The best jazz soloist, they say, is one whose solos “tell a story.” Muneer Nasser has more than one story to tell—but they’re not all his own.

Chances are you’ve heard Nasser on trumpet somewhere around town. In just the past two months, he played the D.C. Jazz Festival, Blues Alley, and Westminster Presbyterian Church, all in service of his new album, Blue House Session. His jazz is straighter than straight-ahead: In fact, he’s a little skeptical of straight-ahead jazz (i.e., the mainstream, or what passes for it given jazz’s commercial position) circa 2024.

“I call it catch-me-if-you-can jazz because it kind of starts and kind of rambles on,” he says over lunch in Rockville. “I like the stuff I grew up on, where the groove is emphasized.”

Whether you share his view of contemporary jazz or not, Nasser puts his money where his mouth is. Blue House Session (recorded in the summer of 2023 at the titular studio in Silver Spring) contains some of the purest, most tunefully accessible stuff this side of 1965. There’s blues in spades—oozing out of every corner, not just in the original track “Nasser’s Blues” or the Miles Davis cover “All Blues.” There’s also a wallop of Afro Caribbean sounds, including two Cuban-spiced numbers, “Cancel Culture” and “Public Eye,” and a reggae pastiche in “Black Disciples.”

It almost can’t help but be a killer record, given the band Nasser puts behind him: Tenor saxophonist Elijah Easton, pianist Allyn Johnson, bassist James King, and drummer John Lamkin III all put in their level best. But Nasser himself is a gifted and well-schooled trumpeter. On “Black Disciples” in particular, he pulls out all the technical stops, with pitch bends, lip trills, and growls in his pithy back-and-forth with Easton. He backs the chops up with concise, coherent statements, often thoughtful, always playful—even on the ballad standard “Polka Dots and Moonbeams.” (That last, by the way, is a gem for the flugel, the larger and darker sibling of the trumpet; Nasser is one of many great trumpeters in D.C., but he might be the best flugelhornist, full stop.) Indeed, Blue House Session is one thing that a great deal of contemporary jazz forgets to be: fun.

Now 57, Nasser has been in D.C. for the better part of four decades, arriving as a student at Howard University. He came up through the District’s jazz ranks like a lot of his peers, working at Lawrence Wheatley’s weekly jam sessions at One Step Down and at churches like Anacostia’s Union Temple Baptist. “There was a sense of camaraderie here,” he recalls. “Everybody knew each other. I don’t think enough credit is given to this environment that was created in D.C.” (Swing Beat wholeheartedly agrees with that sentiment.)

But that environment is not Nasser’s foundation. That’s where his other stories come in.

The trumpeter is the son of Jamil Nasser, a bass player from Memphis (born George Joyner) who moved to New York in 1956 and began a prolific and quite visible career. He was an especially popular accompanist for modern jazz pianists, first making his mark with fellow Memphian Phineas Newborn Jr. before working with Red Garland and Thelonious Monk, as well as Ahmad Jamal, with whom he collaborated for most of the 1960s and into the ’70s.

Muneer, one of Jamil’s three sons, is more than just a musician; he’s the author of Upright Bass: The Musical Life and Legacy of Jamil Nasser. Written in the first person, the book is not a conventional biography, or even an autobiography per se: “Dad asked me to write a memoir,” he says in the preface. He based the book on interviews with his father—conducted before Alzheimer’s disease ravaged the elder Nasser’s memory—and his extensive self-collected archive of photos, flyers, and news clippings.

Upright Bass offers a very different perspective on jazz life. Jamil released only one album as a bandleader (in 1961, when he was still George Joyner), otherwise he was known as a sideman. Sidemen don’t usually get a say in the realm of the jazz memoir—which is unfortunate, as Upright Bass demonstrates. Jamil went everywhere the leaders who employed him did (Muneer does some great detective work on his father’s time with Monk, for example), making him not only a star witness to and participant in history, but one who experienced it within the trenches.

Today, Jamil Nasser is generally thought of as a utility player, a sideman with a name but no strong voice of his own. Upright Bass shows that he was anything but: Jamil is a fearsome personality, a principled activist (often isolated even within the Black community of New York and, later, Hempstead, Long Island, because he was a devout Muslim) who demanded respect and self-possession, and someone who was always ready to give support (not just musically) to musicians and others in need. In the 1980s, he defied the anti-apartheid cultural boycott of South Africa, journeying there as a working musician not for the sake of profit, but to gather information firsthand. This was a man with a lot to tell us. And through his son, he does.

This leaves Muneer Nasser juggling two legacies. He has ensured that his father is not a forgotten sideman, while also making a memorable niche in D.C. jazz for himself. “My father’s field of activity transcended playing great bass lines and solos,” Nasser says. “[He was] an educator, jazz advocate, herbalist, record producer, concert organizer, fiction writer [of Big Willie, an unpublished novel about a Black cowboy], actor [Jamil had a small part in the 1996 movie The Preacher’s Wife, among others], and spiritual counselor.” His primary lesson to his son, Nasser adds, was to “live a balanced life, which encompasses creative, intellectual, spiritual, and economic pursuits. Lift as you climb!”

Blue House Session (Nasser’s second album, after 2019’s A Soldier’s Story) will no doubt land him some more gigs in the near future; while you’re there, buy the book.

Two conversations I had in September:

The first was with a much-loved D.C. jazz musician, as we stood together watching tenor and alto saxophonist BJ Simmons play at the Wharf’s Transit Pier during the DC Jazz Festival. “Wow, he sounds great,” the musician said. “I think I first heard him 10 years ago, and he was good then, but man. He’s really grown.”

The second conversation was after I’d seen Simmons again—playing in a quartet led by Tokyo pianist Yukako Yamano at St. Vincent Wine Bar in Park View—with a devotee of the local scene. “I’ve got a recommendation for you,” I said. “BJ Simmons.”

“Who’s that?” the devotee asked.

There it is in a nutshell. The musicians know Simmons, admire him, and appreciate his development. D.C. jazz fans, not so much.

Admittedly, that’s an oversimplification. Simmons has plenty of local fans, and across genres to boot. In fact, many jazz lovers who don’t necessarily know him by name have probably seen and heard him without realizing it. At this year’s U.S. Open, for example, Simmons found himself on a stage with Andre Agassi, blowing his heart out with his hard, smoky, acrobatic tenor sound. A few weeks before that, he was accompanying rapper Rakim at the Anthem as a member of the Illharmonic Orchestra. He’s toured with Harvey Mason, Millie Jackson, and Wale.

“It’s interesting, because there are superstars who know about me,” Simmons says. “But D.C. is interesting: I grew up here, went to Coolidge High School and everything. But I went away to college, and then I came back, then I left again. I’ve moved away from here so many times that people may not recognize me. But I’m in with the gospel scene, I’m in with the hip-hop scene, the go-go scene, the R&B scene.”

Not to mention the music education scene. Simmons has been a teacher for almost two decades, currently working at Stuart-Hobson Middle School in Capitol Hill.

That’s a lot of hats for anyone to wear, though neither an uncommon nor an unnecessary number for a working musician. In his heart of hearts, though, Simmons is a bebop jazz cat. And he hopes that his hit performance at DCJF will be a reboot for that wing of his work.

To that end, Simmons has just re-released his two jazz albums, 2014’s Acronyms and 2020’s We Wear the Mask. It was his band from the latter album—trumpeter Brandon Woody, bassist Herman Burney, and percussionist Jabari Exum, with drummer Tyler Leak sitting in for the album’s late Howard “Kingfish” Franklin—that accompanied Simmons (along with a string quartet) at the festival. 

We Wear the Mask, in particular, is a great cross section of Simmons’ versatility. Its offerings include originals that touch on Afrobeat, Latin funk, gospel soul, and jazz that isn’t quite free but is wide open. There are also jazz standards by Joe Henderson, Charles Mingus, and Duke Ellington, and even a brief, sinuous rendition of Samuel Barber’s classical “Adagio for Strings.”

So, how is it that such an accomplished musician isn’t burning up the D.C. jazz scene? Well, to oversimplify again, it’s in part because the local scene is very grassroots-oriented, and Simmons’ path has been through the infrastructure of the music industry.

Simmons has a master’s degree in entertainment business. But that business, struggling everywhere, is even more tenuous in D.C. “There’s no infrastructure here, no pipeline for artists and for putting out music,” he says. Looking for a steady paycheck, in 2016, he went to the entertainment capital: Los Angeles. He gigged, worked as a producer, got commissions for film and TV (including work on the now-defunct Black News Channel).

Then came a call from a very rich entrepreneur in 2018 to go to the Persian Gulf island nation of Bahrain. For six months, Simmons held a residency at a jazz club in the capital city of Manama; the tiny country is the 12th wealthiest in the world, and Simmons found himself forming professional relationships with billionaires and a member of the Bahraini royal family. “I became a partner with them,” he recalls. “And so I was in the club nightlife, booking DJs, strategizing, hosting shows. The restaurant industry there is quite thriving and competitive, and I was able to cut my teeth in that industry.”

