Between The Blue Notes: Getting The Spirit Of Jazz Up In Me

My earliest memories of jazz are tangled up with long family car rides and my mum’s ice-cream tub full of Van Morrison cassettes. I learned to sing most of his catalogue by ear before I could properly read.

I remember becoming fixated on certain lines—those soaring, soulful phrases that pulled at something inside me. Sometimes I couldn’t tell whether I was hearing a vocalist, a clarinet or a saxophone. I only knew that the sound was uplifting and alive, and that it seemed to move through me rather than simply reach my ears.

I grew up in a non-religious household, but listening to music gave me a feeling of something larger than myself. I wondered whether this was the sense of spirit that other people spoke about: an invisible force capable of entering the body and stirring up emotions you didn’t yet have words for.

Before long, I was playing in marching bands, big bands and orchestras. I coveted jazz CDs discovered in op shops and became lost in the voices of Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, Billie Holiday, Dinah Washington and Etta James. I mimicked them like a baby bird learning to sing—trying to reproduce their phrasing, their textures and those beautifully imperfect edges that made every voice unmistakably its own.

Working in an Italian restaurant gave me a lasting affection for the Rat Pack. I even had a poster of Frank Sinatra on my wall. Years later, I found myself immersed in music again with an excellent duo partner who specialised in jazz guitar with a Latin flair. I was completely in my element singing songs associated with Peggy Lee, Doris Day, Dusty Springfield, Carole King, Amy Winehouse, Janis Joplin and Norah Jones.

Some jazz purists might say we are wading into murky waters as far as genre is concerned. But of all musical forms, jazz is hardly the one that should be lecturing us about “rules.”

As a musician, I have always admired the diligence, skill and mastery of a well-trained jazz player. How can anyone be trained to respond to so many strange chord progressions and unexpected key changes? How can someone study a form so rigorously and then relax enough to apparently “make it up” through improvisation?

When I try to follow the changes—or when my partner, a jazz-trained guitarist, attempts to explain them—I can only see chaos. It looks like a map from another planet.

Perhaps that is what is being channelled when people get the Spirit of Jazz up in them. Yes, that is a Mighty Boosh reference.

Jazz has always opened doors into other forms of expression for me. I may head home this afternoon, put on some bebop and throw paint at the walls like I used to in high school.

Once, I was lucky enough to see members of the local poetry group Dangerously Poetic perform Allen Ginsberg’s Howl, accompanied by a drummer, double bassist and saxophonist improvising around the words. All my little jazzy poet heart’s dreams came true at once. Poetry, rhythm, rebellion and improvisation collided in a performance that felt both spontaneous and inevitable.

Perhaps that is jazz’s greatest magic: it is never completely finished.

It survives and evolves through generations as though it were an organism in its own right—absorbing new voices, responding to upheaval and finding new ways to express the otherwise inexpressible. Its history encompasses far more than musical styles. It carries stories of race, politics, civil rights, human rights, migration, resistance, heartbreak, joy and extraordinary creative freedom.

Pulp Fiction’s incredible jazz collection is a testament to that vast history. Across more than 200 books, a century of music unfolds through a cornucopia of genres, performers, biographies, memoirs, discographies, cultural histories and political movements. It traces jazz from its early roots through ragtime, swing, big band, bebop, blues, cool jazz and countless experiments beyond categorisation.

If I could take three books home from the collection right now, I would choose Jazz Cleopatra, Lady Sings the Blues and Nina Simone’s I Put a Spell on You. These are stories of women whose lives, voices and art reached far beyond the confines of any single genre.

Because jazz has never remained quietly inside its assigned box. It spills out—into poetry, painting, politics and whatever comes next.

Step Between the Blue Notes and explore our remarkable collection of books celebrating jazz, its history and the people who gave it life. You might begin by looking for a particular artist or era. You may end up following a strange, soulful riff somewhere entirely unexpected.