The bittersweet scent of my grandmother’s basement will forever linger in my fading childhood memory. I may not always remember the shag carpet underneath my feet and the air thick with dust from a room undiscovered for years, but there will always be that piano. I pushed away the yellowed sheet music spread across the bench. When I spread my fingers towards the keys, readily pursuing a break in the silence, a single chord rang out, out of tune and dissonant. Yet, echoing back from upstairs, a sweet harmony of jazz and soul rang downstairs from my grandmother’s FM radio: Ella Fitzgerald. That Christmas, when I emerged from the eerie basement into a chorus of laughter and smiles, I found the key to keeping holiday memories alive: jazz.
Jazz is the soul of not just the holidays, but of life. In a world of synth and autotune, a soothing bossa nova can cure the growing disconnection of the world. When artificial sounds top the billboards, finding a classic album may be just what you need to reset your music taste.
One of my favorite artists, Ella Fitzgerald, was introduced to my personal music collection as soon as I got my first iPod. The way that she scoops and swings her notes is the perfect example of how the human voice is one of the most beautiful instruments to be played.
Fitzgerald primarily sings about her experiences of love, grief and heartbreak as many artists do, but she does so on a level deeper than storytelling and music. She takes each phrase and transforms the harmonies and style of each pulse of music to accompany her lyrics in a way that brings intrigue to any listener. Her songs are classic and timeless, each cover merely introduces a new version of herself whilst pulling the audience back to her original message. You can often find her singing alongside other jazz musicians such as Duke Ellington or Louis Armstrong; yet she neither overpowers nor is diminished by these features, as her impeccable ability to blend with any artist is one reason why she is often labeled the “Queen of Jazz.”
Though Fitzgerald’s pure tone and clear diction are a beautiful representation of one side of what jazz music can be, this genre encapsulates a wide variety of expression through music. Scatting, improvisation and syncopation give artists the space to communicate feelings that words cannot express. Each performance becomes its own conversation between the sounds, environment and instruments. Jazz of any kind never sounds the same twice. No matter if the sheet music is the same, the music will always be shaped by the musicians, the audience and even just the moment itself. The amount of interpretation and spontaneity that jazz holds is truly what makes it alive. Each artist brings a new story to the table, mirroring how varied the human experience and expression of such is.
Some modern artists occasionally sample pieces of classic jazz songs, but many listeners don’t notice due to the lack of representation of jazz in popular media. MF DOOM, Kendrick Lamar and Kanye West are only a few of the hundreds of artists who have taken older jazz music and curated it to fit into their modern songs. Sampling is more than just borrowing sounds—it’s a form of preserving the beauty of jazz. When jazz instrumentals are woven into the complexities of a hip-hop or R&B song, it can introduce new generations to a genre they might not otherwise explore.
The first time I heard a song by Billie Holiday was in the concluding scenes of the hit 2004 romantic comedy “The Notebook.” Her song “I’ll Be Seeing You” perfectly encapsulates the emotional scene, representing the acceptance of grief without truly giving up on somebody you truly love. Holiday’s voice carries a weight that feels almost sacred, as if each note is shaped by her life’s experiences, not simply her technical training alone. The vulnerability in her delivery invites listeners to sit with their emotions rather than rush past them. In “The Notebook,” Holiday’s song emphasizes audience reflection, moving the intimacy of the moment to another level. She doesn’t merely sing about pain and loss—she allows the listener to feel it alongside her while adapting the music to their own life.
As time passes, jazz continues to develop, but some artists choose to continue older traditions as well as contribute their own. Laufey recently expanded her holiday album, which consists of covers of classic Christmas songs that often line the charts in December. Despite the mirrored lyrics and keys, Laufey tends to introduce her own unique sound to the songs. Sometimes the passion and emotion behind a singer’s voice can change the music much more than simple technical changes. Laufey’s ability to balance reverence for tradition with modern vulnerability exemplifies how it can both continue how it was and adapt to change, simply adding layers of creativity. Her delicate phrasing and soft tone bring a sense of intimacy to familiar melodies, making them feel more personal than performative. The sincerity behind her melodies stays consistent, showing how, instead of simply copying others, she curates her own sound for the music she’s covering or creating herself. By bridging this gap from old to new, Laufey proves that jazz cannot be confined to a specific era or audience—it’s a continuous force throughout time.
As I reflect on that fading memory from my grandmother’s basement, I start to realize how the beauty of that experience was more than just how jazz connected to my own nostalgia; it’s a thread that passes through all time. It weaves through emotion, memory and identity while balancing its own musicality and beauty. From Fitzgerald’s soulful swing to Holiday’s mellow sorrow, jazz continues to offer a space where authenticity matters more than perfection. Long after that memory will fade, jazz will remain, playing softly in the background of my life.