After two years of such invaluable, and rare, experience, Simmons came back home to D.C. just in time for COVID to put a damper on everything. He’s been able to re-establish his musical life in the time since, though the city’s high cost of living, compounded by inflation and D.C.’s weak ties to the entertainment industry machine, has been an obstacle. Living in Bahrain, Simmons had a maid and a butler. Back home, he and his wife, an attorney, can’t afford to live in the District. 

“The landscape right now is quite shocking to me,” he says.

Despite the financial impediments, Simmons has designs on buying a home in Capitol Hill, and as such has been doubling down on his many musical projects. In addition to his work in R&B, hip-hop, and other styles, he does quite a few private jazz gigs. But he hopes to make an engagement at Blues Alley soon; he’s never played there as a leader, though it’s a long-standing ambition. He’s working on other shows as well.

With any luck, more local jazz fans will soon be as impressed with BJ Simmons, as so many musicians already are.

The DC Jazz Festival isn’t really 20 years old until next year, if you want to get pedantic about it. Its first edition was in 2005, back when it was still the Duke Ellington Jazz Festival and ours was a very different city. Still, the 2024 iteration is its 20th festival event. And I suppose if I’m getting pedantic, I should also concede that the fest was incorporated in 2004, which makes it 20 years old after all. Congratulations, DCJF, on surviving those awkward teenage years.

This milestone catches the festival in the midst of rebuilding from the havoc wrought by COVID—yes, still, just like the rest of us. DCJF emerged from lockdown in 2021 by moving from June to September when restrictions on gathering finally lifted. It has remained in September ever since, and consolidated (due to issues both budgetary and practical) from a festival that ran for over a week and reached into all eight wards to a Labor Day Weekend event at the Wharf in Southwest, with a few additional satellite concerts. 

This year, though, things are moving back in the right direction, thanks to the successes of these smaller incarnations. DCJF has been able to add two days to the 2024 schedule—now extending from Wednesday, Aug. 28 to Sunday, Sept. 1. It also booked gigs at the Hamilton, the Kreeger Museum, Takoma Station, Arena Stage, and Mr. Henry’s—reaching Wards 2, 3, 4, and 6, respectively: That’s halfway there. This year’s event also boasts a more balanced program between the big national and global names and the homegrown favorites—and, perhaps most interestingly, some concerts in which the local and national overlap. 

Willard Jenkins, the festival’s artistic director, strives for a well-balanced program. In that regard, he’s got plenty to be proud of. “You want great voices? Well, we got Dianne Reeves, Carmen Lundy, and on the emerging side, Samara Joy,” he says. “You want emerging artists? We’ve got [pianist] Emmet Cohen, [saxophonist] Lakecia Benjamin, [harpist] Brandee Younger, and the New Jazz Underground. If you want to be on the edge, we got [pianist] Kris Davis’ Diatom Ribbons, and we got the David Murray Quartet with D.C.’s own Luke Stewart.”

That’s just scratching the surface. The great Bill Frisell is here for the guitar nerds. Australian trumpeter James Morrison and English singer-songwriter Jacob Collier anchor the festival’s international component. There are also six National Endowment for the Arts Jazz Masters on hand. The aforementioned singer Reeves is one; the others include pianist Kenny Barron, bassists Ron Carter and Stanley Clarke, and drummers Terri Lyne Carrington and Billy “Jabali” Hart.

Then there’s the local scene. The festival’s 2024 roster is impressive, and it covers much of the same breadth as the artists mentioned above. You’ve got your legends: Saxophonist Paul Carr plays on Aug. 29; drummer Nasar Abadey and Supernova will be at Union Stage on Aug. 31; and the Michael Thomas Quintet will perform at District Pier, Aug. 31. 

You’ve got your great vocalists: Sharón Clark sings at the Kreeger on Aug. 29. For your emerging artists, there’s Ebban and Ephraim Dorsey at the Kennedy Center the same day; and for your cutting-edge explorers, there are Steve Arnold and Sea Change playing Transit Pier on Aug. 31. Also on the schedule are hardworking tentpole artists like trombonists Reginald Cyntje, who opens the proceedings at the Wharf on Aug. 31, and Shannon Gunn, whose ambitious Saffron project hits the Kennedy Center’s Millennium Stage on Aug. 30.

But let’s go back to those local-global hybrids, which this writer is most excited to see.

Bassist Corcoran Holt, a D.C. native, begins a two-year stint as the DCJF’s artist in residence this year. “The first thing that I wanted to do was honor my mentors, the people who have influenced and inspired me on my journey,” Holt says. “So we put together a thing at Arena Stage honoring Jabali”—the spiritual name taken by 83-year-old master drummer and D.C. native Hart. 

Hart will perform at the tribute, which is billed as Generations—but in keeping with that billing, two other drummers from younger generations, 48-year-old Johnathan Blake and D.C.’s 26-year-old Kweku Sumbry, will play alongside the master. They’ll be joined by another mix of local and national talents: New York trumpeter Jeremy Pelt and saxophonist Steve Wilson on the front line, Holt and D.C./Baltimore pianist Marc Cary in the rhythm section, and D.C.’s bottomlessly talented Christie Dashiell—an established star locally, but an emerging one in the larger jazz world—on vocals. Generations: Tribute to Billy Hart takes place Aug. 31 at Arena Stage.

You don’t have to be a connoisseur to know the name Sonny Stitt. The alto saxophonist, who was born in Boston, grew up in Detroit, and independently developed many of the same concepts as Charlie “Bird” Parker—placing Stitt on the ground floor of the 1940s bebop revolution—would have been 100 this year. Stitt was often overshadowed by Parker, seen only for his similarities and not for the highly individual sound and ideas he formulated before his untimely 1982 death, at the age of 58, here in D.C., where he spent his final years. 

Katea Stitt—program director of WPFW but also a jazz advocate and activist who happens to be Sonny’s daughter—knows better. “I have a daughter, and I have nieces and nephews who constantly ask questions about him,” she says. “And then I meet young players all the time who have studied Daddy, or are interested in his work, and so I was like, well, wouldn’t it be wonderful to celebrate him this year?”

DCJF made it happen. The Sonny Stitt Centennial Concert takes place on Sept. 1 at Arena Stage, led by Davey Yarborough, a D.C. saxophonist and much-loved jazz educator and mentor. Yarborough has also thought a lot about Stitt’s legacy; to a great degree, he embodies it. Stitt was Yarborough’s own teacher and mentor. More than that, Yarborough says, “I fellowshipped with him. I got to know how he cared about young people, because I was a younger person who was trying to navigate his field. He wanted to make sure that I didn’t take the wrong steps. He wanted me to capitalize on what his mistakes were, but also what his successes were. I got to see the personal side.”

Alongside Yarborough will be organist Charles Covington, drummer Keith Kilgo, and vocalist George V. Johnson—all of whom had relationships with Stitt. They’ll also participate in a panel discussion about the alto saxophonist, which Katea will moderate.

“Daddy stressed needing to be excellent, with knowing your instrument so that you could express yourself independent of any other player,” Katea says. “That’s what we see in all of these gentlemen that are going to be celebrating him.”

A great jazz festival is one that makes space for the genre in all its guises: honoring its past accomplishments, but also paying them forward in celebration of its present and in anticipation of its future. DCJF has almost always covered all of that ground, and events like the Generations and the Sonny Stitt Centennial are particularly glorious examples. DCJF isn’t yet what it was or what it should be—a citywide festival … But what it is is pretty damn good in its own right.

DC Jazz Festival starts on Aug. 28 and runs through Sept. 1. dcjazzfest.org. $25–$500. For the days and locations of performances mentioned above, see below:

James Morrison at Australian Embassy, 8 p.m. on Aug. 28

Ebban and Ephraim Dorsey Quintet at the Kennedy Center, 6 p.m. on Aug. 29
Sharón Clark at the Kreeger Museum, 7 p.m. on Aug. 29
Paul Carr with the Junto Trio at Takoma Station, 7 p.m. on Aug. 29

Shannon Gunn’s Saffron at the Kennedy Center, 6 p.m. on Aug. 30
Jacob Collier at the Anthem, 7:30 p.m. on Aug. 30

Generations: Tribute to Billy Hart at Arena Stage, 12:30 p.m. on Aug. 31
Kenny Barron Voyage Trio at Arena Stage, 4 p.m. on Aug. 31
Terri Lyne Carrington New Standards at Arena Stage, 6:30 p.m. on Aug. 31
Michael Thomas Quintet at District Pier, 3:15 p.m. on Aug. 31
Stanley Clarke N 4Ever at District Pier, 8:45 p.m. on Aug. 31
Steve Arnold & Sea Change at Transit Pier, 1 p.m. on Aug. 31
Nasar Abadey and Supernova at Union Stage, 8:30 p.m. on Aug. 31

The Sonny Stitt Centennial Concert at Arena Stage, 3:45 p.m. on Sept. 1
Ron Carter Trio at Arena Stage, 9 p.m. on Sept. 1
NEA Jazz Master Dianne Reeves at District Pier, 5 p.m. on Sept. 1
Bill Frisell Four at Transit Pier, 7:55 p.m. on Sept. 1

The richest jazz scenes are those that comprise a bunch of subscenes—the smaller jazz communities that operate around a specific geographic hub. Capitol Hill is a strong subscene these days, and some argued that in its day, the late, lamented venue HR-57 on 14th Street NW constituted a scene all its own. Often, the subscene features a specialized sound or style; the dyed-in-the-wool hard bop at HR-57 is an example, as is the experimental community that operates out of Rhizome in Takoma.

