People behind the beat consider the future of jazz in the Circle City

Indianapolis' jazz vitality reached its zenith in the middle decades of the last century -- mostly centered on Indiana Avenue.

But population shifts, changes in entertainment technology and leisure-time choices soon began to cast a shadow.

Now, with the recent deaths of several of the city's jazz icons, the question of how Indianapolis' jazz heritage will be carried forward continues to linger.

Scroll back to the beginning of the decade and the roster of the departed, Indianapolis jazz division, starts illustriously with the death of trombonist J.J. Johnson in February 2001.

Bandleader-saxophonist Jimmy Coe died in February 2004; saxophonist Alonzo "Pookie" Johnson, a fixture on the old Indiana Avenue scene, in September 2005. Another saxophonist, Russell Webster, joined them in the hall of the immortals in 2007. Last year also brought the end of the legendary Hampton Sisters with the deaths of bassist Virtue Hampton Whitted and singer-pianist Aletra Hampton.

And just last month, drummer-educator Jack Gilfoy died unexpectedly in his sleep.

These musicians don't lack talented successors. They're missed for what they contributed as individuals, not so much because the availability of jazz here has shrunk as a result of their deaths.

The accompanying stories present five perspectives on the city's current and future jazz scene from knowledgeable members of the community.

But the American Pianists Association may have a perspective that is both inside and outside. The APA presents the annual Indy Jazz Fest, which concludes its 10th year today.

Joel Harrison, APA's artistic director, said the local festival's programming is "a multicolored canvas that we deal with, and almost one-third of our 18 spots on the schedule are devoted to local artists."

However, talk has arisen outside the APA camp of starting another jazz fest focusing on local musicians. Harrison acknowledges that Indy Jazz Fest can't go further in that direction.

In addition to signing big-name acts that bring people through the gate, he said, the APA's mission of fostering burgeoning U.S. musicians means that little-known artists of merit from outside the area will continue to get places on the schedule.

That said, Harrison assesses a bright jazz future for Indianapolis, based on strong jazz education here and in Bloomington, two viable nightclubs devoted to jazz (plus restaurants that use small jazz groups for atmosphere) and the Indiana Avenue heritage that is reflected today in occasional jazz programming at the Madame Walker Theatre Center, Clowes Hall and the Indiana Roof Ballroom.

Monika Herzig: Jazz instrumentalist, educator

Monika Herzig has been there -- in grade-school classrooms talking about jazz, getting first-time reactions from kids about an influential kind of music that's persistently out of the pop-culture spotlight.

She knows that part of the difficulty of the music's future in this area is its invisibility -- or, perhaps, its inaudibility.

"Once, you kind of had jazz as part of your environment," she said in an interview from her office at Indiana University, where she teaches jazz and music marketing. "Then it kind of disappeared. On TV, the record companies try to place songs on the shows and it's always the pop side of things. There's no chance for (jazz) music to get through."

The German-born pianist-composer, who lives in Bloomington, has made her way in the Central Indiana jazz scene through a variety of performing gigs and lots of work in schools.

Until funding ran out last year, Herzig co-led the JazzWorks series of jam sessions and clinics for student musicians at the Junior Achievement headquarters on Keystone Avenue.

Herzig has gone beyond collecting enthusiastic responses from schoolchildren who have no prior knowledge of jazz. She's developed curricular materials to help boost jazz's presence in school music programs, too. But, for those who grow up here, developing skills and enthusiasm for jazz and wanting to remain in Indiana, there's not much prospect of green pastures.

"It's not even a handful" who are full-time jazz musicians, she said. "Some have moneymaking ventures. We've done it for the last 15 years, but you have to be very versatile, and some work in dance bands.

"Bloomington is tough because it's little and there is such a wealth of musicians," she said. "Payment is tough. You could get the finest jazz band every day there; in terms of artistic growth, it's incredible. But to make money, we go to Indianapolis."

Between the two Indiana cities, there is not enough work, said Herzig. She sees the likelihood of some of the younger talent moving away. Among the standouts who have emerged here over the past decade, Herzig mentioned saxophonists Jason Curry, Ryan Imboden and Sophie Faught, bassist Brandon Meeks and clarinetist Shawn Plonski.

JazzWorks set up jam sessions to help student musicians learn the craft, but until it can secure funding elsewhere, that outlet for improvement and mutual support will be lost. Adult musicians who've put down roots here may be in straitened circumstances for a while.

"I think it will probably be tough for half a year or longer, then hopefully things will move up," Herzig said. Among the hopeful signs: the launch of Owl Studios as a recording showcase for local jazz musicians. "With people like Al Hall (the label's proprietor) in town, I think we'll see things improve."

