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Mike, earlier I asked you about your first album featuring two different bands In the decade since then there's been another six CD's. We've got two quintets, a trio, quartet, and even an octet and, again, featuring a variety of sidemen. I want to know what goes through your mind when you assemble a group. Seems like you're trying a lot of different stuff.

First I want to answer "what goes through your mind", because the answer is complex. I form bands from the pool of local players. For it to stick there has to be a certain amount of personal chemistry, and musical sympathy. I want musicians around that really listen and respond to what is being played. I find it very frustrating to play with players who don't — even great players. Then there's the issue of shared musical values. I want my tunes to swing hard, and in a certain way, so I've got to get players who love to do that and are interested in working together to know how to do it. There are many ways to swing, but the way I prefer is from a band perspective rather than individual. I also demand a lot of loyalty from bandmates. I give it, and I ask for it in return. So you see, there's intention to all of my decisions regarding band size and personnel. As for "trying a lot of different stuff", I'm thinking about the tunes I want to record, usually originals, and the band formation that will bring that off best. The way I hear my tunes often has to do with the musicians who have been performing them most recently. So usually it's my current band that gets recorded, but sometimes I add an extra player (or four) to help fill out some aspect of the sound I'm trying to get for my tunes. You know, between each album there have been dozens and dozens of performances that have gone on. For me, each performance is a real learning experience, and I try to improve my tunes by re-writing, arranging and re-arranging them, and even changing my band lineup to best suit what I'm looking for. By the time I decide to record a new album I'm usually in a different place musically from the last one. So that's why there's a lot of different stuff. For example, between my two trio albums "Change Is" (2000) and "Dialectic (2003) I played a year of Tuesdays at the Cellar with the band from the former album and then a year of Tuesdays at Stuart's in Bellingham with another trio. The way I wanted the trio music to sound had evolved as the bands changed. Then after a huge trio tour in 2003 promoting the new trio album, I started wanting to hear my tunes sound more dense harmonically, so George McFetridge joined us on the next album Fearless (2004). That's the short answer.

Hah! The short answer! Well . . . you know I had a tough time formulating that question because I was aware of the many dimensions involved . . . composing not just the music but the group to play it  . . . at what point you take it into the recording studio, etc., etc.

It's like trying to know why we have certain friends. Did we choose them? did they choose us? was it coincidental? etc.

Have you thought about recording live?

I have done lots of live recordings that haven't been released for one reason or another, most commonly the sound is not up to par. As a sideman I'm on a live recorded album of a band led by Winnipeg pianist Knut Haugsoen. It was done at a wonderful concert venue in Montreal called La Chapelle Historique in the early 90s. I'd like to do a live album with one of my current bands at some point, and the technology is making it easier and easier to pull off. But I think I tend to expect too much.

When I first started hearing your group on a regular basis you led a pianoless trio. I don't know if that was your preference or, given the economics of maintaining a jazz group these days, you had little choice. Later you added piano and the two players you've included in your quartet are George Mcfetridge and Bruno Hubert, both great musicians, and somewhat idiosyncratic, or eccentric even. I wonder about those choices. George was in the group for a while then was replaced by Bruno, but at last year's jazz fest you played a duo concert with George.

I've always loved playing trio with bass and drums. Sonny Rollins' "Live At The Village Vanguard" trio album was a major inspiration. The years with Dave Robbins and Darren Radtke were very special ones. We all benefited from being in that band. We enjoyed recording and touring together, and got along well personally. I didn't impose my ideas too much; it was a democratic, open, collaborative musical situation. I even started branching out by playing piano on some tunes (when there was a piano). And there were certain economic advantages working in a trio. It was generally easier touring and finding work locally that paid well enough for three musicians, rather than four.

Eventually I wanted the music to take a slightly different direction, and though I tried, it didn't feel right under that assortment of players. So the band personnel evolved to suit the band music I was striving to create. Drummer Julian MacDonough and a stream of great local bassists (including Paul Rushka, Steve Holy, Jodi Proznick, Darren Radtke, Larry Holloway, Keith Judelman, Sean Cronin and, currently, Adam Thomas) were "the trio" since 2001. In 2004 I began composing tunes in preparation for the album "Fearless". Because these new tunes were for quartet, I needed a pianist that would compliment the aesthetics established by the trio. George seemed to know just how to fit in musically, and I knew him well enough to know that joining my group wouldn't be just another gig to him. We had already worked together extensively, touring and recording with the Bruce Nielsen Band. He was serious about learning the music we were doing. He used to arrive early and prepared for rehearsals, and was always ready to offer his unique perspectives. He was serious, but light-hearted, with strong musical ideas that he didn't impose but rather offered when welcomed to do so. The perfect bandmate in so many ways. I had a great deal of difficulty when the time came for George to leave the band; I knew I was giving up attributes that I may never again find in a pianist bandmate. It was a huge disappointment to both of us, but we've recently teamed back up to record a duo album called "Threads" which is just released. Playing the duo concert at the 2006 festival was a highlight of our work together. It felt as though we transcended the challenge of the written work and managed to connect with the audience in a very natural way. We're playing together again at this year's festival and releasing the disc at our show.