Far-flung and geographically and stylistically diverse though they might be, these subscenes are interdependent; members of each will cross-pollinate the others, and audiences freely float among them. When one subscene suffers, the others feel the blow; when one thrives, the others all do a little better.

In the post-pandemic rebuild, a thriving neighborhood subscene, not with a sound per se but with jam sessions as its central factor, has established itself in perpetually hip Mount Pleasant.

Jazz isn’t exactly a new arrival to the Northwest neighborhood, mind you—the farmers market on Lamont Plaza has hosted bands for at least the past 20 years. And around 2018-19, Elijah Jamal Balbed was creating jam sessions around town like a jazzy Johnny Appleseed—he planted one on Tuesday nights at Marx Cafe that remains healthy. In early 2020, before everything went dark, French hornist Abe Mamet was running the weekly show.

Post-pandemic, that session lives on. Popularly so. It’s now in the hands of singer Tibyron Quinn, who regularly packs the place on Tuesday nights, sometimes with more musicians than they have time to accommodate. Balbed is a regular; drummer-vibraphonist Chris Barrick is another, as is saxophonist Lionel Lyles (who, to be fair, makes a point of crossing every jam-session bandstand in this town). Mamet has been known to stop by, too.

I didn’t recognize any musicians in the house (besides Quinn) on the Tuesday night I visited (in the hottest week of the hottest summer on record—perhaps not the most conducive occasion), but it was packed. There were patrons of all ages eating and drinking, no small ask for a Tuesday at 10 p.m. There were regulars that Quinn recognized and came off the bandstand to hug and chat with. I was impressed by one jammer, a young trombonist (whose name I didn’t catch, but who was told by the bartender that he was too young to sit at the bar) with great chops on “East of the Sun (West of the Moon)” and “Days of Wine and Roses.”

Quinn at Marx Cafe makes up half of Mount Pleasant’s weekly jam session allocation. Drummer Will Stephens and Haydee’s represent the other.

Stephens is the force behind the DC Jazz Jam, a Sunday night institution since 2009 when it opened at the now-defunct Dahlak Eritrean restaurant on U Street NW. In 2015, the jam moved to the other end of the U Street corridor where it took up residence at the Brixton, which, alas, succumbed to the pandemic. Now Stephens is sticking close to home: Haydee’s is in his neighborhood. It’s also a literal mom-and-pop shop (run by namesake Haydee Vanegas and her husband, Mario Alas, with their kids sometimes on hand). Stephens runs the jam with a grant from the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities. 

“One of the criteria that goes into receiving that grant is whether the project supports small local business,” Stephens says. This small local business also happens to be a beloved neighborhood institution known for its great Mexican Salvadoran food and great live music.

Being a Sunday event, the DC Jazz Jam starts early during the dinner hour. There are tables filled with families and groups of 20-something margarita drinkers. When last I attended in mid-July, the place was also full of musicians waiting their turns. An alto saxophonist named Jordan Bell; Michael Keys, a teenage-looking trumpeter; guitarist Henry Sheppard; and singer Cybele Mayes-Osterman all took their turns with the house band—a quartet led by pianist Peter Edelman. 

But this is not a house band in the sense of “the cats who are there every week.” For the summer, Stephens is curating a series dubbed Pianist Envy. “There are so many great pianists in D.C.,” he says. “I thought [DC Jazz Jam] would feature a different one as host each week.” Better still, he adds, “I ask the hosts to bring in their own bands to serve as the house band. So they’re playing with the cats they’re most comfortable with.” July 28 features Jose André; future sessions will offer Alfred Yun, Justin Taylor, Darius Scott, and others.

But Mount Pleasant’s jazz subscene isn’t all about jam sessions. In addition to the Jazz Jam, Stephens’ project called the D.C. Jazz Collective performs bimonthly at Marx. The idea for the project took root while Stephens was on vacation in Bangkok, Thailand, one of the District’s sister cities. There he discovered that the late King Rama IX was a jazz devotee who also wrote something like 100 tunes, creating a formidable Thai jazz legacy. “[The Commission on the Arts and Humanities] has all kinds of grants for cultural exchanges with D.C.’s sister cities,” Stephens notes. “So I decided it would be cool to create one with Bangkok.” 

He formed an assemblage of musicians that variously includes bassists Steve Arnold, Percy White, and Zoe Jorgenson; saxophonists Lyles, Tedd Baker, and Mercedes Beckman; trumpeter Joe Herrera, pianists Oren Levine, Bobby Jasinski, and Amy K. Bormet; and guitarist Evan Samuels. There is a corresponding collective in the Thai capital and the two play each other’s music. (The Bangkok players supplement the Washingtonians’ compositions with other American jazz composers; the D.C. players add King Rama’s compositions to those of the Thai players.) On a Friday night every other month, Stephens gathers members at Marx to hold up their end of the exchange. 

Three big jazz events, two venues, one neighborhood. It all adds up to a subscene, and a good one. 

“It’s a great thing we’ve got going on,” says Stephens, who also occasionally serves as the house drummer for Quinn’s jams at Marx. “What Tibyron’s got going on is incredibly successful, and what I’m doing at Haydee’s is also successful. And it’s all just, like, a block or two from my house! It’s great to be bringing jazz, and a healthy audience for it, to my neighborhood.”

The jazz mostly plays on Sunday and Tuesday nights. And they’re free. The simple act of buying a beer (and maybe some pupusas) and facing the bandstand is enough to encourage its continuity.

How many work projects can you take on at one time? Not as many as Leigh Pilzer can. 

If you don’t know Pilzer from her regular seat in the DIVA Jazz Orchestra—drummer Sherrie Maricle’s blazing, nationally renowned all-women big band—you might have seen her playing baritone sax in the Smithsonian Jazz Masterworks Orchestra or the Bohemian Caverns Jazz Orchestra (in which she has also played alto, tenor, and soprano). Or, perhaps, you’ve stumbled across JLQ, the quintet she co-leads with trombonist and longtime collaborator Jen Krupa; Pals, her duo with bassist Amy Shook, another frequent collaborator; the Startet, her all-star combo with Shook, pianist Allyn Johnson, and drummer Greg Holloway; or her Seven-Pointed Star septet—whose personnel varies but at times has included Maricle, Shook, Johnson, and Holloway.

With all of that on her itinerary, you’ve surely seen her somewhere. In every case, Pilzer is one of the best musicians in the city and its best baritone saxophonist, period.

Where you haven’t seen her, however, is in the band she’s just added to the list. Pilzer’s Low Standards, a quartet with Krupa, Holloway, and organist Paul Bratcher, makes its debut on June 22 at Takoma Station. 

ISeven-Pointed Star has been her major recent focus: She used the project to record her latest album, Beatin’ the Odds, and to support the album following its March release. “I love the septet,” she stresses. “But it’s so much work. Just sorting through the music for it is a lot of work. And for this gig, I thought, ‘You know, let me do something different.’ I wanted something that was off the cuff and in the moment: a different playing experience.”

Which is to say that Low Standards doesn’t do dense, intricate arrangements; nor is there careful parceling out of solo space for every musician. The band will break out standards (hence the name, which also puns on the low pitch of Pilzer’s bari and Krupa’s trombone) as well as Pilzer’s more straight-ahead originals and play them “more in an older-school spirit of ‘Let’s get on the bandstand and make it happen,” she says. Not quite as unfettered as a jam session, but “in that direction.” It’s an approach that brings with it an element of suspense—even as Pilzer’s audience knows that the undisputed jazz badass can handle anything the bandstand throws at her. 

A D.C. native, Pilzer didn’t actually start playing saxophone until after she’d graduated from Bethesda Chevy Chase High School. She took piano lessons as a kid (and hated them), then took up cello in the fourth grade. She tried her hand at bassoon in high school, but kept up the cello even into her first year at Montgomery College, when she fell in love with jazz and picked up the alto sax. Asked to sub on the baritone at a gig, she was enchanted with its low register. “I played the bari and was like, ‘Oh, this is what it’s meant to be. This is what it is.’”