Herzig, 44, made her way into the local scene as a young adult. She found little complaining about opportunities among veterans of the scene, some of whom now number among Indianapolis immortals.

"It's interesting the older ones never complain," she recalled. "They always tell me where they've been playing. They've managed to keep things going. They were always most encouraging: Jimmy Coe had me play with his big band. And Pookie (Johnson) was the same way."

Some loosely jazz-linked music goes over here in different settings, but musicians have to compromise to stay employable. "In a restaurant, you're creating an atmosphere -- you're not there to play the most 'out' solo you can. And if you play a wedding, that's not the place to play all your Monk tunes.

"What Indianapolis could do is provide a few more creative opportunities," like a secondary jazz festival focusing on local talent, she said.

Brent Wallarab: Co-founder, Buselli-Wallarab Jazz Orchestra

Trombonist-arranger-bandleader Brent Wallarab knows whom to credit for the prospects of Indianapolis jazz: club owners David Andrichik (Chatterbox Jazz Club) and David Allee (the Jazz Kitchen).

"Indianapolis needs a fertile environment for the music to grow -- to be nurturing and supportive of those artists who choose to make Indy their home," Wallarab said. "If those two guys woke up one morning and decided they didn't want to run jazz clubs anymore, where would we be?"

Wallarab, 44, newly appointed to full-time faculty status at the Indiana University Jacobs School of Music, has insight into prevailing standards of quality through longtime duties as trombonist, arranger and chief transcriber for the Smithsonian Jazz Masterworks Orchestra.

He named four local musicians in mid- to late career who rank as equals with jazzmen anywhere: Frank Glover, Claude Sifferlen, Steve Allee and Rob Dixon. There are others who form a capable nucleus of dedicated jazz musicians, and they could probably do more to aid their own cause, he said, including turning out for each other's performances.

Also needed is an all-ages venue: "Many students would come out several times a week to hear who's in the club," he said. "It's just a shame there aren't more public open forums."

With trumpeter Mark Buselli, Wallarab founded the Buselli-Wallarab Jazz Orchestra in 1994. It acquired a structure with a board of directors later in the decade. The band launched, but was unable to make a success of a subscription concert series, which was suspended two years ago.

"We never found a board that could make this a secure entity," Wallarab said.

Stable personnel, including top area musicians in academic jazz, plus showcases for much-admired local singers like Everett Greene and Cynthia Layne, have nonetheless given the BWJO a secure niche in Indianapolis jazz history.

A group drawn from the BWJO, the Midcoast Swing Orchestra, attracts dancers to the Jazz Kitchen on Tuesday nights. Wallarab is happy to maintain that presence, because it's a real jazz gig for the musicians, without the most commercial tunes ("You won't hear us play 'In the Mood,'."), as well as an audience-pleaser.

The full BWJO is active in the studio -- "to get our music beyond Indianapolis and recognized in major publications" -- and has three recordings planned for this year alone. Musicians come to him wanting to get into the band, he said, but BWJO membership is stable, in part because players can find music jobs in area schools and universities.

"The best of the young musicians recognize they have a lot to get out of Indianapolis, living here and learning from others," said Wallarab. "But those who've been here a while feel we're hanging on for dear life."

This precarious feeling comes at a crucial time for the city's reputation.

"There's a national buzz again about Indianapolis," Wallarab said. "The word just has to get out: 'This is what's happening -- this is good.' We can all say, 'I'm really great,' but there should be outside voices saying, 'You should be listening to this music.'."

David Allee: Owner, the Jazz Kitchen

Motivated to improve the stature of jazz in Indianapolis, David Allee looks to the future without pointing the finger elsewhere.

"Ultimately, it would start within the jazz community -- there's no other entity -- to address the lack of recognition jazz seems to get," he said.

Allee, who hosted a rare summit meeting in April with Indianapolis' jazz community to discuss how to unify behind the music's promotion, also believes that more room to nurture jazz talent must be found.

"The scene has to be larger to keep young talent," he said. "It has to be viable from a business standpoint. I wouldn't want to see 10 new venues go in next week!"

For his business model, committed to bringing in national acts while providing some room on the regular schedule for locals, Allee is wary of a scattershot approach. He threads quite a few regulars into his schedule.

Why? "Simplicity is achieved for the listener, and we can nurture a crowd who'll come back," said Allee, proprietor of the 14-year-old club, 5377 N. College Ave.

Quality is the watchword, and there are some local performers Allee prefers to avoid. He feels pressure from some musicians to make prized weekend dates available, but "nobody covets a $50 gig during the week."

"We've picked the top talent," he said: "I feel strongly about Frank (Glover) and Claude (Sifferlen)," who with a bassist and drummer have held down the Monday-night slot for many years.

Dealing with reality means that musicians must remain versatile, always ready to work outside jazz to make a living.