After George left the quartet in 2005, I started to think about the kind of pianist we needed to keep evolving. Bruno Hubert's playing had always fascinated me. There are so many rumours and stories swirling around about him, many of them true, some exaggerations, and some plain wrong. The first time I ever heard Bruno play was a solo gig at the long gone Blue Note when it was near the corner of Broadway and Cambie. He sounded so swinging and fresh. I introduced myself during a set break. We really never played much throughout the years other than a few gigs I did as a sideman in Brad Turner's band in which he has been a mainstay. Regardless, I'd always thought that at some point we'd end up playing a lot together either in my band or in someone else's. I love the way everything he plays brims with personality, and he seems so connected to what he and others are doing on the bandstand. So when I finally asked him to be in my band, there was this sense for both of us that it was inevitable. Bruno actually said that he thought he was "finally ready" to play with me. That floored me. But I guess he had his own sense of what I was doing with my previous groups and just wasn't quite sure how he'd fit in until recently.

I feel that the music we were making in that quartet was been some of the most personal, melodic and swinging music I've ever been a part of, and Bruno's a big part of that. He was a joy to have on the road on my last Western Canadian tour. He kept things light and humourous and took charge of setting up the rhythm section before each show, so that I could concentrate on doing interviews, preparing set lists, and getting myself ready finding reeds and warming up my sax. He was a huge help, and really seemed to take full advantage of the opportunity the tour afforded: doing a ton of playing in a relatively short span, meanwhile traveling by van, seeing the country and meeting loads of new people. One rumour was that Bruno would not be easy to tour with. I couldn't imagine a better guy to go out on the road with.

I don't know anyone, at least not in this country, that tours as much as you do. Your 2003 Trio tour - I think you set some kind of record for a Canadian jazz band - 25 dates in 17 cities, wasn't it? Do you enjoy touring? What do you get out of it? Considering the expense of touring, it can’t be the money.

In the past several years I have toured with my trio or quartet on many occasions and fairly widely throughout Canada and the Pacific Northwest. What I think distinguishes my touring has been the number of off-the-beaten-path places we've performed. There have been a couple of monster driving tours, a 15,000 kilometer one through seventeen cities, and a 12,000 kilometer one to 15 cities. There are several Canadian jazz musicians who have toured more than me, but as I said, what we have done that is somewhat unique is to go to some pretty remote towns.

Yes, I love touring. I feel that everything is as it should be when we're out on the road traveling from gig to gig. There are so many benefits to touring. There's the love of playing regularly even if just for a few weeks. There's the unique band-building quality that touring generates, and of course, it's great to be heard by fresh audiences. New audiences give you the feedback you need to truly evaluate what it is you're doing. In terms of the money, it's not as bad as one would think. The performance fees are generally below what I'd like to be getting for my band, but are where they need to be to be sustainable, in terms of the audience sizes in many of the cities we're playing.

For the tours that involve significant distances traveled, I thank my lucky stars that the Canada Council's Touring Program, more often than not, supports my endeavors. None of the national tours I've done with a band would have been possible without travel and promotional support provided by the CC. Usually, I'm promoting a new disc on tour, so off-the-stage CD sales help provide a little more green. In general "it isn't the money" when you consider why we do music. But touring leads to making more money in the future through increased public awareness, and it's certainly better than sitting at home.

Have you thought about touring the U.S.?

Definitely. One of the most significant advancements I could make for my career is to begin touring more widely, especially in the US. The reason? It's sad but generally true that artists in Canada have to achieve success in the U.S. to know any success at home.

Have you tried? What do you think it would take to book some U.S. dates, as opposed to the Canadian cities?

