When I was still living in Brazil, I thought of New York primarily as the city where many of my favorite jazz composers lived and worked. I listened to their recordings, studied their scores, and tried to understand how composers such as Maria Schneider, Jim McNeely, Alan Ferber, Pedro Giraudo, and Darcy James Argue had developed such distinctive musical voices, helping define contemporary writing for big bands and jazz orchestras.

At that time, my attention was focused almost entirely on the music itself. I wanted to understand how those pieces were written.

After moving to New York, I gradually became part of New York’s community of jazz composers and gained a much closer view of the projects, ensembles, and initiatives that sustain it. Over time, it became clear that the strength of this creative scene lies not only in the quality of its composers, but also in the ecosystem built around their work. Institutions, concert series, artistic directors, bandleaders, musicians specializing in this repertoire, and the composers themselves all play an active role in creating opportunities for new works to be written, rehearsed, performed, and refined.

That does not mean the process is easy. Even in a city that brings together some of the world’s leading composers, arrangers, and performers in this field, continuing to write for big bands, jazz orchestras, and other large ensembles remains an enormous challenge. Bringing together nearly twenty musicians, securing rehearsal space, producing concerts, and creating opportunities for new works to be performed requires a remarkable collective effort. Perhaps that is precisely why this ecosystem matters so much.

Observing how this community functions led me to reflect on the ways these initiatives help keep the creation of new music for large ensembles alive.

Much More Than Concerts and Recordings

After moving to New York, I began meeting the people, projects, and institutions that helped sustain this creative community. Gradually, what had once been a scene I observed from afar became part of my own professional experience.

Most composers working in this field do not spend their days attending concerts or constantly gathering with colleagues. The creative work usually happens in moments of individual focus, often alongside teaching, performing, arranging, or other professional commitments. It is at the piano, in front of manuscript paper, or behind a computer that new works gradually take shape over weeks or months.

Writing music, organizing projects, raising funds, producing concerts, and creating opportunities for new works to be performed often requires years of sustained individual effort.

That is precisely why these moments of connection become so meaningful. For a few hours, they bring together people who normally spend much of their time developing their own artistic projects independently.

A Community Built by the People Who Sustain It

One of the things that impressed me most over the years was understanding the different ways opportunities to present original music are created within this community. Some are created by institutions dedicated to supporting this repertoire. Others exist because composers themselves organize concerts, form collectives, and develop projects that allow new music to continue finding an audience.

The BMI Jazz Composers Workshop is one important example.

Over several decades, the workshop has played an important role within New York’s tradition of big band composition, providing generations of composers with a place to develop new works, participate in creative discussions, and regularly hear their music performed by a professional big band. For anyone writing for big bands, jazz orchestras, or other large ensembles, opportunities like this are invaluable.

At the same time, many composers create their own spaces for collaboration and performance by organizing concerts, founding collectives, and developing independent projects that help keep this repertoire alive.

Shortly after moving to New York, saxophonist, composer, and arranger Lívio Almeida and I founded a project called Mó Collective.

Our goal was to create a space for Brazilian music for big band within New York’s jazz scene. Beyond presenting original repertoire, the ensemble became a meeting point for musicians interested in exploring new possibilities for large ensembles through Brazilian musical traditions.

Later, I became one of the co-founders of the New York Jazz Composers Mosaic alongside composers Jihye Lee and Migiwa Miyajima.

The project brought together artists with very different musical voices who nevertheless shared the same challenge: finding opportunities to present original music for large ensembles in a city where this kind of work demands an extraordinary amount of organization.

As important as the concerts themselves, initiatives like these help create the conditions that allow new works to continue being written, rehearsed, performed, and developed.

Why Does New York’s Big Band Scene Keep Producing New Musical Voices?

The existence of such an active community raises another interesting question. How can the same artistic environment remain so diverse, producing composers whose musical languages are so distinct from one another?

Part of the answer lies in the way New York brings together artists from many different places, backgrounds, traditions, and musical experiences. The city offers a shared creative environment, but the composers who become part of it do not arrive with the same references, training, aesthetic priorities, or artistic goals.

That shared environment still matters deeply. Composers, performers, artistic directors, presenters, and institutions interact continuously, exchange ideas, develop projects together, and challenge one another to expand the possibilities of writing for big bands and jazz orchestras.

Certain influences circulate through the community, and composers inevitably affect one another’s thinking. But rather than producing a single aesthetic, that exchange often gives each composer more ways to develop an individual voice.

That diversity becomes especially clear when looking at the work of the contemporary composers who continue to shape New York’s tradition of writing for big bands and jazz orchestras. Although many of them share the same artistic environment, their music often follows remarkably different directions.

Jim McNeely expanded the legacy of the Village Vanguard Jazz Orchestra through a highly sophisticated writing style characterized by dense harmonic language, cluster voicings, and exceptionally refined orchestration. Wynton Marsalis, meanwhile, demonstrates how it is possible to remain deeply rooted in the jazz tradition while continuing to create new works and arrangements that keep that tradition evolving.

Maria Schneider has developed a musical language defined by lyricism, large-scale forms, and a deeply personal orchestral approach that reflects the influence of Gil Evans and Bob Brookmeyer without ever becoming an imitation of either. Darcy James Argue has brought influences from rock, contemporary concert music, and complex formal structures into the language of the modern big band.

