The BMI Jazz Composers Workshop and the Challenges of Developing Original Music for Big Band
- Rafael Piccolotto de Lima
- 5 days ago
- 14 min read
Updated: 3 hours ago
Between the idea for a big band piece and the moment it comes to life through the musicians who perform it, there is a journey that extends far beyond what appears in the score. In my own path, as in those of many other composers of my generation, programs such as the BMI Jazz Composers Workshop have played an important role. In this article, that experience serves as a guiding thread for a broader reflection on working with large instrumental ensembles, the university environment, and my professional work as a composer and bandleader between New York and São Paulo.
Writing for a large instrumental ensemble involves a kind of compositional work shaped by the scale of the group itself. Depending on its length, creating a piece may involve dozens or hundreds of pages of music, including the full score and the musicians' individual parts. This work requires an understanding of the resources and limitations of each instrument, how the ensemble functions internally, and how to write in a way that aligns with the articulation, dynamics, and performance practices shared by musicians within that tradition. This complexity is present in many kinds of projects, from chamber and symphony orchestras to big bands and other large ensembles.
Within this broader world, the big band has an architecture and tradition of its own. The saxophone, trumpet, and trombone sections need to function internally while also interacting with the rhythm section and the sound of the orchestra as a whole. In the language of jazz, written material also frequently coexists with improvisation and the individuality of the musicians. Mastering these technical considerations is already a complex undertaking. Even so, perhaps the greatest challenge lies in the creative process itself: shaping an artistic vision, making aesthetic and compositional choices that express it, and finding an individual way of engaging with this tradition.
Even after all the work required to create a piece, another equally significant challenge remains. For most composers, securing a rehearsal and performance by a full ensemble is already a considerable obstacle. When it does happen, the piece premieres, the concert ends, and the conditions that made the performance possible often dissolve. Composers with a steady flow of commissions and productions may be able to move on to the next project. For many others, however, there is not necessarily another project waiting. They must begin the search all over again for a new opportunity to write, rehearse, and present their music.
Just as rare as finding a new opportunity is preserving the conditions needed to return to the same piece and keep it alive. Hearing it again, revising it over time, and following its development alongside the musicians requires an environment capable of sustaining the process beyond the first performance. Structures of this kind are the exception unless the composer leads a big band or another group able to perform the composer's repertoire regularly.
I discovered the BMI Jazz Composers Workshop near the end of my undergraduate studies at Unicamp, around 2009 or 2010, when I began researching graduate programs in the United States. At that point, I was not yet consciously looking for a laboratory where I could revise pieces or follow their development over time.
My aspiration was broader. I wanted to move closer to the world of big band composition in the United States, spend time with artists working at a high level, and take part in environments where that music was being created and performed. When I learned about the BMI workshop, I was excited by the possibility of becoming part of that space. Even before I understood all the implications of its ongoing readings and discussions, I recognized it as a rare opportunity.
Years later, BMI would become one of my main points of entry into the community of composers, arrangers, and big band leaders who sustain New York's tradition of original music for large ensembles.
The Development of My Big Band Writing at the University of Miami
Before participating in the BMI Jazz Composers Workshop, I had an experience during my years at the University of Miami's Frost School of Music that would transform my relationship with big band writing.
Under the leadership of composer, arranger, and educator Gary Lindsay, the university fostered a culture that was exceptionally supportive of new music. Students took an active role in the department's musical life, writing for the school's big bands and closely following the entire journey of their compositions, from the first rehearsals to the recording sessions.
Much of my development as a big band composer took place in this environment. Between 2011 and 2016, I was able to hear my own pieces frequently and follow the changes that emerged through rehearsals and recording sessions. In my practice, creation, listening, and revision became increasingly interconnected parts of the same process.
During this period, I created a big band made up of students from the department. The group performed original music at one of the university's Jazz Forums, and the concert was recorded on video. If you are curious to learn more about the project, the video below documents part of that work.
It was in this environment that I began incorporating the experience of hearing a piece performed by a big band into my compositional process. A rehearsal or performance did not necessarily mark the end of the work. What I heard could lead me back to the score and prompt further revisions.
This experience also led me to reflect on the role that revision plays in the processes of different composers. In conversations connected to my master's and doctoral research, Maria Schneider and Vince Mendoza described two very different approaches.
Maria told me that she would write a piece, bring it to her orchestra, and continue evaluating the material during rehearsals and performances. The process could involve experimentation, revision, and additional performances before an album was recorded. Even for an exceptionally experienced composer, working with the orchestra remained an organic part of each piece's development.
Vince described another path. In his practice, much of the revision happened before the first rehearsal. Once a piece had been rehearsed and performed, he tended to consider it complete and preferred to direct his energy toward the next composition.
