner notes. Such finesse in the studio requires extreme technical prowess, yes—but it also demands a limitless wealth of improvisational ideas. In this, Fortner has few peers.

Australian composer/arranger Myles Wright chose the repertoire for his latest self-produced release, Gamer, with particular care. He was adapting classic gaming soundtracks for jazz orchestra and these tunes, though utterly captivating, didn’t always translate easily into the modern jazz vernacular.

“I’ve been writing forever, but this album is my real birth as a songwriter,” writes Dominican/French jazz singer Cyrille Aimée in the notes for A Fleur de Peau, her Whirlwind debut released last month. The album represents a departure for Aimée, not just for its originality and new business relationship, but for its personal backstory and strong message.

Moor Mother says a lot with just a few words: In a mere nine tracks she manages to encapsulate the centuries-long reckoning between the British monarchy and the millions of people it enslaved. On The Great Bailout, Moor Mother’s ninth studio album, this reckoning is more than a poetic revelation, though it is that, too. It’s a veritable tally of the costs—physical, psychological, perpetual—exacted by the Atlantic slave trade.

You would hardly suspect that Hilary Gardner, one third of the smashing vocal jazz trio Duchess, grew up in the (comparative) wilds of Alaska, immersed in country music and Western swing. But on her newest record, On the Trail With the Lonesome Pines, she not only digs into this musically rich past but reveals how it informs her musically astute present.

Pianist/composer Sean Mason lives in New York City—he moved there in 2018 to attend Juilliard—but he remains deeply immersed in the rich cultural heritage of his hometown of Charlotte, North Carolina. He summons this birthright on The Southern Suite , one of the most impressive debuts of last year.

When Nora York died in 2016 at the age of 60, she left behind an distinguished body of creative works: theatrical performance pieces, commissioned concert compositions, soundtracks, several jazz albums (including one with bandleader Maria Schneider), and one TED talk. Her warmly colored voice, at once soothing and challenging, proved an apt vehicle for her boundlessly eclectic ideas. These ideas have only grown in relevance over the years—as evidenced by Rain (Good Mood Records), a 10-track collection of York’s later creations.

On her fourth album as a leader, Two Moons, singer/composer Michelle Lordi entertains a fascination with shape-shifting things:  dreams, celestial bodies, natural forces, supernatural beings. It would be easy to fall into the dystopian visions that she conjures with these tunes—except that Lordi’s voice itself telegraphs optimism and charm. The dissonance between this vocal presentation and the content of her tunes is mesmerizing.

Last October, singer Samara Joy posted a personal video on her social media. In it, her grandfather, Elder Goldwire McLendon, is singing “It Is Well With My Soul,” surrounded by relatives gathered in a diner to celebrate his 93rd birthday. At the chorus, the family begins to harmonize in an impromptu gospel concert. The snippet, not even a minute and a half long, received about 4 million views on TikTok. Joy had only joined the platform in January of 2022.

Last year, singer/songwriter Ann Hampton Callaway entered the Women Songwriters Hall of Fame for her many contributions to jazz and traditional pop music. Callaway started out in New York’s cabaret scene in the 1980s, accompanying herself on piano; her specialty was tunes that tear your heart into shreds.  

So many female histories are forgotten—if they were ever noted to begin with. On COIN COIN Chapter Five: in the garden (Constellation), composer and multi-instrumentalist Matana Roberts not only asserts this truth but seeks to remedy at least one such omission.

It’s hard to believe that Artemis is only six years old. Not just for the group’s rapid ascent into the jazz firmament, but for its players’ cool-headed resilience in the face of tectonic change.

Pent-up demand? Rampant escapism? A sudden groundswell of goodwill? For some reason, an unprecedented number of thematic vocal jazz performances and releases come to New York this holiday season.

The title cut of Night Birds (Robalo), the third duo album by vocalist Sara Serpa and guitarist André Matos, borrows its sounds from the evening darkness—rustling leaves, hooting calls, whispers.  Both Serpa and Matos excel at parsing lower amplitudes, so you expect the quiet. What comes as a surprise is the tune’s animation: For these two composers, the hidden world of nighttime is anything but asleep.

A year ago October, Leopoldo “Pucho” Escalante, a heralded trombonist from the golden age of Cuban jazz, passed away in New York City, two months shy of his 102nd birthday. Though largely overlooked today, Pucho and his older brother Luis made a lasting imprint on Latin jazz, not just for their ground-breaking musicianship, but for their mentorship of the next generation of influential players.