Saxophonist-arranger Bull Kirchner, living in D.C. at the time, told her to go to Berklee College of Music in Boston, which she did—but she dropped in and out of the degree program, coming back to D.C. in between and working the local jazz scene. Pilzer ultimately finished her bachelor’s at Berklee, but D.C. remained home.

It was while working in DIVA, which she joined in 2000, however, that she met Krupa. They became close friends after the trombonist moved to D.C. to join the Navy Commodores, and she and Pilzer would drive together to DIVA gigs. 

“We’d be in the car for six, seven hours, talking about everything,” Pilzer remembers. “One time we started talking about that collaborative, spontaneous spirit that you get with a smaller group. I said, ‘I want[ed] to get back to the straight-ahead stuff, the standards and the hard bop, and I feel like we’re both in the same place.’”

Pilzer asked Krupa to consider joining forces for a project—she even clarified that Krupa didn’t have to answer right away. But as soon as she finished talking, Krupa responded immediately: Yes.

Nearly 25 years later, Krupa remains Pilzer’s most frequent front line partner, up to and including Low Standards. 

That said, each of the quartet’s members has a long history with Pilzer. Loose and open gigs like the one at Takoma Station (where, by the way, you can expect to hear her venue-dedicated tune “Swingin’ at the Station”) are ultimately about making music with her friends. The June 22 show will be just that, she emphasizes—and in its finest form. “We’re just going to romp and stomp and have a great time.”

Leigh Pilzer’s Low Standards play at 7 p.m. on June 22 at Takoma Station. takomastation.com. $15–$20.

Friday and Saturday: Brazilian Guitar Masters Festival at Miracle Theatre and Catholic University

This weekend offers an opportunity to hear Brazilian masters of guitar from two different generations, who each bring their own unique songcraft touches: Yamandu Costa and João Bosco. Costa, 44 is a Latin Grammy-winning instrumentalist who plays a seven-string acoustic guitar rather than the customary six-string model. Raised in the southern grasslands area of Brazil, not far from Uruguay and Argentina, Costa, who initially was taught by his dad, has become acclaimed for his speedy, high-pitched finger work on tuneful, leisurely Brazilian samba and bossa nova, as well as on upbeat tango, Roma jazz, and swing jazz. Costa—who has played with orchestras, but will be solo on Friday at Miracle Theatre—is fond of flashy staccato runs up and down the strings with his fingernails moving in multiple directions. While such pyrotechnics helped establish his reputation, his playing is often most affecting when he slows down and lets the melodies sink in. On his recent duet album, Helping Hands, his picking and strumming alongside that of his classical guitarist wife, Elodie Bouny, is downright pretty. 

Bosco, now 77, has a college degree in civil engineering, but his passion was singing and playing guitar. Bosco was raised in a family of musicians, and in college he began listening to Miles Davis alongside the samba and bossa nova he was already familiar with. Soon after, while living in Rio de Janeiro, he began writing gorgeous and passionate songs with acclaimed lyricist Vinícius de Moraes. For decades now, Bosco has been writing joyous sing-alongs, busy but beautiful rhythmic sambas, and tender slow songs. Bosco is adept at playing percussion-like rhythms on his guitar as well as sweet, picked notes. On an early composition of “Vida Noturna,” his sentimental guitar chords are joined by jazzy piano and a romantic melody that he whistles and sings. Some of his compositions have taken on a greater meaning in Brazilian culture. He and the recently passed psychiatrist turned lyricist Aldir Blanc wrote a song “O Bêbado e a Equilibrista” that served as an amnesty anthem calling for the return of the Brazilians who were forced into political exile by Brazil’s then-military government. Bosco will be appearing with a band featuring Ricardo Silveira on electric guitar, who will only enhance the lushness of some cuts and the bouncy cadence of others. Yamandu Costa plays at 8 p.m. on Friday, May 31, at Miracle Theatre, 535 8th St. SE. educarteinc.org. $50–$70. João Bosco plays at 8 p.m. on Saturday, June 1, at the Catholic University Hartke Theatre, 3801 Harewood Rd. NE. educarteinc.org. $40–$50. —Steve Kiviat

Saturday: Children of the Gospel Choir’s 30th Anniversary at Lisner Auditorium

Over the past 30 years, thousands of students in grades 4 to 12 from the DMV have become members and alumni of the Washington Performing Arts Children of the Gospel Choir. After a competitive audition, selected students participate in a year of choral training, intensive workshops, and a variety of performance experiences. “The roots of the Gospel Choir was to give a platform to the young people of the District of Columbia and the larger DMV area where they could express themselves and bring gospel music as an art form to these main stages,” shares WPA’s artistic director Michele Fowlin. Over the years, the Choir has performed at the White House and the Washington National Cathedral, for major events—such as President Barack Obama’s first inaugural prayer service and the national memorial service for South African President Nelson Mandela, and it has sung with noteworthy musicians such as jazz pianist Matthew Whitaker and Broadway and pop singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles. In celebration of COTG’s 30th anniversary, this grand concert will feature former artistic directors Evelyn Simpson–Curenton and Dr. Thomas Tyler, as well as choreographer Diedre Neal, joining Fowlin, and this year’s cohort of Children of the Gospel Choir members, and more than 50 returning alumni. Fowlin, a public educator for more than 25 years, knows the importance of investing in arts and music education, citing studies showing that students involved in such programs earn higher grades, are more likely to complete high school, and likelier to attend and finish college. She notes that while some alumni of the program are now acclaimed artists such as opera singer Solomon Howard (who performs with the Metropolitan Opera), and Broadway star Stephen Scott Wormley, COTG has touched many more lives. “We’ve had those who have started their foundation here, and they’re now doctors, lawyers, and politicians,” she says. “They gained their confidence, speaking ability, and their discipline, right here in the arts.” Written by COTG’s first director Simpson-Curenton, who will direct the piece, the song “There’s a Dream/The Impossible Dream” has been performed by COTG since 1993, uniting 30 years of singers into one shared voice. Washington Performing Arts Children of the Gospel Choir starts at 7 p.m. on June 1 at Lisner Auditorium, 730 21st St. NW. washingtonperformingarts.org. $30-$40. —Colleen Kennedy

Saturday: Shannon and the Clams at the Black Cat

Shannon and the Clams are rock ’n’ roll lifers, but they still feel like the next big thing. Now seven albums into a 15-year career, they are riding the line between the buzzworthy bin and a legacy act. The four-piece are able to consistently release music that will make you want to dance and start a band, regardless of your musical proficiency or age. Their newest album, The Moon Is in the Wrong Place, is one of their deepest. It’s centered around the sudden death of the fiance of lead singer and bassist Shannon Shaw. While the group’s first six records may have more in common sonically with Guided By Voices and the Detroit Cobras, fellow band lifers that have a healthy appreciation of all things original in rock ’n’ roll, Shannon and the Clams’ latest album should satisfy those aural cravings, but it also offers some lyrical catharsis on par with Mount Eerie or Songs: Ohia. Just listen to the opening lines of the album’s closer, “Life Is Unfair,” (“How do you expect me to understand/ That the love of my life was taken away from me/ All the blossoms blooming/ Twilight looming/ Without you on this earth/ Life is unfair/ Yet beautiful”), and you’ll understand how their new stuff is deeper. But you’ll still want to dance. Shannon and the Clams play June 1 at the Black Cat, 1811 14th St NW, blackcatdc.com $25-30. —Brandon Wetherbee

Saturday and Sunday: Bill Evans at Blues Alley

Bill Evans, whether by way of a blessing or a curse, shares the same name with one of the most famous and influential jazz musicians of all time. The elder Evans, a pianist, who died in 1980, made his breakthrough working with trumpet titan Miles Davis. And would you believe it? The younger Evans, a tenor and soprano saxophonist (who is very much alive), did, too. In otherwords, this Evans has had to work that much harder to make a name for himself in jazz, what with that other guy’s shadow falling on him. Evans’ work with Miles came in the jazz legend’s 1980s electric era, which turns out to have been a boon. The work immediately identified Evans with the fusion movement, and in that regard he’s never been out of work very long. After Miles, he was a member of Mahavishnu Orchestra and of Elements; he also worked with Herbie Hancock, Randy Brecker, Medeski Martin & Wood, and most of the other major fusioneers. Yet he has never, in his 40-plus-year career, touched down at our own Blues Alley. That long-overdue engagement finally happens this weekend, which also serves as a release party for his 26th album, Who I Am, and a reintroduction to American audiences after years of working internationally. Evans leads an all-star fusion quartet with keyboardist Kevin Hays, bassist Gary Grainger, and drummer Dennis Chambers. Watch out: They burn. Bill Evans performs with Kevin Hayes, Gary Grainger, and Dennis Chambers at 7 and 9 p.m. on June 1 and 2 at Blues Alley, 1073 Wisconsin Ave. NW. $50 (plus a $7 fee). bluesalley.com —Michael J. West

