My Favourite Style of Music

My favourite style of music is jazz—especially the eras around hard bop and modal jazz. What hooks me is the balance between structure and freedom: there’s a tune you can hum, but in the middle of it the players step off the map and make something new together. That conversation—piano tossing out a chordal idea, sax answering with a twist, drums nudging the energy—feels alive every time I listen.

I also love the textures. Trumpet and tenor sax paint in bold colours, while piano and double bass add warmth and depth. The drums aren’t just keeping time; ride cymbal patterns and brushed snare create that floating “swing” that makes your foot move without thinking. Even the so-called “wrong” notes—blue notes—give jazz its aching, human quality.

Substyles keep it fresh for different moods. Cool jazz is my late-night companion: spacious, uncluttered, perfect when the city quiets down. Hard bop brings gospel and blues grit; it’s what I put on when I need momentum. Modal jazz strips harmony down so the soloist can explore for longer stretches—it’s meditative but never dull. And when I want electricity (literally), jazz fusion scratches the itch with amplified keys, bass, and rock rhythms.

Jazz also rewards attention. The more I learn, the more I hear: how a bassist walks a line that outlines the chords, how a drummer “drops bombs” to comment on a solo, how a pianist comps differently behind trumpet versus voice. But it never turns into homework; even if I’m just cooking dinner, it sets a mood that’s calm but alert.

Part of the joy is the artists who feel like old friends. Miles Davis for mood and nerve; John Coltrane for intensity and spirituality; Thelonious Monk for off-kilter genius; Bill Evans for harmony that seems to breathe; Art Blakey for unstoppable drive; Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan when I want the purity of the human voice riding over a band. If someone asks where to start, I suggest a handful of enduring tracks: “So What,” “Blue in Green,” “Take Five,” “Round Midnight,” “Moanin’,” “My Funny Valentine.” Each one opens a door to a slightly different room in the same house.

Live jazz sealed the deal for me. In small clubs the musicians are close enough to read each other’s smiles and raised eyebrows, and you can feel a solo change direction because the audience collectively leans in. No two nights are the same, and that unrepeatable moment is the essence of why I keep coming back.

In short, jazz is my favourite because it’s endlessly re-listenable, emotionally honest, and collaborative at its core. It’s music you can relax to, study with, or get lost inside, and it keeps teaching me how to listen.