face to face 38 MONTEREY COUNTY WEEKLY september 21-27, 2023 www.montereycountyweekly.com As Tim Jackson reflects on 33 years at the Monterey Jazz Festival, formerly as executive director and currently as artistic director, he tells stories about a few different topics. There’s the nonprofit management side of his work, stepping into an organization that he found sorely in need of updating in 1992. There is of course the music, and his own experience as a flutist who had previously played on an MJF stage. And perhaps most importantly, there are relationships—the people who, behind the scenes, make the festival go. Jimmy Lyons was the founder and general manager starting in 1958 until he retired in 1991. Now, as Jackson prepares to retire after his last festival—the 66th—he notes there are two distinct eras, and he and Lyons have each presided over the artistic vision for roughly the same amount of time. They developed a friendship, and they could relate on a personal level; both were the sons of ministers. In its first 15 years, Jackson says MJF’s programming was exciting, but it grew stale as Lyons’ career wound down. “It had become a very predictable festival with no real vision for the future. I thought there were a tremendous amount of possibilities.” He’s leaned into those possibilities in his years at the helm. Next year, Darin Atwater will take over as the artistic director. (Jackson’s contract ends in February, so he can help hand off responsibilities.) Jackson will stay on for now at Kuumbwa Jazz Center in Santa Cruz, which he co-founded; the jazz institution plans to celebrate its 50th anniversary in 2025. Starting a performing arts institution is no easy feat, but he remembers the spirit of those times in 1975: “We were so young, what did it matter if we failed?” Weekly: Were you always a jazz guy? Jackson: I came to jazz through blues. I played rudimentary guitar in a rock ‘n’ roll band in sixth grade—I got to middle school around 1967, the Summer of Love. There was a lot of new stuff out there, a big electric blues revival in Chicago. I started hearing Charlie Musselwhite and Paul Butterfield on the radio, then I started reading about them and their mentors—B.B. King, Muddy Waters. It was sort of a natural progression. I started hearing stuff that was crossover, mostly organ players, then I started moving away from the blues toward jazz. I got into jazz when I was 15. Some people describe jazz as an acquired taste, or music that’s hard to listen to. Is that true? Where I think a love for jazz starts is, it’s an emotional music—you feel something emotionally when you hear it. I feel it emotionally, and also I am in awe of the technical ability of a firstrate jazz musician. The highest-level jazz musician to me is the greatest musician in the world—they have the technical skill to match anybody on their instrument, classical or otherwise, yet they have this incredible imagination that allows them to improvise and create. I think jazz is a music for everybody. If you give jazz attention and focus on it, it reaps huge rewards— emotionally and spiritually and just for fun. I am a big fan of the Jazz Festival after-party at the Hyatt, where musicians get together just to jam. Do you ever show up with your flute? My head is in a very different place—I have to stay focused on the business side, I can’t be thinking about the creative side. Plus, it would be ridiculous for me to get up there with Christian McBride. Yes, I play professionally, but I don’t play on a level that they do. But the after-hang at the Hyatt is like the best of America. It’s completely democratic. You can have George Benson sitting at the bar and some little old lady starts talking to him— everybody is approachable. At the fairgrounds, you can be standing in line for a burrito and Herbie Hancock is right in front of you. Jazz musicians are not in the musical hierarchy of rock and pop. Jazz musicians live in the real world; they travel on commercial airlines. It’s not Taylor Swift or Beyoncé. You made changes right away when you produced your first Monterey Jazz Festival in 1992. What did you do off the bat? The festival, from an operational level and a governance model, was really stuck in the 1960s. It was a model from the stone age, really—no term limits for board members or anything. The easiest part was the music. The production values were under-resourced. I invested in that— brought in the best sound systems, the best pianos, archival recording crews, made the staging and lighting professional. I always made sure production values stayed current. You also had prior experience playing MJF. I thought it was going to be real professional and cool. Then we didn’t get paid very much money; I was surprised how low the bread was. And the production values were terrible—it was surprisingly amateurish to me. It wasn’t an incredible artistic experience. You’ve also broadened the idea of “jazz” and who is featured at the festival. I think of Common and The Roots in recent years, and R&B artist Thundercat coming in 2023. These days, the umbrella of jazz is just getting bigger and bigger and bigger. There is so much music that we call “jazz-adjacent.” Jazz was born of the Black experience—its roots are from Africa, and it’s a uniquely American music. It’s a cultural heritage we should celebrate more. There’s just so much great music, and so many young, hip musicians creating their art under that banner of jazz, or something close to it. You speak about Jimmy Lyons’ identity being wrapped up in the Monterey Jazz Festival, and that making it hard for him to retire. What about your own identity, as you prepare to retire? I remember telling Lori, my wife, when I first came in I could see Jimmy’s struggle: “If I’m not at MJF, then who am I? I am just some dude on the street.” I remember saying to her, “I am not going to allow this to be solely who I am.” Jimmy left MJF and was dead two years later. I never had an identity of myself as being a die-with-your-bootson kind of person. I am going to be 70 next year. I don’t feel old, but it was time for a transition. I really feel like it’s time for a new voice on the artistic side. Jazz has changed in 50 years, and so has the surf scene in Santa Cruz— and that’s what really motivated you to move there. Where’s your favorite break, and how do you avoid the crowds? Sharks Cove at Pleasure Point; I went out yesterday. Now everybody surfs, which is great. I’m not a sour grapes person—if you’re smart, you can always find your times. Curtain Call Tim Jackson led the Monterey Jazz Festival’s vision and modernization for 33 years. This is his last before retiring. By Sara Rubin “Jazz reaps huge rewards—emotionally and spiritually and just for fun.” Tim Jackson grew up in San Jose playing guitar, then upright bass and eventually taught himself flute. He moved to Santa Cruz to study classical flute at Cabrillo College, but mostly to surf. He co-founded Kuumbwa Jazz there in 1975. Daniel Dreifuss MJF 66
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