Ongoing: Spring in a Moon Jar at the Silva Gallery x Latela Curatorial

The Silva Gallery x Latela Curatorial is located in the lobby of the Silva apartment building, but it’s far beyond the average lobby art. Latela has a multipronged practice that advises individuals, businesses, and organizations building their art collections, offers support and resources to artists, and curates exhibitions. Latela has often worked with area apartment buildings and frequently draws from a well of local artists, a way of reinforcing and supporting the local creative ecosystem in its own backyard. The latest show at the Silva is from D.C.-based artist Julia Chon, who works under the moniker Kimchi Juice. Chon has been visible around town with several large-scale murals, a collaboration with the Phillips Collection for its 100-year anniversary, and exhibitions of her painted earthenware kimchi pots. Much of her work pulls from Korean mythology and symbolism, and her mural work often leans toward the epic, in both size and subject matter. Spring in a Moon Jar shows a different mode of work for the artist. The paintings here are smaller and more intimate, focusing on Korean floral arrangements called “cocoji” and domestic scenes of women resting, washing, or fixing their hair—the picture of relaxation and being alone but not lonely. The floral arrangements feel suspended in their dark backgrounds, like pieces of nature plucked and preserved first in a vase and then in paint. What better respite could there be from a hot summer day than popping into an air-conditioned gallery and being surrounded by serene, restorative art? Spring in a Moon Jar is on view at the Silva Gallery x Latela Curatorial through June 30, open to the public Monday through Saturday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. and Sundays from noon until 5 p.m. latelacurtorial.com. Free. —Stephanie Rudig

Opening Tuesday: New York City Ballet Presents George Balanchine’s Treasured Jewels at the Kennedy Center

The Georgian American choreographer’s name belongs right before any mention of his more-than-half-century-old, mineral-rich ballet Jewels. That’s largely because of the kaleidoscopic walk-through of brilliant stones that are still shining behind the windows of Van Cleef & Arpels jewelry store on Fifth Avenue in New York. The three-part 1967 premiere of Jewels at the New York City Ballet allowed audiences to look into those emeralds, rubies, and diamonds as George Balanchine saw them. When the show first hit the stage, theatergoers were confused. Although it has since been performed at dance companies across the world, including stints on renowned stages for the Royal Ballet and Paris Opera Ballet, the storyline wasn’t easy to follow. Decades into his career as a dancer and choreographer, Balanchine had a penchant for readapting fantasy novels and narratives that could play out in dazzling theatricality on stage. But the plot behind Jewels isn’t as linear; it’s an ode to the personalities and lives of those gemstones inside the window displays. They don’t speak, but rather glimmer. Next week, that storied ballet will come to life at the Kennedy Center. Although the standard version performed worldwide is based on choreographic revisions to the first act of the ballet, “Emeralds,” in 1976, it still resonates with those displays that caught Balanchine’s eye. “New York City Ballet’s production of Jewels is performed as George Balanchine choreographed it and remains true to his vision,” according to a NYCB spokesperson. New York City Ballet will perform Jewels at 7:30 p.m. from June 4 to 9 at the Kennedy Center, 2700 F St. NW. kennedy-center.org. $39.–$139. —Heidi Perez-Moreno

When Allyn Johnson helmed a trio in a special Sunday night show at Takoma Station on May 5, it was the first time the pianist had led a gig since before the COVID-19 pandemic. Part of that was a matter of hardware: Michael Phillips, the club’s jazz impresario, has been trying to book Johnson for more than a year, but the musician wouldn’t bite unless he had a high-quality piano—something Takoma Station lacks. But on May 5, Phillips was finally able to rent a Steinway baby grand for Johnson and the concert was scheduled.

But Johnson has also been engaged in other pursuits. Professionally, he’s the director of the jazz program and big band at the University of the District of Columbia; personally, he’s finalizing a divorce. Being busy with work and life commitments, however, doesn’t mean he hasn’t missed playing his own music. When asked if the Takoma set was the beginning of a comeback, he answers, “I hope so!”

“I have other music that I’ve written, man, 10, 15 years ago that I still haven’t played—stuff sitting on my computer that’s waiting to be played and recorded, you know?” Johnson says. “I hope to do more engagements where I can play that stuff. I’m getting older, so I can’t just be waiting around.”

There’s already an execution in progress for some of this unplayed work. At Takoma Station, Johnson performed a gorgeous, sentimental ballad with gospel harmonies (they don’t call him “the Bishop” for nothing) and a slightly Latin-esque rhythm courtesy of bassist Romeir Mendez and drummer Eric Kennedy. The piece, titled “Mother Dear,” is part of a suite Johnson recently composed about his family. The suite, the native Washingtonian says, is called “Photo Album.” 

“In the past two years, I’ve lost a nephew to gun violence,” he explains. “And with that happening, of course you just start thinking about your family, start going through the family photo album and things like that. And it’s bittersweet, because you see photos of yourself when you were little, but then you see people in your immediate family who are gone.” (The piece for his nephew bears the heartbreaking title “Is There More I Could Have Done?”)

Johnson actually wrote the suite for a piano trio (conventionally piano, bass, and drums) plus a string quartet. In 2023, he recorded it as such—or tried to. The string quartet—which, in Johnson’s conception, isn’t just background but plays melody and harmony lines—didn’t work.

“I sent them the music like a month and a half before the session. So I get to the session, I’m assuming they’ve seen the music and practiced it,” he says. “The music wasn’t that difficult, technically speaking. But I got to the session and they hadn’t seen this music. We get started and the cellist is like, ‘I need to take a break.’ And I’m like, ‘We didn’t even do anything yet!’ It was just a fiasco, really.”

Johnson is ready to give it another go, this time with players from the National Symphony Orchestra. He’s just waiting for funding (from UDC, which sponsored last year’s sessions and will sponsor this year’s do-over) to come through.

Some of the pianist’s unknown works aren’t his own compositions, but original, large-ensemble arrangements of pieces in the jazz repertoire that he wrote for the UDC Big Band. In terms of leadership, Johnson is more interested right now in playing his original tunes within the trio format. 

Also on his radar, Johnson adds, is solo performance: He says he likes playing “I don’t know about more, but as much—as playing with horn players and things like that.”

Do you hear that, venue owners and talent buyers of the DMV? Herein stands a world-class pianist, ready and willing to light up your bandstands. All you need is a good piano and the right opportunity. 

We can all agree Allyn Johnson and his music is overdue for a resurgence in our fair city. So, to those of you who have the means to make that happen: Get on it.

Thursday: Belle and Sebastian at the Anthem

Don’t forget this show highlighted in last week’s City Lights: After Belle and Sebastian’s Sarah Martin graduated from university, she took a job in a local bookshop. “My mum was like, ‘Yeah, but what are you really going to do?’” Martin tells City Paper. “I was like, ‘No, this is fine because I’m joining this band and I want to do something that won’t be too difficult to give up.’ She was like, ‘That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.’” Her mum needn’t have worried. —Christina Smart

Saturday: The Villains Ball at the AutoShop 

Put those Mickey Mouse ears and Superman shields back in the attic—far away from the wicked peripheries of the antiheroes and bad guys running rampant at DC’s Villains Ball. Here’s the time to embrace the characters often overshadowed by their hero counterparts, because even villains need time away from their diabolical plans. This year’s home base will morph out of the AutoShop and into a safe haven for those deemed enemies across all fandom dimensions. Last year’s inaugural ball saw popular anime, comic book, sci-fi, and Disney villains that blurred enemy lines into a circle of its very own. Cruella De Vil was in rare and various forms: donned in floor-length Dalmatian scarves, white petticoats, and lace masks. Majin Buu (from the Dragon Ball manga series) made it to the function in a bright pink suit and even brighter feathers—a similar pink hue to the feathers pinned in Marie Antoinette’s hair. This Ball allows fandom enthusiasts to put themselves in the shoes of their favorite villain, where Roquois Clarke, event organizer and co-founder of Plus Ultra Entertainment, says people often find common ground with the bad guys. “People can realistically empathize with them in certain situations, and it kind of creates that love for them.” The evening will celebrate the villains’ stories with like-minded foes—from lightsaber battles from martial arts group Urban Force to acro-pole dancing inspired by the villainous Golden Woman of Netflix’s Love, Death & Robots. And one lucky attendee will be crowned Villain of the Year. The Villains Ball starts at 8 p.m. on May 4 at the AutoShop, 416 Morse St. NE. villainsball.plusultraentertainment.com. $135–$235. —Heidi Perez-Moreno