Growing up with veteran pianist Steve Allee as his father, David Allee is aware that musicians hanging out with each other in home basements and honing their craft is a thing of the past.

So is the five-nights-a-week engagement a core of musicians once were able to hold down.

"Things all the way around have tightened up," he said.

David Andrichik: Owner, The Chatterbox

The Chatterbox has worn the neighborhood bar label proudly since David Andrichik bought the place 26 years ago.

That was hardly a stretch: Much of the building's history since its construction in 1896 has been linked with sociability, alcoholic beverages and proximity to work and home.

But what has allowed the hole-in-the-wall tavern (capacity: 75) at 435 Massachusetts Ave. to carve a niche in the hearts of jazz-lovers is its invariable jazz music policy, growing to seven nights a week until a cutback on Mondays and Tuesdays earlier this year.

Love of the music drove Andrichik in the jazz direction, and he also needed an attraction to bring in a late-night clientele that his predecessors had not bothered to develop.

After-work patrons were a steady fixture at the club, but the crowd thinned out as midnight approached. "Jazz has helped me in a business sense," Andrichik said.

Bad weather this spring led to an unexpected dip in patronage of the club's patio, hurting his bottom line too much to sustain live music the first two nights of the workweek. He's confident an eventually reviving economy will put daily jazz back on the calendar. Nonetheless, he calls the audience for live jazz "pretty small in this city ..... People won't pay for it and seek it out, even if it's high-quality."

Marketing is important, and Andrichik thinks some conventioneers and the international cohort studying or working here could be lured to experience jazz at the Chatterbox.

"We all share some of the blame for not getting people to seek jazz out and honor it," Andrichik said. He is puzzled that jam sessions at the club, an occasional feature over the years with trumpeter Clifford Ratliff or violinist Cathy Morris, are poorly attended.

Of young talent coming up, Andrichik said: "I think we will lose them. The opportunities are so few here. Unless they have a professional degree and a day gig, they can't earn a living doing it."

But he keeps finding them -- people like bassist Brandon Meeks and saxophonist Jared Thompson -- through a process that succeeds because of the fluid rosters of his regularly scheduled bands.

"There are hardly any set groups, partly because they have to play with many different bands (to make a living)," Andrichik explained. "So there's someone sitting in who tells me, 'I've got a group that plays this particular kind of jazz.' It happens all the time."

Andrichik typically goes to see and hear the group before hiring it. He draws the line at amplified bands, suggesting just one microphone ("When that dynamic has happened, it's not the loudness -- it's the energy") and requiring at least three players on the bandstand. Otherwise, he allows his hired musicians artistic freedom.

"There's no shortage of great talent here," he said. "I feel a responsibility to the music and to those who create it in Indianapolis. That's evolved into the signature of the Chatterbox."

Ralph Adams: Jazz DJ

No local voice of jazz more exemplifies the improvisatory spirit than Ralph Adams'.

The longtime disc jockey (now with WICR-FM) and former promoter is a native Chicagoan who has given much of his adult life to advocating for jazz in Indianapolis.

Talking with Adams, 67, is a trip down memory lane -- including his early exposure to classical music and jazz at home and in school -- with riffs on changes in recording and broadcasting, and the difficulty of keeping up with public taste.

"The Internet has given so much to us in terms of options -- I want to reach that audience," Adams said recently at the Jazz Kitchen, shortly after presenting his annual Ralph Adams Lifetime Achievement Awards. "You can't lock an audience in on radio the way you used to. That's a thing of the past."

Adams believes the main obstacle to wider enjoyment of jazz is insufficient education, and he deplores the rejection of the role of entertainer by many jazz musicians.

"A nightclub has to reach across the scale to people who are looking for entertainment," he said.

It's clear that there's nothing clubs can do about part of the problem: Like others interviewed, Adams dislikes the inability of jazz presenters with liquor licenses to admit underage fans. The lack of all-ages venues diminishes the music's chances to recruit fans.

"If you're not able to expose people when they're young, it'll never happen," he said.

Adams has little to say about Indianapolis' loss of bright, young musicians when he believes there is more outreach that needs to be done among those already active.

"If you're not giving back what I'm asking to receive," he says, speaking as an entertainment consumer, "the two sides don't mesh."

Any night before the public is a marketing opportunity, and Adams sees too many jazzers passing it up. Talking engagingly from the bandstand, for instance, could be more common. Going out and shaking hands with members of the audience during breaks would help, too.

"Respect your craft -- and bring them along with you," Adams said.

But some of the essential outreach should take place between gigs as well, or jazz in Indianapolis might lose its sense of direction.

As Adams put it, in a rhetorical question: "If you're not marketing yourself, where are you going?"