Pedro Giraudo has built a body of work deeply connected to Argentine music and tango. Miho Hazama, in turn, combines exceptional orchestral precision with influences drawn from contemporary jazz, concert music, and a wide range of musical traditions.

The musicians themselves are just as essential to this process. In the span of a few days, the same musician might perform an intensely lyrical work, a composition rooted in Brazilian music, a piece influenced by rock, or an entire concert devoted to the jazz tradition. Each project demands a different musical language, aesthetic, and way of playing, requiring musicians to continually adapt their sound, stylistic approach, time feel, and interpretation. Over time, this constant movement develops musicians who are equally comfortable navigating very different musical worlds.

This environment also fosters an exceptionally high artistic standard. Many musicians actively seek out the city’s most creative projects, making the continuous development of their musical skills and stylistic versatility an essential part of their professional lives. Composers, in turn, know that their music will be performed by outstanding musicians and heard by colleagues with a deep understanding of this repertoire.

The result is a continuous cycle of artistic development. As more composers write original music, performers expand their ability to interpret new musical languages. As those musicians continue to grow, composers gain even greater freedom to experiment. The community itself becomes a driving force behind its own artistic evolution.

That combination of collaboration, artistic excellence, and the constant exchange of ideas helps explain why New York remains one of the world’s most fertile environments for original music for big bands and jazz orchestras. It is a place where musicians continue to grow, composers continue to challenge one another, and new musical languages continue to emerge. Being part of that environment has continually influenced the way I think about writing for large ensembles, not by offering formulas or answers, but by exposing me to an extraordinary diversity of artistic voices and creative approaches.

Sharing Ideas, References, and Inspiration

Over the years, I came to know many composers working within New York’s jazz community. Remy Le Boeuf, Miho Hazama, Erica Seguine, Rin Seo, Michael Dudley, Joseph Herbst, Jihye Lee, Migiwa Miyajima, and many others were developing original projects, facing similar challenges, and finding their own ways to keep writing for big bands and other large ensembles.

One evening, I attended a performance by the Maria Schneider Orchestra at Birdland. I found myself seated at the same table as composers Erica Seguine, Remy Le Boeuf, Migiwa Miyajima, and Meg Okura. As often happened in those gatherings, the conversation naturally revolved around the music we had just heard, the projects each of us was developing, new compositions, and the different ways we were all trying to keep those artistic endeavors moving forward.

Concerts like these often became opportunities to reconnect with colleagues, exchange ideas, and continue conversations that extended well beyond the music itself. Even when those encounters did not lead to collaborations, they helped sustain the sense of community that surrounded this work.

That evening also carried a personal significance. Years earlier, while studying at UNICAMP and later during my doctoral research, I had spent countless hours listening to, analyzing, and studying Maria Schneider’s music. She would later become one of the composers discussed in my dissertation, while her work also became part of my musical education through my experiences at the Henry Mancini Institute and the University of Miami.

I was sitting in New York alongside composers who were also part of that creative community. Around the same table were an artist whose music I had studied for years, fellow composers from my own generation of New York jazz composers, and a musical community that, for a long time, I had known only through recordings, scores, concerts, and albums.

The Role of Artistic Leadership

Another lesson I learned from observing this community is the importance of the people who take the initiative to create opportunities for others. One person who has always stood out to me in that regard is Miho Hazama.

It was through Miho Hazama’s work as curator of the Jazz Composers Showcase that I was invited to participate in the series. Beyond her work as a composer, arranger, and conductor, she has played an active role in creating opportunities for new music for big bands in New York, curating and leading the editions of The Jazz Gallery’s Jazz Composers Showcase in which I participated.

The concept behind the series was both simple and powerful. A professional big band made up of some of New York’s finest musicians was brought together to perform music by a group of invited composers. Rather than requiring each composer to organize an entire concert independently, the Showcase created a shared platform that transformed ideas on the page into live performances.

For anyone writing for big bands and jazz orchestras, opportunities like this are extraordinarily valuable.

From Listener to Participant

I first took part in the Jazz Composers Showcase in 2022.

Two years later, I was invited back for the series’ tenth-anniversary edition, which brought together composers who had participated throughout its history.

Those experiences were meaningful because they marked my transition from a distant observer to an active participant in an artistic community that I had admired long before moving to New York.

It is easy to look at jazz orchestras and big bands and see only the concerts, the recordings, and the names on the marquee. What usually remains invisible is the amount of work required to keep that music alive.

The reading sessions organized by the BMI Jazz Composers Workshop, the musicians who choose to dedicate time to original projects, the composers who organize concerts to present one another’s music, the curators who create series devoted to new works, and the institutions that make room for new voices are all part of the network of people and initiatives that sustains this artistic community.

That network is what allows this musical tradition to keep evolving. It creates the conditions for each new generation of composers to develop its own artistic voice while remaining connected to the generations that came before.

About the Author

Rafael Piccolotto de Lima is a composer, arranger, music director, and educator. A Latin Grammy-nominated composer and recipient of 13 DownBeat Awards, he teaches, mentors, and supports musicians in the areas of composition, arranging, musical creativity, and artistic development.

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