Saturday and Sunday: Jazz Greats at Takoma Station 

Some wonderful music has transpired at Takoma Station since it brought live jazz back to its stage a few years ago. Yet, some wonderful music has also bypassed the Upper Northwest tavern because it doesn’t have the space for the grand piano that many of the top 88ers insist upon. That changes this weekend—if only for the weekend. A concert grand piano is coming to the Station’s floor (taking up what’s usually table space) especially for the use of two jazz grand masters. Benito Gonzalez, a wizard of the keys who was based in D.C. during the 2000s before moving on to New York, takes the piano bench on Saturday night as the head of a trio. The next night, “Bishop” Allyn Johnson, a D.C. lifer and one of our fair city’s best and most accomplished jazz talents, does the same. If the names aren’t enough to whet your appetite, consider: It’s expensive to rent a grand piano, and it will displace something like a fifth of Takoma Station’s customer capacity. But the powers that be have decided that these two musicians are so good, they have to make that sacrifice. Benito Gonzalez and the Allyn Johnson trio perform at 7 p.m. on May 4 and 6 p.m. on May 5, respectively, at Takoma Station, 6916 4th St. NW. jkproductions.org. $20–$25. —Michael J. West 

Sunday: La Perla at Rhizome

La Perla, a woman-led trio made up of Bogotá-based musicians Karen Forero, Giovanna Mogollón, and Diana Sanmiguel, have made it their life’s mission to master the intricate beats shaped by the traditional sounds along Colombia’s Caribbean coastline. So when they began playing in 2014, their vocal and percussion styles blended magic—so much so that they’ve been dubbed the “three Colombian drum witches.” The trio built this reputation through years of playing gaitas and hand drums, and mastering folk singing styles. Their music fuses many of the high-energy and fast-paced rhythms found in traditional Colombian cumbia, bullerengue, and vallenato genres. Critics have deemed their work as reinventing Colombian music. They’ve released one EP—Paren La Bulla—and several singles including a feminist hymn on the struggles women in Latin America face. (It was featured on the Netflix show Siempre bruja, aka Always a Witch, in 2018.) This weekend’s performance at Rhizome DC will be their first in the DMV where they’ll be joined by Taxi Vision, a Queens-based six-piece that blend Ecuadorian, Brazilian, and Italian musical influences. La Perla play at 5 p.m. on May 5 at Rhizome, 6950 Maple St. NW. rhizomedc.org. $15-$25. — Heidi Perez-Moreno

Monday: Babehoven and Grocer at DC9

Babehoven are a duo that specializes in pleasant sounds with well-delivered, well-sung vocals that’ll get you swaying back and forth with someone special. Their newest, Water’s Here in You, is a bit more fleshed-out than 2022’s Light Moving Time. The group are getting more sonically adventurous without losing their sound. It’s nice they’re playing in a room as intimate as DC9. It’ll be interesting to hear songs like “Millennia” and “Chariot” in this setting. They’re the kind of tracks that sound fantastic on headphones and may reveal more in a live setting. The opening band, Grocer, are a trio steeped in catharsis, delivering guitar-based angst that’s part math rock, part grunge, part post-punk. With three different singers providing three distinct types of delivery, there are a lot of Sonic Youth vibes (which is a good thing). Their recent 9-song LP, Bless Me, does a fine job illustrating the unique styles of each singer while showcasing the unity of sound. There’s no weak link and the production they achieved at Cash4Gold Studios in their hometown of Philadelphia is quite good, especially on “Blue Goose” and “Subtext.” It’ll serve as a good calling card for both the band and the studio. This is a bill with acts that have a lot of similarities (both are guitar-based, both have women singers (sometimes), both are up-and-comers in the rock scene and have potential to land on large-scale festival bills in 2025 and beyond), but the Venn diagram between their sounds doesn’t have a ton of overlap. That’s great and far too rare. Babehoven, Grocer, and Aunt Katrina play at 8 p.m. on May 6 at DC9, 1940 9th Street NW. dc9.club $18–$20. —Brandon Wetherbee

Friday, Sunday, Monday, Wednesday: Last Year at Marienbad at AFI Silver 

However you feel about this enigmatic, divisive masterpiece, its reach is so pervasive that I swear you can see its influence in last year’s Super Mario Bros. Movie. But the delirious visual dazzle of director Alain Resnais’ 1961 drama, Last Year at Marienbad, has not always been easy to access. Old-timers may remember catching the film in a snowy UHF broadcast on Annandale’s Channel 56, or in a muddy 16mm print at Sidwell Friends’ summer cinema series. Thanks to the AFI’s Recent Restorations, cinephiles can see a 4K upgrade made from the original negative. The plot, such as it is, revolves around art-house power couple Giorgio Albertazzi and Delphine Seyrig, who play unnamed, impeccably dressed guests at an ornate chateau where they may or may not have met the year before. This central mystery—whether these people even know each other—is never solved. If anything, reality becomes less certain as the pair individually and together navigate an intricate baroque architecture. It’s a 94-minute cinematic game with no straightforward rules, and detractors may sympathize with critic Pauline Kael, who famously dismissed its influence as “creeping Marienbadism.” But what keeps viewers glued to their seats is Sacha Vierny’s exquisite black-and-white cinematography, tracking shots taking in every decadent detail of this uncanny palace (played by a number of different palaces around Munich), and capturing Seyrig’s classical facial structure and jet-black hair illuminated like she’s a glamorous vision of Ernie Bushmiller’s Nancy. You may not know what it all means, even after repeat viewings, but it’s so gorgeous it will sweep you away, and maybe that’s the ultimate significance of its peerless, mystifying aesthetic. Last Year at Marienbad screens May 3, 5, 6, and 8 at AFI Silver, 8633 Colesville Rd., Silver Spring. silver.afi.com. $13. —Pat Padua

Now open: Brilliant Exiles: American Women in Paris, 1900–1939, at the National Portrait Gallery

We’re all too familiar with the literary men of the Lost Generation, but we know less about that same generation of American women artists who found themselves in Paris during the early 20th century. These painters, performers, writers, and fashion designers are the stars of the National Portrait Gallery’s latest exhibition, Brilliant Exiles: American Women in Paris, 1900–1939. Through photographs, paintings, sculptures, drawings, and biographies, discover the stories of 60 women who explored their authentic identities away from America’s restrictive culture. After fleeing discrimination based on class, gender, race, and sexual identity, the women pursued their ambitions in Paris and built cultural landmarks, influenced modernist movements, and created bold feminist legacies. Brilliant Exiles opens with Edward Steichen’s “In Exaltation of Flowers,” a sprawling three-panel portrayal of three It Girls—Katharine Nash Rhoades, Marion H. Beckett, and Mercedes de Cordoba—each represented by a flower whose attributes reflect their personalities. But we learn that these women were more than mere muses: Beckett studied postimpressionist art, Rhoades helped establish and run the Freer Gallery of Art (now the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Asian Art), and Cordoba worked as a fashion illustrator and correspondent before pursuing an acting career. Many of the women featured in Brilliant Exiles received more attention for their beauty than for their talent or intelligence, but that didn’t stop them from reclaiming their identities through their art. You’ll see portraits of Isadora Duncan, the mother of modern dance, dancing barefoot and scantily clad; Natalie Barney, an out and open lesbian who hosted a literary salon where other queer women could gather safely; and Josephine Baker, a beloved Black performer who satirized colonial stereotypes of African culture. Each story is compelling, heartbreaking, and empowering in equal measures. I highly recommend the accompanying podcast from curator Robyn Asleson. As you wander, ask yourself: What were they running away from? What would they think of the progress we have (or haven’t) made? The National Portrait Gallery’s Brilliant Exiles: American Women in Paris, 1900–1939, is on view through Feb. 23, 2025. npg.si.edu. Free. —Samantha Ostwald 

Rico Nasty and Boys Noize: HARDC0RE DR3AMZ

Though I haven’t had the pleasure of confirming this, I imagine HARDC0RE DR3AMZ is best listened to while wearing a bikini and drugged-up on a dance floor, preferably in a Berlin nightclub or, if possible, aboard a cruise ship. A cruise ship because that’s where the two artists behind this glitchy, hedonistic three-song EP—rapper Rico Nasty, a Prince George’s County native, and German Iraqi producer Boys Noize—met eight years ago. Their party-filled friendship led to two singles: 2020’s pulsing “Girl Crush,” and “Money,” a 2021 track featuring Flo Milli that sounds like a playground taunt placed over a thumping electro beat. Both were departures from the rage rap, sugar trap concoctions Rico has been known for since her breakout hit “Smack a Bitch” took off in 2018. The duo’s latest effort, HARDC0RE DR3AMZ, released on March 29, is even further removed. The EP starts with “Arintintin,” a jubilant dance track with a nonsense title that Rico repeats over and over again in an addictive hook. (Speaking about “Arintintin,” Rico said she and Boys Noize wanted to make something “so fucking annoying that you’re going to be singing it all day.”) The equally unseriously titled “Vvgina,” featuring Locked Club, follows. In an auto-tuned voice, Rico recounts heartbreak, confessing: “I hate having fun/ ’Cause it reminds me of you.” It’s hard to believe her admission while she sings it over a joyful club beat that makes breaking up sound like a riot. Rounding out the EP is “H.O.T.,” a swaggering song on which Rico raps about sex, clubbing, and the lifestyles of the hot and famous. HARDC0RE DR3AMZ is certainly a left turn for Rico. Then again, slamming into a left turn is about the most Rico Nasty thing the genre-fusing artist, who has dabbled in hyperpop, pop punk, and screamo, could do. It doesn’t reach the heights of her best work, found on previous albums such as Nasty and Anger Management, but it’s not intended to. All that HARDC0RE DR3AMZ seems to be after is a good time, and it’s having one. Over the syrupy dance track driving “H.O.T.” forward, Rico tells you everything you need to know: “This shit fye.” Then she tells you about a dozen more times, for good measure. —Ella Feldman

