“I didn’t choose my name. It chose me. My grandmother, who passed away when I was 13, told my mother to give me that name before I was even a person. When my mother and father conceived me, she told them that they were going to have a musical child and her name is going to be Jazzmeia. Everybody laughed at her and said “she’s old, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” A couple weeks later, my mother found out she was pregnant and because everybody was shocked, they said “if she said this to you, you do it.”
So Jazzmeia is my legal name.
I was only 13 years old and I didn’t care, I thought jazz was old people music. I liked neo soul music — Jill Scott, Erykah Badu, Lauryn Hill, the Fugees — but also old soul, The Temptations, Chaka Khan, Natalie Cole, Earth, Wind & Fire, Stevie Wonder, The Gap Band… I didn’t know anything about jazz.
So he gave me this CD — it had Shirley Horn, Betty Carter, Sarah Vaughn, Nancy Wilson, Little Jimmy Scott, Art Blakey, Miles Davis, Abby Lincoln, so many different artists that I had never even heard of, and I just transcribed everything. There were 27 songs on the CD and when I went back to him, within a week, I had learnt all of them, the solos, the pianos, bass, everything.
He was very happy, but it was also intimidating, because he was putting all this pressure on me to learn theory. All the other students at the school had private lessons and private teachers from an early age. They knew theory and I didn’t even know where C was on the piano. I didn’t have a teacher; it was all natural to me.
I was a bit hopeless. I thought that I needed to have all those things to be on the same level with my peers and I was afraid that if I didn’t have it, I was going to be kicked out of the school. I was scared that I wasn’t going to make it, I wasn’t going to be able to achieve my goals and dreams.
Even before art school, I was always made fun of, because my clothes were different. We didn’t have clothes from brand stores, we would shop from consignment stores, everything was used. I wasn’t really focused on how I looked, because I had music.
Everybody in my family is musical. My mom sings at the choir, my dad plays drums and organ, my grandmother played organ, my grandfather played guitar, all of my aunties sang, it was like second nature for me. When we had Thanksgiving and Christmas, we were all coming together around the piano, singing. It was something that we did.
This teacher helped me get my piano chops together, he taught me about theory and harmonisation, and I started winning awards. I won the Downbeat Student Music Award for students, and I really blossomed from there, I fell in love with the art form.
In 2008 I got a scholarship to go to the New School to study jazz and contemporary music, and everybody in my family said no, because our little community was all that we knew.
We didn’t travel beyond the South. For purposes of Black History, we went to Montgomery, and Birmingham, Alabama, where Dr. King was jailed, but we didn’t travel anywhere else, we didn’t travel the world.
I was discouraged to go to New York, but I said I have to go, if I want to pursue my career in music. They hated it, they said “we are already don’t have enough money to take care of you, but now, if you go there and get sick, nobody is coming to look after you; when you graduate, nobody’s coming, we can’t afford it. What are you going to do by yourself there?”
I was 17 and I had to learn to make it on my own. Things were very difficult, but it helped me to define who I am and to find my voice in the music. Back home, I just had a talent, I could sing, and I had a great personality. Everybody knew me, everybody was hiring me for gigs, as soon as I was a sophomore in junior high school, because it was a small community; but in New York, there’s a plethora of singers, you must have more than talent. You got to have chops, you got to have theory knowledge, you got to be able to read and write music, you got to look the part and dress the part, you have to be the whole entire package.
Showing up to the jam session and calling a tune and standing in front of people — at first everyone was laughing, because I didn’t know that I had to tell them what tempo and what key; I didn’t know what a key was. I just would just go up and say “I want to play Summertime,” and they just laughed. I had to learn so many things, but after the first year, everybody knew me.
I made sure I learnt their language — bebop, and improv and harmony — so that I can communicate with them. As soon as I learnt it all, I did it my own way, and this is what got me recognition.
Whatever I desire, as long as it’s in the will of the Most High, the Creator, that’s what I’m going to do. When it comes to improvisation, there are ways you can play in the changes and ways you can play out of the changes. At home, I’m practising the changes, when I’m on stage, I’m no longer practicing, I allow myself to be in the moment, whatever it is. When you get to the place, you submit. It’s a very sacred place for me.
There’s no difference between Jazzmeia Horn on stage and at home. It doesn’t matter if I’m on stage or off stage, it’s the same thing. It’s not a persona. When I first came to New York, I had a huge afro and at the time many black women would not wear their hair naturally. When I signed with Concord records, they said that I looked like esperanza spalding and wanted me to look a bit different for marketing purposes. I was offended, I didn’t like it, but I started to study with different women in New York, I would go to different places, mosques and religious places, to see how women dressed. Then I did some more research into my own history — who I am, where I come from, and I saw a lot of women with their heads covered and I was asking about the meaning of all this, the symbols, the fabrics, the gowns, and the necklaces, why do they wear these things?
I like adorning my head. The thing about having an afro is that it picks up what’s around you, it’s like antennae. My hair picks up energy and signals. I’m keeping it covered when I’m around other people, so I’m not taking anything from anyone, I’m only giving.
I prefer to sing my own songs but when I first came out, I wanted people to know that I love the tradition of the standards jazz music. I don’t want it to sound like something you’ve already heard. I wanted the arrangements to sound modern and ancient at the same time. For my first record, A Social Call, I decided to do covers, because I couldn’t get out of that contract, and I didn’t want Concord to own my songs in perpetuity.
For my second record I added a few of my original compositions and I started going further and further away from the standards. I still love standards, when the audience requests a song, I will sing it, because I love engaging with the audience. But I don’t want to record standards. My albums will consist of my own music, my own stories.
For example, my song ‘When I say’ is about my children, not about me. It’s for their mouth, not for my mouth. “Stop on a dime, do what I say” — that’s a toddler talking, so bossy! “It must be my way or the highway” — that’s how kids are. You make your plate and you make a plate for them, they don’t want their plate, they want your plate. That’s a story.
Another example is ‘Free your mind’ – I want everyone to stop thinking about things the way others tell them to think. Advertising says “eat this soup, wear this dress, buy this furniture.” What do you want to buy? Think about your own things that you desire.
These are my stories, all my original compositions are really my thoughts. If it’s relatable, it’s because everyone is also just a person.
I’m always going to be me. I’m always going to be Jazzmeia. No matter what.”