These perspectives show that a performance can serve different functions within the creative process. For some composers, it confirms and concludes work prepared in advance. For others, what the performance reveals can open a new stage of revision. In either case, having a band available offers something rare: the ability to make that decision after hearing the music under real performance conditions.
In my own process, listening often led me back to the score. This way of working gradually became part of my practice during my years in Miami and remains important to me today.
This process of listening and revision was not limited to big band. During my doctorate, I was also able to develop and record works for other instrumentations, including the string orchestra that took part in my research. The photographs below document one of those sessions.
As I approached the completion of my doctorate, one question began to occupy more and more of my attention: what would be the natural next step in my path? I wanted to move to New York and find a way to take an active role in its music scene by presenting my work, writing new compositions, and building relationships with the musicians working in that world.
A Place I Wanted to Experience Before I Even Arrived in New York
When I began researching graduate programs in the United States, New York already held a special fascination for me. It was home to many of the composers and musicians I admired, as well as institutions such as Jazz at Lincoln Center and clubs such as the Village Vanguard and Birdland. It also had a music scene I had known for years through albums, concerts, and recordings.
It was also during this period that I discovered the BMI Jazz Composers Workshop. I found the program while researching Darcy James Argue's career, after learning that he had received the Charlie Parker Jazz Composition Prize. The more I learned about the workshop, the more interested I became.
Some time later, I was accepted by the Manhattan School of Music and had the opportunity to meet Jim McNeely, who was then a director of the BMI workshop and a member of the school's faculty. I had followed his work for years and considered him one of the central figures in contemporary big band writing. His work as a composer, arranger, educator, and bandleader helped shape an entire generation of creators. It carried forward a tradition associated with figures such as Bob Brookmeyer, one that continues to influence writing for jazz orchestras.
At that point, however, I chose to go to Miami as a Composer Fellow at the Henry Mancini Institute. The position offered me the opportunity to work directly with the institute's orchestra, use the University of Miami's recording facilities, and closely follow the production of projects on different scales. It was particularly well aligned with the kind of experience I was seeking for my master's and doctoral studies.
BMI remained on my horizon. During my years in Miami, I already imagined that after completing my studies, I would move to New York and try to participate in the workshop. Near the end of my doctorate, I applied to the program and was accepted.
During my final semester at the University of Miami, I began traveling to New York to participate in meetings and reading sessions while preparing for my permanent move to the city.
In practice, BMI became one of my first connections to New York's community of composers and arrangers.
A Creative Laboratory for Composers
One of the most interesting aspects of this kind of program is that it does not function like a traditional school. Rather than teaching the fundamentals of composition, it creates an environment in which new pieces can be discussed, tested, and revisited through successive readings and feedback sessions.
Most participants already had a strong educational background and professional experience. They included composers who had completed master's degrees or doctorates, experienced instrumentalists developing creative projects of their own, and musicians at different stages of their careers who were looking for a space where they could continue creating, listening to, and refining their work.
At the weekly meetings, participants shared scores and works still in development. When a composition had not yet received a reading or recording, playback from the notation software itself served as a temporary reference while following the score.
Using these materials, the participants and mentors discussed the choices made in each piece, raised questions, and offered different perspectives on its development.
During the years I participated in the workshop, Ted Nash, Alan Ferber, and Andy Farber served at different times as music directors of the BMI New York Jazz Orchestra. The work developed there was also connected to the compositional lineage associated with Bob Brookmeyer and Jim McNeely.
Reading sessions were held each month, during which a big band made up of professional musicians from New York's jazz scene performed works by the participants. Each composer had the opportunity to hear one or two readings and receive feedback.
When working alone, a composer depends on what they can imagine and, often, on playback from notation software. These references are useful for following the score, but they are very different from the experience of hearing real musicians perform the piece.
When a big band of this caliber gives a piece its first reading, the music encounters the acoustic nature of the instruments and the human dimension of performance. The balance among sections, technical challenges, articulation, style, and the musicians' ability to play together all become immediately perceptible. Within a few minutes, issues may emerge that could remain hidden through months of individual work or might never be revealed by a computer.
Almost none of the works presented were truly finished. The workshop functioned as a space for experimentation, where composers frequently brought sketches, preliminary versions, or works still in development. The alternation between discussion, reading, listening, and revision created an ongoing cycle. A score could be discussed by the group, tested by the big band, reconsidered by the composer, and presented again weeks later in a new version. This did not mean that every reading needed to result in a revision. Each composer decided whether and how what they had heard and discussed would affect the development of the piece.
When a Composition Continues to Evolve
Two of my works illustrate this process particularly well.