No I haven't really tried to book U.S. dates. I guess it would take some name recognition for me to get a presenter interested. Often having local airplay is a concern, and getting airplay in U.S. cities usually requires that an album is distributed in that region, which as it turns out is nearly impossible to secure without having airplay already. Duh! Up here in Canada I'm known somewhat so there generally isn't too much problem making the initial connection with a concert presenter or club owner. And airplay isn't a problem because radio stations are encouraged to play Canadian musicians' albums thanks to Canadian content requirements. Then there's the CBC which is great for playing Canadian jazz. What I need is a resourceful agent who believes in what I do, and is willing to hustle up performing opportunities in U.S. cities. The will is there on my part.

You've had ongoing musical relationships with clubs and musicians in Washington state, most notably I guess with Chuck Israels. What can you tell me about that?

The main place I've played in Seattle, Tula's Jazz Club, is a nice room with a good, regular audience that appreciates the sort of music I like to play — which I consider to be high-energy, swinging original music that has its roots in the tradition of John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins. That sort of stuff goes over well in Seattle at Tula's. As far as musicians go, Chuck Israels was a big part of my musical life for several years but is less so now. He helped get me in at Western Washington University in 1996 when I really needed some teaching work. We worked together in his groups and my groups for several years. I learned a lot being around Chuck, some very helpful things about playing the kind of music I love. The most significant musical relationship developed through my time spent in Bellingham is the one with Julian MacDonough. Though he is ten years younger than I, he has an inspiring wisdom about being a musician. It has been a pleasure to witness his development into a total badass drummer. Jay Thomas is another cat with whom I've worked a fair amount and whose playing inspires me greatly.

I was surprised to run into you at an Oliver Lake concert a few years ago. It shouldn't be all that surprising I suppose but I have to say that there does appear to be a division between the straight-ahead (so-called) and the "out" (so-called) players here. With the exception of some outstanding improvisers that fit comfortably in both areas (Brad Turner, Bill Clark, and Saul Berson are a few examples that come to mind.) one rarely sees one side checking out the other. (I really hate these divisions but am stating them as such just to get at my question without writing an entire essay here. How did you enjoy that concert? What's your take on these forms of music as played by, say, Lake, Braxton, Roscoe Mitchell, or locals guys like Bruce Freedman, Coat Cooke, Francois Houle, et al? Have you ever explored these forms yourself?

Tough question. I remember enjoying the concert, both the work of Oliver and that of the NOW Orchestra. Listening to Oliver Lake was one of my earliest experiences in jazz; "Life Dance Of Is" was my first jazz recording. My dad bought the album for me, thinking it would be more traditional sounding than it is. I was thirteen years old and hadn't really listened to any jazz before. I didn't really ever take to that way of playing the saxophone or expressing myself through music but have always been intrigued by those who do. No doubt I fit into the category of "in" players, buy occasionally I like to see what's going on outside my scene, and that concert was one of those times.

What I liked about it was the level of intensity and commitment with which everyone seemed to play their parts. Sometimes more "inside" jazz lacks that sense of necessity; seeming more hesitant. Sometimes playing jazz that regards tradition highly can lead to a more self-conscious, comparative way of playing which I find less compelling. I'm going to avoid directly answering the question "what is my take on these forms..." because any way I try to respond is inadequate. Perhaps I'm not a good enough writer to describe my feelings. One thing I know is that there are no "types" of music that I either like or dislike, or am able to discuss coherently. I think music cannot really be discussed respectfully on such a broad level. Individual people's music, at a particular concert or on a particular album, is limited enough so as not to diminish the conversation too much with broad strokes. I'd talk more about the Oliver Lake show but to be honest I don't remember it that well. So much music has come and gone since that night. One thing I find always rewarding, is going to a show without expectations, which was the case that night.

It seems like you're as uncomfortable with labels like "in","out", "mainstream", "avant garde", etc., as I am.

Yes, labels like those, when applied to music, do a disservice. I use them from time to time to get a point across in conversation but it usually leaves me with a dirty feeling.

I hear ya. But it's unavoidable sometimes. Somebody who's never heard you asks, "what kind of jazz do you play"? What do you say?

Usually I try to describe what we do by saying where the influences come from. I ask if the person asking me knows any John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins, Wayne Shorter or Joe Henderson music. If they know that work, I might say "some of our music sounds a little like Trane's quartet...bla, bla bla". Something like that. I never say we play mainstream jazz. I don't even know what that means. Some people just think "boring" when they hear the word "mainstream". Jazz is so far out of the mainstream anyway. I never say we play bebop, and am surprised when our music is described as bebop by knowledgeable organizations such as Coastal Jazz and Blues Society. Bebop is a very specific sound that doesn't have any of the influences that are most important to what we do. Bop doesn't describe it, neither does Cool or Swing or anything else for that matter. I have no problem saying that our music swings and is influenced by the work of John Coltrane, Monk, Miles, Sonny Rollins, etc. but that is about all I can say.

