You might know Adam James as a country music singer. In fact, if you’re into country music, you certainly know Adam James. You might have even become aware of how he gradually infused his songwriting with more and more blues elements. But you might still be wondering why is a country-turned-blues singer being featured in a jazz website. First and foremost, because music is music, and there’s no such thing as music-genre-orthodoxy. Which brings us to the second reason: Adam James, whose career saw him travel from North Stradbroke Island, to Nashville to Europe to Canada and back home, is at his core a proud Quandamooka man with a vision: to champion First Nations songwriting, in that most theatrical, smooth and engaging singing format — jazz crooning. Which led to his new passion project, The Great First Nations Songbook.
[On a personal note, talking to him gave me the opportunity to ask something that has long been in my mind.]
I have been involved in the Australian Jazz community for more than a decade now, and I have come across very few First Nations musicians. Why is it? Do you have any explanation?
I’ve been thinking about this, and it’s a really good question because it opens up the discussion for First Nations people to get involved in jazz. There are interesting intersections between the history of jazz and the history of African Americans, particularly around the civil rights movement. First Nations people have had a similar experience through colonialism.
There’s a linkage there between First Nations people and the African American experience, especially in contexts where there were pastoral or agricultural companies, and missions, and people would become farm workers and domestics. That’s similar to the South, where African Americans worked in tobacco and cotton through indentured labour, experiencing hardship. Jazz emerged from the African American experience, and I think it resonates historically with First Nations experiences.
My community on North Stradbroke Island, is a matriarchal society. The older matriarchs were big fans of Ray Charles, Frank Sinatra, and Nat King Cole. My grandmother was a beautiful jazz cover singer. So older generations, born in the ’20s, the ’30s, and ’40s, were exposed to popular jazz, but this didn’t necessarily carry through the generations in the same way as country music. In my experience, older generations definitely listened to jazz. In my community, we had dance hall recitals where people practiced foxtrot, jive, and box step to old jazz records. I learned all of that as a kid. Yet, we’ve found more First Nations people gravitating toward country and hip hop — which comes out of jazz and blues, they’re all connected.
So what has your own journey in music been like? How did you decide this was your path, and how did it lead to what you’re presenting now?
I started playing the guitar as a teenager during the punk era in Australia. I admired Chris Cheney from The Living End, then I became obsessed with rockabilly styles, and later moved into blues guitar, which I fell in love with. A lot of my writing, rhythms, and playing come from that training.
In my early 20s, I moved to Sydney, working at an arts company, and was introduced to country music. Later on I learned about Venetta Fields, a former backup singer from Buffalo, New York, who had worked with John Farnham, Richard Clapton, and recorded with Elvis and Boz Scaggs.
My mum encouraged me to study with her. I went with open eyes and arms. The first six months were tough. She was demanding, but over two years of weekly lessons, I trained in jazz and blues vocals. Venetta would say: “what are you doing singing country music? You’re a blues and jazz singer!” I kept persevering, and after 104 lessons, she told me I’d just know when I was ready.
From there, I explored country music through competitions in Queensland and nationally in Tamworth. I was runner-up in Star Maker, released my EP Messages in Memory, and toured with country music singles. That launched my career, taking me internationally, achieving a number one in Canada, and returning to compete in Tamworth Country Music Awards.
In 2018, my wife and I were was travelling overseas and we found ourselves at the Barcelona terror attacks, and my wife was injured. After that, some things bubbled up to the surface. That really helped me reprioritise what I wanted to do with my life, and one of those things was to do to reconnect with the music I grew up with. That led to the album Russian Blue, produced in Nashville with jazz guitarist Stuie French and world-class musicians.
This shifted my style away from country, incorporating brass and jazz textures, reflecting the music I loved.
How did this lead to your current project?
I’ve always admired vocalists like Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra. I wanted to present music theatrically, like a showman, moving beyond just singer-songwriter work. I love that style of jazz, and there’s so much popular First Nations and country music. I wanted to bring them together. The idea was to reimagine popular songs into pendulum-swinging jazz styles and present The Great First Nations Songbook.
The creative process involved Michel Rose, Australia’s only pedal steel player, Jamie Clarke, a jazz pianist and guitarist, and others. We secured funding, picked songs, and spent two weeks discussing arrangements. The work involved threading each song through different jazz styles — Cuban, Latin, New Orleans, gypsy jazz, jazz standards — creating a unique presentation.
We even included pedal steel, which isn’t typical in jazz, but it adds a distinctive sonic difference. The original show had a seven-piece brass section, now whittled down to three with a core five-piece band.
What’s the story behind the show?
The main story is that First Nations music has a place in Australia. Australia’s first pop star, Jimmy Little, was a proud Yorta Yorta man from Victoria. We open the show with his song Royal Telephone, then move to songs by Coloured Stone, reimagined in gypsy jazz style.
It’s essentially a First Nations music history lesson, using jazz as the medium.
The aim is to showcase how First Nations music has been integral to the fabric of Australia. I encourage people to see the show, hear these stories, and recognize our shared humanity and experiences.
What are your aspirations for this project?
In the immediate term, we have shows in Brisbane, Darwin, and back in Brisbane next year. The goal is to expand nationally, to Victoria, Sydney, and Western Australia. We’re considering a record of The Great First Nations Songbook as a medium-term goal, maybe even within 12 to 18 months.
The collective experience of our nine musicians totals around 250 years of music, and as we refine the show, it keeps improving. Future plans could include a second volume of the songbook.
Eventually, we hope to bring original First Nations artists into the show to perform their own songs with the jazz orchestra. For example, we Play Dan Sultan’s ‘Old Fitzroy‘; when we play in Melbourne, Dan Sultan could sing his music with us, bringing authenticity and provenance to the performance.
Anything else you’d like to add?
We could keep going forever! But I think the essence is about showcasing First Nations music, connecting it to jazz, and celebrating its rich history. Music is storytelling, and I feel privileged to help bring these stories to life.
