People ask this more than you’d think.
As a jazz guitarist, in a world full of standards, playlists, algorithms, and “content,” why bother writing original music at all? The honest answer is: because I don’t know how not to.
Standards Are the Language. Standards are the foundation of jazz. I’ve learned harmony, form, time feel, and discipline from them. I still love playing them. But standards tell someone else’s story.
Writing original jazz music is where I’m forced to tell the truth.
Writing Original Music Keeps Me Honest. When I write, I’m not trying to be clever or chase novelty. I’m responding to where I am musically. A melody hangs around. A groove insists. A harmonic turn feels inevitable.
Composing original music removes the safety net. There’s no reference recording. No agreed-upon way it’s “supposed” to go. You find out quickly what you actually believe about feel, space, and time.
On the bandstand, original music sharpens listening.
When players aren’t recreating something familiar, they take responsibility for the sound. That’s when a band starts to sound like itself, not a tribute to something else.
It’s Harder — and That’s the Point
Original music is harder to sell. Harder to explain. Harder to categorise. It doesn’t always get an instant reaction. But the reactions it does get tend to last. Over time, those tunes become part of a shared language — a body of work that reflects who you actually are.
Why I Keep Writing
I still write original music because it keeps everything alive.
It stops me from coasting. It reminds me why I picked up the guitar in the first place. I don’t just want to interpret the music I love. I want to add something to the conversation — even if it’s imperfect, even if only a few people hear it. That feels worth doing.