The Messthetics and James Brandon Lewis: The Messthetics and James Brandon Lewis

From the moment they formed in 2016, the Messthetics—the trio featuring Fugazi veterans Joe Lally (bass) and Brendan Canty (drums) with experimental guitarist Anthony Pirog—made a bold statement to the increasingly frayed notion of genre. Their loud and choppy instrumental music was conceived at the rarely visited confluence of post-hardcore, prog, and avant-garde jazz. It’s hard to call it fusion, per se, but neither does it fit comfortably into any of those streams. Does a collaboration with James Brandon Lewis, one of the most inventive and acclaimed jazz saxophonists of his generation, help crystallize things in the jazz direction on their zesty eponymous album, released March 15? No. It merely poses the questions anew.

Here’s one: What the hell do we call the album’s third track, “That Thang”? All four musicians come charging out of the gate with punky aggression, Pirog and Lewis doubling the melody and Canty sounding like he’s punishing his poor snare drum and crash cymbal. But the tune they’re pounding on is rhythmically off-kilter. It has a triplet feel that’s more at home in jazz, a gait that suggests funk, and an internal cadence that might have been a hip-hop MC’s. Then comes Pirog’s solo, which would fit with those of the classic rock guitar gods were it not for the querying effects he uses on his ax; Lewis follows with a line that channels free-jazz icon Albert Ayler in its coarsening tone, the James Brown Band in its percussive attack, and Clarence Clemons in its swagger. That’s just one example. Elsewhere, “Emergence” begins with a psychedelic cavalcade of guitar, downshifts into hard-driving pop rock (with Lewis’ sax giving it a distinctly ’80s feel), then gives the sax an improvised workout against Ramones-like aggression. “Railroad Tracks Home” uses a hop-along country rhythm (think “Sixteen Tons” or “King of the Road”) that Lewis pours soul sauce all over with his solo; Pirog tempers it with a mellowed-out, atmospheric one. It’s tempting, but too easy to assert that Pirog and Lewis act as a partnered front line. That’s often outwardly true—if one overlooks how locked-in Canty and Lally are to what they’re doing. The throbbing figure that Lally plays on the medium-slow “Three Sisters” isn’t just an accompaniment to the intertwined guitar and sax lines: It’s a punchy counterpoint to them. And while Lewis grabs attention by building—from sinuous and seductive to brawny and adrenalized (paving the way for a manic rock ’n’ roll explosion from Pirog)—the whole enterprise hangs entirely on Canty’s relentless pulse. Change what he does even a little, and the thing falls apart. If it doesn’t merit the “fusion” tag, it’s because that tag suggests a blending of musical elements to create something new. The Messthetics and James Brandon Lewis is too organic for that. Lewis is a guest here, but he simply steps in and does what he does, and it works. Nobody needs to alter their course or meet anybody else halfway. Instead of presenting a new and separate hybrid, then, the collaboration shows us a strange and wonderful world where their musical approaches existed in tandem all along. They were just the intrepid explorers who thought to look there. —Michael J. West

dreamcastmoe: Molly’s Son

More joy, more warmth, more beats per minute—everything on dreamcastmoe’s Molly’s Son feels like the D.C. indie R&B/club singer has brightened his emotional horizons. The artist, who goes by Davon Bryant when not performing, has been in this mode before, including the brisk 2021 track “L Foot, Right,” but never so thoroughly. And he’s not hiding the reasons: The new six-song EP, released Feb. 16, was inspired partly by a buoyant poem his mom wrote about him, and partly the gratitude he feels for making it into his 30s with a global footprint as an artist. Sounds potentially corny, right? No worries: dreamcastmoe hasn’t lost his touch for gentle self-deprecation.

“Oh yeah you like pasta?” he ad-libs during “We Gone Make It,” a song about evolving love that’s backed with optimistic synth lines and a new jack-adjacent rhythm. Likewise, a celebration of pickup basketball, “Hand Down, Man Down,” is sprinkled with on-court gripes (“stop fuckin’ fouling me like that!”). The percussive backing track by previous collaborator ShunGu, meanwhile, speaks to decades of D.C. funk. The breezy, lusty “On the Beach” is a different kind of throwback. dreamcastmoe dug it out from a 2017 session in Los Angeles, and it not only fits the EP’s sonic vibe, but it also serves as a reminder that his core vocal talents—the fluid but occasionally achy delivery, the easy range—were mature a long time ago. A remix of the cut by New York production duo musclecars closes the EP with outdoor rooftop energy. Elsewhere, the bass-soaked “Preach” stiff-arms haters and sermonizers, while the sax-accented “Abuse It” brims with romantic possibility: “I see you smile/ It’s been awhile/ Since I’ve been inside your place,” dreamcastmoe croons, not with any specific expectations, but certainly with an open heart. —Joe Warminsky

Sub-Radio: “Ceilings” (Single)

Sub-Radio know a thing or two about going viral. During the pandemic, the D.C.-based indie-pop band gained international attention, using the power of Reddit to livestream their shows, resulting in a substantial increase in their social media following. So it only makes sense that they would cover a song that also gained notoriety virally: Lizzy McAlpine’s “ceilings.” While the original is a melancholy ballad of what it’s like to be young and in love, Sub-Radio take their version to the ’80s dance floor (right down to nicking the drum intro from Madonna’s “Material Girl”). While working on the song, Sub-Radio posted an Instagram video of band members lamenting that “ceilings,” with its 6/8 time signature, can’t be turned into a dance song. (Side note to Sub-Radio: One of the greatest dance sequences ever caught on film, “America” in West Side Story, is in 6/8—the tempo does not determine whether a person can dance to the song; it’s whether or not that person has rhythm). But with instrumentation and a brightness in the production that recalls Duran Duran, Erasure, New Order, and OMD, Sub-Radio’s astute arrangement on “Ceilings,” released March 1, alters the time signature (for people that clap on the one and the three) and brings the heartbreak to the dance floor. It’s an inventive adaptation of the song that turns longing into something you can shake your booty to. —Christina Smart

Blood Family Reunion: Lucky Mutation

Hey dreamsters, Blood Family Reunion bring all the breathy vocals, arcane lyrics, synthy sounds, fuzzy guitars, and heavy drums on their full-length debut, Lucky Mutation. Very appropriately recorded on Halloween weekend 2023, at White Star Sound outside of Charlottesville, the D.C. dream-pop quartet’s new album was released on March 8 and follows their promising 2022 four-song EP, Ghost Girls. The band—featuring Joe King on guitars, Donovan Lessard on drums and keyboards, and singer-guitarist Pam Carder, with Stephen Lilly, who also engineered, mixed, and mastered the album, on bass, with additional engineering help from Orion Faruque—crafts an album that’s atmospheric, moody, and intimate. The opening track and first released single, “Bluebird,” weaves a sonic tapestry with shimmering guitars, bouncing drums, and Carder’s haunting vocals floating effortlessly above it all. Tracks such as “Summer Day Lens Flare” and the standout title track showcase the band’s otherworldly vibes and decadent sound waves. The heavy guitars and drums closing out “Seaglass” bring out a darker, heavier dimension to their sound, something that they could explore more. Carder’s witchy vocals are the undeniable centerpiece, casting a sonic spell—a dash of delicacy, a note of vulnerability, and a sweep of seduction, but always strong in her conjurings. There are touches of the dark beauty of the Cocteau Twins throughout and the band even nods to the Cure’s “Pictures of You” in “Crawl Space.” Meanwhile, King’s sometimes soaring and often wonderfully staticky guitar work and Lessard’s keys add texture and depth to the music, while Lilly’s bass lines and Lessard’s buzzy drumming provide a solid foundation for the band’s sound. Even in the album’s more introspective moments—there are lots of references to Greek mythology, graveyards, and general esoterica—an underlying sense of hope shines through the murkiness. The 12-track album closes with the extended “Night Begins.” Over nine minutes long, the song is a lush, lovely lullaby, and a fitting closer to this sonic dreamscape. Blood Family Reunion’s Lucky Mutation, released March 7, is available for streaming or purchase on Spotify, Bandcamp, and iTunes. Blood Family Reunion play at 7:30 p.m. on April 5 at Galactic Panther in Alexandria with NAYAN and the Beanstock Library. galacticpanther.com. The band also takes part in QUEERING SOUND, running May 15 to 31 at Rhizome. rhizomedc.org. —Colleen Kennedy

NØ MAN: Glitter and Spit

It’s relatively early in 2024 but do not be surprised if Glitter and Spit by NØ MAN makes it onto year-end best of lists. One of the first things you notice on this record, released March 29, is the audio fidelity. It’s fantastic. Each instrument stands out. This is not a muddy mix that feels cold and detached. The separate guitar parts on opening track “Eat My Twin” (now that’s a great opening track title!) and standout track “Can’t Kill Us All” are especially clear. There’s a bit of Deftones in their White Pony era going on in Glitter and Spit. It’s hardcore that’s allowed to breathe. 

