On genre, labels, and why the box doesn’t fit

After a recent gig, someone approached me and said our band’s music was hard to “put into a box.” Then came the follow-up: “How do you advertise your music? Is it jazz, or a blend of pop, blues, and soul?” It’s a fair question — and it got me thinking: why do we feel the need to box music at all?

In his blog Perceiving Music, Doug Thomas suggests we’re at a disadvantage when we try to categorise and label what we hear. We bring preconceived ideas and expectations to the music and, as a result, can close ourselves off to its original meaning and “the heart of the music.” He also argues that our obsession with categories makes us miss the bigger picture and “the connections between all music.” Where would Bartók be without European folk music?

“Negrito’s music has been notoriously difficult to pin down, let alone categorise. His vision of blues is as eclectic and all-encompassing as Prince’s was to soul.”  – Hal Horowitz.

One of my favourite contemporary musicians, Fantastic Negrito (Xavier Dphrepaulezz), illustrates this tension perfectly. He’s usually labelled a blues artist, yet he constantly stretches and reshapes the genre. His 2016 album The Last Days of Oakland won a Grammy for Best Contemporary Blues Album. According to Hal Horowitz, “Negrito’s music has been notoriously difficult to pin down, let alone categorise. His vision of blues is as eclectic and all-encompassing as Prince’s was to soul.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that question after the gig. Until then, I’d simply thought of my music as jazz, with a few familiar tunes thrown in. Like most bandleaders, I think carefully about the venue and audience when planning a set list. Lately, my repertoire has included more pop and contemporary styles, usually “jazzed up”: I might change a pop song’s rhythm to swing or Latin, or sit my vocals back off the beat to give it a jazz feel.

My original music sits on the contemporary side of the jazz spectrum. I draw on many styles and artists and like the idea of reaching a wider audience, though I don’t write with a particular listener or genre in mind. When I write a melody, I’m not thinking about labels — I’m trying to capture a moment in time: a feeling of joy, awe, sadness, or melancholy.

Sometimes the music takes on a pop or rock edge when the guitarist drops a rock lick into his solo. The musicians I work with help bring my melodies to life — for instance, by adding complex chords under a simple, catchy line. I enjoy music that speaks to the times, with progressive, intricate rhythms, but I also love simple ballads and tunes that might be called pop — the popular music of the day. I’m drawn to music that surprises, uplifts, calms, and everything in between.

After one show, an audience member said, “Oh, the pop was good — people recognise this,” in response to our jazzy take on a Beatles tune. It was a reminder that familiarity and surprise can sit side by side, genre label or not.

Music is personal, music is primal, and music is for everyone, regardless of style. As Doug Thomas suggests, it’s up to us — musicians, performers, and composers — to push against rigid categories and highlight the “connections between all music,” presenting it as both language and art. At the same time, he argues, journalists and writers need to guide listeners “to understand and select, rather than ignore or promote.”

Stevie Wonder captures this beautifully in “Sir Duke”: “Music is a world within itself, with a language we all understand.”