For bassist Kelsey Mines, Seattle's jazz scene became her musical family after discovering the vibrant session scene at venues like The Racer Sessions and The Royal Room, where musicians were encouraged to experiment and collaborate.
For trumpeter Thomas Marriott, it's where he first experienced the transformative power of mentorship, sneaking into Pioneer Square clubs as a teenager to hear the masters play. For pianist Wayne Horvitz, who moved to Seattle in the 1990s after years as a fixture of New York's downtown avant-garde scene, it's where he found the freedom to establish new creative spaces.
But maintaining a vibrant jazz community in Seattle today requires constant adaptation, intentional effort — and a delicate balance between honoring traditions and embracing change.
Emotional support for economic challenges
As the city has transformed through waves of tech-driven growth and soaring costs, local artists have had to find new ways to keep their musical tribe together and create opportunities for meaningful connection.
Seattle is routinely ranked among cities with the highest cost of living in the nation, and according to a 2023 survey of 140 arts organizations in the greater Seattle area, ticket sales remained down more than 60% compared to pre-pandemic times.
For jazz musicians, these local pressures compound national challenges. Various industry sources say jazz accounts for only 2-4% of annual recording sales in the United States, making it increasingly difficult for artists to sustain careers solely through performance.
"Seattle has always been this place to me that, if you want to do something, no one is going to stand in your way," said Jessica Davis, founder of Seattle Women in Jazz, an organization that produces concerts and educational programs while advocating for greater gender equity in jazz.
She discovered the scene in the early 2000s at the New Orleans Creole Restaurant in Pioneer Square, where legendary trumpeter Floyd Standifer, a pillar of Seattle jazz since the 1950s, held court with his weekly performances.
"It became the family I needed," Davis said.
That sense of family – of finding one's tribe through the music – runs through conversations with Seattle's jazz artists. But it's a family that requires active nurturing and sometimes tough love to maintain its bonds, especially as rising costs push artists out of traditional cultural neighborhoods.
"We can't separate the economics from the emotional and social aspects of what we do," explained bassist Nate Omdal, president of the American Federation of Musicians, Local 76-493.
"So much of what we seek emotional support for is drawn from the challenges we have economically."
He pointed out that musicians supporting each other through financial hardships and career obstacles has become a crucial part of the community's DNA.
This might mean anything from organizing benefit concerts for fellow musicians facing medical bills to creating new performance opportunities when venues close – even supporting each other’s crowdfunding campaign to fund new projects.
A new generation of musical mentors
The intergenerational transfer of knowledge – both musical and practical – has traditionally been one of the scene's great strengths. This connection helped older musicians teach younger ones, creating a rich mix of musical knowledge and experience.
"When I was coming up, I knew all the musicians in town, no matter what kind of jazz they played," Marriott remembered.
But maintaining those mentorship channels has become increasingly challenging. As revered elders like bassist Buddy Catlett, saxophonist Hadley Caliman, and Standifer have passed on, some worry about gaps in the tradition. These musicians weren't just performers – they were living links to Seattle's rich jazz history, having played with everyone from Count Basie to Quincy Jones.
"We don't really have that anymore," Marriott noted. "And the breakdown in that has become a huge problem."
The diminishing of these mentorship opportunities coincides with broader changes in how jazz is learned and taught, with formal education often replacing the traditional apprenticeship model of learning on the bandstand. Yet new forms of mentorship and support continue to emerge.
"We don't do it for the money. We do it for the spiritual rewards."Thomas Marriott
Trombonist Naomi Moon Siegel, who now lives in Missoula, Montana, but maintains strong ties to Seattle through regular performances and recording projects, found crucial early guidance from established players when she arrived in Seattle.
"There were definitely certain people that I felt took me under their wing right away," she recalled.
Siegel said Hans Teuber, a multi-instrumentalist known for his work with Wayne Horvitz and Bill Frisell, supported her right off the bat and got her recording session gigs. And legendary trombonist Julian Priester, who taught at Cornish College of the Arts and played with Sun Ra, Max Roach, and Herbie Hancock, was very warm when she first moved to town.
The spiritual aspects of creating and sharing jazz remain central to many artists' experience of community.
"Why do we play jazz music? Let's step back. We don't do it for the money. We do it for the spiritual rewards," Marriott said.
"Fellowship being one of those spiritual rewards, that feeling of togetherness, the ungendered feeling of brotherhood or sisterhood."
Musician-led solutions
To nurture these deeper aspects of musical community, several artists have launched new initiatives aimed at strengthening connections and creating sustainable infrastructure for the scene. This continues a long tradition of musician-led community building in Seattle.
In 2011, Horvitz partnered with venue owners Tia Matthies and Steve Freeborn to open The Royal Room in Columbia City, designing it specifically to serve performers by outfitting the space with musical equipment, recording capabilities, and creating a welcoming environment for musicians and audiences.
The Seattle Jazz Fellowship, founded by Marriott in 2020, now operates from a pop-up venue in Pioneer Square, bringing jazz back to the neighborhood where he first heard the music as a teenager. The Fellowship focuses on building community through regular performance opportunities, mentorship, and creating accessible spaces for musicians and listeners.
Seattle Women in Jazz, under Davis' leadership, creates platforms for women artists while fostering unity and challenging gender biases. Their "International Women in Jazz" concert at the Royal Room, a collaboration with the Seattle-Kobe Sister City Association, exemplifies their mission to build bridges both within and beyond the local scene.
The community has also had to adapt its gathering spaces and rituals. While legendary venues like Tula's in Belltown – long a hub for straight-ahead jazz and big bands – have closed, new spots have emerged.
Mines pointed to positive developments like trumpeter Ray Larsen's series at the Oxbow Bakery in the Montlake neighborhood and Marriott's work with the Jazz Fellowship. These new venues often emphasize accessibility and community engagement. Oxbow even offers an all-ages environment where families can experience live jazz.
"What's cool is there are people in the scene who are taking initiative," Mines said. "I think there is this shift of musicians wanting to be more wholesome in their ability to play music and not have it just be a late night dive bar vibe because that is not very sustainable."
Regular jam sessions anchor the weekly calendar: the Seattle Jazz Fellowship hosts sessions every Monday in Pioneer Square, while Couth Buzzard Books in Greenwood opens its space for jazz jams twice monthly.
Sustaining Seattle's jazz community
Moving forward requires individual commitment and collective action.
"If we don't start supporting our own art form, if we don't support each other as musicians, we're never going to get anywhere as a community," Marriott said. "We have to support the music where it happens."
This might mean attending colleagues' performances, mentoring younger musicians, or contributing to initiatives that create new performance opportunities.
For Omdal, this means remembering that the community's strength lies in its interconnectedness.
"We look at our colleagues and our peers and our employees and our employers, and in the same breath, they are friends and our family and the people we went to school with and the folks that we build a community with," he said.
"It's an ecosystem, and you can't take one piece out without expecting the rest of it to be affected."
This understanding drives his work with the musicians' union, advocating for fair wages and working conditions that allow artists to sustain their careers in an increasingly expensive city.
Despite the challenges, there's cautious optimism about the scene's future, particularly when artists come together to create new opportunities and support structures.
As Davis noted about her work with Seattle Women in Jazz: "We do this because it's something we believe in, we want to share something special with the community, and we want to see it continue."
Seattle's jazz musicians keep finding ways to work and grow together, even as the city changes around them. While beloved venues close and costs push artists to new neighborhoods, the community rebuilds. Today's players create fresh spaces and connections across the city, carrying forward their musical family's spirit.