Tough one, eh?

Yes, questions about whatever one is most passionate about require a lot of clarity and care in trying to answer adequately.

Which, generally speaking, is more satisfying: playing in the studio or before an audience?

Generally, playing before an audience is more satisfying for me. I'm not really perfection oriented in terms of the ideal musical sounds I want to produce, but the recording studio tends to lead me in that direction. The ultimate achievement for my music is for it to ascend to a level in performance where it can soar without being self-conscious. Audiences play a crucial role in pushing a performance to that level. Listen to Paul Gonsalves' famous solo on "Diminuendo & Crescendo In Blue" with Duke Ellington's band "Live At Newport". The audience and his bandmates are fueling that solo with their encouragement, driving Paul higher and higher into the groove. That's what I love about jazz. Recording in the studio is a completely different process, it's more about the "sounds" getting captured. It makes a musician much more aware of every detail of the music they are playing. It focuses the musician in a way that can lead to places you wouldn't go in concert; often more introspective and minimal.

It's interesting to be asked that question after having just completed my ninth album as a leader (Vancouver). This one feels as though, finally, I've managed to partially document the process that happens when I get spurred on in a live performing situation. So I guess it's not impossible — just much more challenging.

Art Taylor put out a book of interviews with fellow musicians and he asked several of them, "Do you play for yourself, the audience, or your bandmates?" Got a lot of very different and interesting responses. I'm asking you the same question.

Cool. I remember talking to a musician friend of mine (bassist Alec Walkington) back in Montreal about that. At the time, twenty years ago, I felt that I was playing for myself and other musicians, the people who understood what I was going for. My friend said that playing for musicians was a dead end, that musicians are basically incapable of listening on a pure experiential level, and that it was more gratifying to play for non-musicians. Well, now I know for sure that I play for all three. Even more, actually. I play for myself, bandmates, the audience, but also for people who aren't even there. Sometimes I'm playing also with past teachers in mind, fellow musicians who I no longer work with, even jazz lovers who might have once mentioned that they loved a certain moment in a certain recording. Sometimes I'm playing for a person who claims to dislike a certain tune or jazz altogether. It sounds a little crazy I guess, but there can be lots of people present in the mind of a musician, influencing how they play, without having to be there in the flesh, or even having met the musician personally.

When you're playing solo piano at a place like O'Doul's where, let's face it, the bar can be filled with people in for a meal or a few drinks and have no idea there's live music, let alone jazz, going on - does it affect what or how you play when someone shows up who's actually there to listen? Put another way, when a jazz musician plays in the forest and there's no one there to hear him, does he make a sound?

Good question. Personally I really like it when people aren't paying direct attention to me doing solo piano, it makes me uncomfortable to be in a patron/lounge pianist relationship with listeners. Requests for schlock can really start to fly when patrons become aware that they are being played for. My philosophy is to play for myself and try to connect the music with listeners in a subtle, informal way. I think of my solo playing best consumed as background music, like I'm in a fish bowl in a Chinese restaurant (but not on the menu). Ideally it's like a head massage with music, seeping into the audience's unconsciousness (even unwittingly) leaving them with a peaceful, relaxed feeling, and at least occasionally causing people to tap their toes with the beat. Lately, I've been playing whole nights of original tunes. Maybe it works because while my tunes are reminiscent of standards, playing them doesn't put out the welcome mat to requests for tired jazz/lounge piano repertoire.

As far as playing for people who show up to really listen to what I'm doing, I try to ignore those people. Just kidding. It is a real challenge for me to actively play for seasoned listeners, because what I do when I play solo piano has been developed quite apart from the tradition of most jazz pianists. For that reason, if I concentrate on trying to please listeners with certain expectations, I'm sure to play less well. So I guess I'm not kidding when I say I try to ignore those people. It's for their own good - it sounds much better when I do.

What do you think about while you're improvising?

Mainly about being in a deep rhythmic flow with the other players on the stand. If we're really together, I feel like I can play anything. I don't have to think about how to improvise anymore. But there are "steps" to take to help what comes out of the band and out of my horn that are essential.

What steps?

