A first glimpse into emotional ecology among jazz musicians in Europe
When I met Elio in a smoky club in Brussels, he was holding his saxophone like a question mark. He had just finished playing a set that made the room vibrate — not just sonically, but emotionally. His solos had something unspeakable in them, like a confession that never quite lands in words.
“You sounded incredible,” I said, genuinely moved.
He smiled, then shrugged. “Thanks. I didn’t sleep. Haven’t eaten either. I almost didn’t come.”
He said it like a joke. But there was no punchline.
Elio is not an exception. He’s a portrait.
Of the jazz musician who improvises on stage but feels lost off it.
Of someone who performs emotion for a living, but has nowhere to put his own.
This encounter came back to me months later as I launched an exploratory survey titled “Minimal: Emotional Ecology in Jazz”, aimed at mapping the emotional terrain of jazz musicians across Europe. The first results are in — and they echo Elio’s silence more than his sound.
A little story
I attended jazzahead! this year with a plan in mind — to listen. Not just to the music, but to the people behind it. I used the chance to speak in person with many musicians, handing them a survey but, more importantly, holding space for stories that rarely make it into programs or press kits.
I carried a small notebook and a quiet question: how are you, really? and, how can I help?
To my surprise, many answered with a pause (some with silent tears).
What the data reveals
Out of the initial responses, a few patterns are impossible to ignore:
The most common challenges?
Economic instability and lack of live performance opportunities.
Emotional wellbeing is impacted primarily by uncertainty, pressure to innovate, and career precarity.
Alarmingly, most respondents reported not using any emotional self-care strategies. But what struck me more than the data were the conversations behind it.
“I’ve honestly never thought about it,” one bassist admitted, pausing mid-sentence as if surprised by his own words.
Another added, “Now that you mention it… I do know people who’ve gone through depression. But we never talk about it.”
Again and again, I heard similar responses — a kind of silent agreement, almost shameful in its familiarity.
And then, something shifted. They’d look at me, eyes softening, and say:
“It’s good that someone’s asking these questions. Maybe we do need to talk about it after all.”
They also affirmed that their emotions deeply affect their performance on stage — either enhancing or hindering it.
In short: the emotional body is the instrument. But no one teaches you how to tune it.
A blind spot in performance psychology
In performance psychology, we know that creative output is shaped not only by skill but by mental and emotional states.
So why do so few musicians seem to recognize — or even name — their emotional health?
Perhaps because the industry doesn’t.
Perhaps because vulnerability is seen as unprofessional.
Or perhaps because, as one musician wrote anonymously:
“When you start admitting how fragile you are, people stop calling you to play.”
The road ahead: naming the invisible
The purpose of this survey was never to diagnose, but to listen.
What emerged is not just a list of stressors, but (perhaps) a collective blind spot: is mental health is still invisible in the jazz world?
What if we changed that?
What if we stopped asking musicians only how they sound — and started asking how they are?
This research is just beginning. But one thing is clear:
Before offering tools or frameworks, we must build a shared language.
To say “I’m tired” without shame. To say “I need help” without fearing obsolescence.
Maybe that’s what emotional ecology truly means:
Caring for the terrain we play from, not just what we play.
Hope to keep growing, I´d love to hear your feedback or ideas on it.
Lucia