The first was Negative Space, originally composed for a jazz combo during my final year at the University of Miami. The piece later received a new version for my Chamber Project and was selected for presentation at the International Society of Jazz Arrangers and Composers (ISJAC) conference. When I joined BMI, I decided to revisit the material and develop a new big band version, which went through the workshop's reading and revision process.
This version was ultimately selected as a finalist for the 2017 Charlie Parker Jazz Composition Prize.
Years later, the piece continued its journey and became part of Orquestra Urbana's repertoire, appearing on the album currently in production in Brazil.
Something similar happened with Raiar. The piece was originally commissioned and premiered by the Symphony of the Americas in collaboration with the group led by vibraphonist Errol Rackipov. I later developed a new big band version that was presented at BMI.
Once again, the piece was selected as a finalist for the 2018 Charlie Parker Jazz Composition Prize and continued to evolve until it became part of Orquestra Urbana's current repertoire.
These trajectories show how the same piece can continue to evolve through different readings, instrumentations, and performance contexts. In practice, the compositional process often continues even after the premiere.
New York and the World of Big Bands
The readings and discussions organized by BMI did not take place in isolation. The musicians and directors who participated in the workshop were also active in a variety of projects across New York's big band scene. Through them, participants came into contact with a professional community that extended far beyond the program's meetings.
Being in the city, however, did not mean having automatic access to that world. A composer could be fully prepared to write for big band and still not lead an ensemble or have the resources to bring nearly twenty musicians together regularly. Without that infrastructure, many works would remain only on the page.
BMI helped narrow that gap. During the reading sessions, participants could hear their compositions interpreted by professional musicians, observe how their ideas worked in practice, and speak directly with people who had a deep understanding of the language.
The workshop did not eliminate the challenges of developing a creative project of one's own or keeping a big band active. Even so, it transformed the desire to write for this instrumentation into a concrete musical experience and offered an initial opportunity to participate in that community.
In practice, this environment also gave rise to relationships and collaborations that would shape the following years of my career.
Relationships That Continue Long After the Readings
Among the composers I met at the workshop were Jihye Lee and Migiwa Miyajima. Years later, we would collaborate in creating the New York Jazz Composers Mosaic, a project and concert series born from the relationships built within that community.
Another example was Remy Le Boeuf. I remember hearing his pieces during the reading sessions and considering them some of the most interesting works presented during that period. Beyond my admiration for his work, I sensed aesthetic affinities between us that likely reflected a shared influence from composers such as Maria Schneider. Over time, that connection developed into a friendship and opened the way to new collaborations.
Years later, Remy commissioned me to write a piece for the University of Colorado big band, where he was teaching at the time. That commission became Entre Outras Coisas, a composition inspired by the work of Moacir Santos that later became part of Orquestra Urbana's repertoire.
The relationships built through the workshop were not limited to colleagues of the same generation. Spending time with composers and musicians at different stages of their careers was also part of the experience.
Ted Nash was another important influence during that period. A saxophonist, composer, and longtime member of the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, he was a leading figure in New York's big band scene and served as one of BMI's music directors during the years I participated in the workshop, before the pandemic.
Shortly after moving to New York, I invited him to lunch at Jazz at Lincoln Center. I was still trying to understand how that ecosystem worked and the possible paths for developing my own projects in the city.
During our conversation, Ted shared observations about how New York's big band scene operated, the challenges of sustaining original projects, and the different paths followed by composers and bandleaders. We also spoke about Brazilian music, a subject that had always interested him and had appeared at different points in his artistic career.
The conversation did not provide ready-made answers, but it helped me better understand the artistic ecosystem I was beginning to enter from the perspective of someone who had been part of that community for decades.
The Role of Creative Ecosystems
When I applied to BMI, my central question was not how to continue revising the works I had already written. I wanted to make the transition from my years of training in Miami to active participation in New York's musical life. I was looking for a way to remain active as a big band composer, present my work, and begin building a place for myself within that community.
At the workshop, I found more than a point of entry. The readings and discussions created the conditions for new compositions to be heard, questioned, and transformed. This process is not the only possible way to work, but it became an important part of my practice and of the development of pieces that would continue along other paths.
The value of the experience did not lie in any single reading, performance, or award. It lay in the forms of continuity the workshop made possible: compositions that matured, relationships that grew into new projects, and a place within the New York scene that continued to develop long after the workshop had ended.
About the Author
Rafael Piccolotto de Lima is a composer, arranger, music director, and educator. A Latin Grammy-nominated composer and recipient of multiple international awards, including 13 DownBeat Awards and honors from ASCAP, he develops artistic projects that connect Brazilian music, jazz, orchestral writing, improvisation, recording production, research, education, and interdisciplinary collaboration.
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