Like most hardcore acts, you can easily ignore the lyrics if you want. The growl is good, but it’s still a growl. At first listen, you can only really decipher what Maha Shami is singing during breaks on songs like “Glitter and Spit” and on their cover of Lydia Lunch and Rowland S. Howard’s “Burning Skulls.” But once you do decipher the lyrics on your second and third listen, man, this record gets much better. The lyrics are dark and timely. This is not an opportunistic release or an attempt to capitalize on the atrocities currently unfolding in Palestine. But it’s absolutely related to those atrocities. In the aforementioned “Can’t Kill Us All,” Shami, the daughter of Palestinian refugees, sings, “Balfour dreams of exile and the natives are getting hostile/ Balfour dreams of exile birthright cleansing.” The song is relating the 1917 Balfour Declaration to exactly what’s going on today in Gaza even though this record was written before October 2023. The final lines on the album come from the cover song. Shami may not have penned them, but she sure embodies them throughout the album: “Nothing scares me anymore/ Burning skulls rise once more.” The record closes with “Damaar دمار,” an instrumental that’ll make you want to put the record on again. In the era of TikTok and Instagram Reels, having a closing track that nicely segues into the opener isn’t a bad idea. This is, start to finish, an excellent record. At 28 minutes and 27 seconds, it’s over before you want it to end. —Brandon Wetherbee

The North Country: The Future’s All We Need 

Passports aren’t required for the North Country’s latest album, The Future’s All We Need, out April 26 on House of Joy. The semi-D.C.-based experimental pop collective releases their fourth full-length album in the past 12 years, the follow-up to 2022’s collaborative EP, Born at the Right Time (Exquisite Corpse). The Future’s All We Need continues the self-styled indie-pop futurists’ delightful combination of catchy melodies and poignant social commentary, all written by the various band members. The two released singles, “Be Here Now” and “The Invisible Hand,” demonstrate the North Country’s thoughtful pop prowess. “Be Here Now” is an uplifting pop song that melds bits of jazz and funk into a meditation about mindfulness amid a cacophony of distractions, overthinking, and FOMO; the accompanying music video has all the color and playfulness of Sesame Street. “The Invisible Hand” brings together 1980s new wave sounds and Gordon Gekko vibes, as the band’s founder and frontperson Andrew Grossman purrs about the conspicuous consumption and casual cruelties of the uberwealthy over breathy background vocals and catchy synth. It’s the sort of song that North Country excel at: You’re not sure if you want to dance all night or start a revolution. The latest album calls upon a wide range of influences including the Talking Heads and Tom Tom Club, David Bowie, and LCD Soundsystem in addition to that glorious year 2017 when both the Killers and Arcade Fire heartily embraced disco. Grossman often sing-speaks the straightforward but clever lyrics with singers Margot MacDonald and Laurel Halsey harmonizing, la-la-ing, and cooing as backing vocals. The rhythm section of Austin Blanton on bass and Kirk Kubicek on drums provide a bouncy, happy foundation, with sonic explorations by guitarist Jon Harmon, keyboardist Halsey, and Grossman on synth. The Future’s All We Need is 11 tracks of genre-defying, danceable deliberations on 21st-century civilization and its discontents: “San Antonio Pot Brownies” is a springy, silly ode to quietly quitting, and “No One’s Listening” is a space-age cabaret warning about solipsistic oversharing, while “We the People” is a funky manifesto against corrupt politicians. All band members contribute to songwriting, which adds to the eclecticism of their influences, sound, and lyrics, but together the songs are connected by themes of nostalgia, disillusionment, and brokenness, with an underlying thread of hope and self-betterment tying it all together. The North Country’s The Future’s All We Need vinyl is available to preorder on Bandcamp. Stay tuned for the band’s upcoming summer tour. —Colleen Kennedy

Joe Brotherton is essentially the artist-in-residence at St. Vincent wine bar in Park View. The live music schedule posted outside their front door on Georgia Avenue NW varies each week, but the trumpeter’s name sits in special and unchanging font at the top.

“The second time I played there, right when they first started doing music, they came up and they were like, ‘What have we got to do to get you to play here once a week?’” recalls Brotherton, 49, who released a quartet album titled Here to Hear on February 12. “I was like, ‘Well, we’re always available on Monday, so let’s do Mondays.’ It was quiet for a while, but now it just bubbles over every Monday.”

It’s true. On the Monday night I stopped in to see the JB3 (with pianist Ryan Hanseler and drummer Tyler Leak joining Brotherton on the small upstairs bandstand), the few empty tables all bore “Reserved” signs. Not everyone is engaged in close listening to JB3’s rollicking take on Louis Armstrong’s “Big Butter and Egg Man”—as is often the case, post-solo applause comes at my own instigation—but they’re here and they’re spending money, which is exactly what the band are here for. 

Picking an Armstrong tune isn’t happenstance. Brotherton’s top billing also includes the tagline “Sounds of New Orleans,” a nod to St. Vincent’s New Orleans theme. Here to Hear closes with two Crescent City standards, “Bourbon Street Parade” and “Li’l Liza Jane” (the latter also closes the set I witness in Park View). But that’s just one in the trumpeter’s bag of tricks. The album also includes a post-bop rendering of the Gershwins’ “Summertime”; the hip-hop-charged “Friday Night Funky Jont,” featuring a rap by Flex Matthews; the samba “Brazilian Rain”; and the fiery swinger “Drizzle’s Abacus” with a turn by saxophonist Elijah Easton. All, save “Summertime” and the New Orleans tunes, are originals. 

“It covers all of my favorite sounds,” says Brotherton of Here to Hear. “The Afro-Latin sound, the burner swing, the New Orleans stuff, and then the hip-hop. It’s kind of my personality, what you’re hearing on the record.” Brotherton’s quartet will also bring his personality to Jazz Night at Westminster Presbyterian Church on March 29.

Brotherton has been a staple of the D.C. jazz scene—a consistent and popular presence—since the ’90s. Those of us who cover the scene have somewhat overlooked him. He possesses a clear, clean, somewhat dark trumpet tone with beautifully subtle vibrato and a casual facility that can make speedy bravura runs feel tossed off. Brotherton belongs to the top tier of DMV horn players.

In fairness, though, the writerly neglect doesn’t seem to have hurt Brotherton’s prospects for work. “I am in demand,” he acknowledges. “It’s about connections; it’s about hustle. I work with tons of different bands around town, on other people’s recording projects and all that; and then I’ve got my own trio and quartet and quintet. All of that keeps me working.”

Born in Nashville, Tennessee, and raised in Knoxville until he was 11, Brotherton then moved with his family to Tampa Bay, Florida, where he graduated from the Pinellas County Center for the Arts. After one year at a “little podunk school” in Indiana (which he declines to name), he auditioned for the Marine Band and found himself in the D.C. area. Discharged after four years, he started independently contacting people he wanted to study with. It worked. “I got with [trumpeters] Wynton Marsalis and Ingrid Jensen, and [saxophonist] Ron Blake. So it’s like I went to my own college.”

He also spent ample time at area jam sessions, especially at the now-defunct HR-57, where he met fellow trumpeter Thad Wilson and joined the latter’s big band. He stayed through the band’s residencies at One Step Down, Bohemian Caverns, and Twins, and still plays with Wilson whenever he reconvenes the ensemble. That was Brotherton’s launchpad to a broader career in the D.C. scene. Soon he was leading his own bands in addition to playing with others—not just in (multiple styles of) jazz, but go-go, salsa, and “corporate scene, top 40-type bands for events and stuff,” he says.

In short, if you’re reading this column, it’s unlikely that you’ve missed out on Brotherton entirely. If you somehow have, remedy that immediately. The affordable $10 admission at Westminster on the 29 is a fine opportunity; Monday nights at St. Vincent are even better. Here to Hear, available on vinyl as well as just about every streaming platform, might be best of all: You can take it home and wear it out, and it will make you even more likely to look for one of his eclectic and immensely enjoyable live gigs.

Joe Brotherton’s quartet plays from 6 to 9 p.m. on March 29 at Westminster Presbyterian Church. westminsterdc.org.