The first step is to listen to what's happening on stage and get in the groove and stay there. I know that sounds like a given but it's not uncommon to play with people who aren't really tuned in. That means clearing your mind of expectations, as best you can. Another is playing in a way that leaves space for the players to have an impact on the music. I try to be in a certain rhythmic place that supports the groove and doesn't force anyone to compensate for me in order to make the music flow. Those are the main things, though nothing is sure-fire in terms of ensuring that everyone involved is on the same page.

Tell me about your performances of Coltrane's "A Love Supreme". Why did you undertake this? It must be a hell of a challenge — not just the music but presenting a work that is so deeply associated with a specific performance in people's minds.

It was Julian MacDonough's idea to perform the suite and at first I had reservations. I wondered if there was any possibility of surmounting the expectations. After rehearsing the music a couple of times before our first performance, it started to feel as though there was room to contribute something personal without losing the overall feel of the work. By the second and third performances, it really began to feel quite natural, and the people who came to listen gave us very encouraging feedback about how it felt for them to hear that music performed by a band that isn't the Coltrane quartet. What I'm happiest about personally, is that I can use Coltrane as inspiration while playing the suite, but not end up sounding like that's what I'm doing. In the end, the reason why it works is that we play music from the same perspective as Trane's band would; trying to generate a beautiful intensity through swinging group music. And most of all, we love that band's music and wouldn't dream of trying to exploit it.

I don't think I've asked you about the Jazz Ascendants, your nonet. That kind of band is pretty ambitious for a place where even a quartet can have a hard time getting gigs. I guess without sponsorship or a festival gig you pretty much have to rely on the goodwill of the band to do anything.

Hard time getting gigs — no kidding! Well it has been quite a while since the Ascendants have played anywhere. Probably the last time we performed was early 2005. We did a series of monthly shows at the Cellar beginning in 2004. As you might imagine it didn't pay that well as we were playing for the door and it was on an off-night during the week, a Thursday I believe. It started out as a nine-piece band and eventually got whittled down to a sextet for economic and personnel reasons — it's pretty hard to get a commitment from players to be available every month if the money isn't there. The use of substitute players means that it's difficult to grow the music from performance to performance.

Yes, it's a big challenge, but the musical rewards are worth the trouble anyway. I love having the occasion to arrange and perform my own compositions in multi-horn settings that include great soloists such as Brad Turner and Cam Ryga. I never felt good about handing out cheques for $31 at the end of a musically inspiring gig with the Ascendants.

I'm in the process of starting a non-profit society in order to be eligible for some annual funding and municipal grants for larger projects such as the Jazz Ascendants and others. Maybe with some financial support there's a chance of creating more consistent performing opportunities and a stronger identity in Vancouver and beyond.

That might not be a bad idea but it could wind up being a more work than you'd want. Talk to Coat Cooke. The NOW Orchestra has lasted 30 years, toured internationally, etc., but has many projects going in order to get the funding it gets. It's almost a full-time job for Coat. They started out more as a co-op, which might make more sense. Do you think it would be feasible to organize nine or so musicians willing to commit to playing your music and sharing the workload?

I do think it would be possible, especially considering that there are so many good young players up and coming in this city. If it was me, I'd love to have an opportunity to belong to and work in a collective led by an experienced musician. That's pure gold for a developing player. I see it being a group of 9 or 10 musicians, performing typically in various collections and numbers, and occasionally all together. Whereas the last few gigs with the Ascendants in the sextet formation have featured my originals exclusively, a collective certainly would encourage the performance of material from all its members.

Of course, much more thought is needed on this subject. There would need to be a cultural raison d'etre for it to work in the current music climate. Today everything is about mixing influences — drawing from different musical traditions to create sounds that are new and exciting. I don't know if I'll ever really be able to go with that aesthetic. I love swinging music so much; it's so hard to do well; and I can't imagine anything else moving me the way jazz can.

Mike, there's so much more to talk about, questions I'd like to ask, but we've got to stop somewhere. So I'm going to thank you for doing this - it has been fun and informative - and I'll close with one last question: Was there something you'd wished I'd asked but didn't?

Thank you, Brian. Having the opportunity to express myself freely on the subjects of your thoughtful, informed questions was a real honour and proved cathartic at times. You remember that awkward moment in the Charlie Parker/Dizzy Gillespie "Hot House" video clip where they've just been handed DownBeat awards and asked "do you 'boys' have anything you want to say?" At that point Bird says they will "say it through music". If it had been you asking in that situation, I believe they would have wanted to sit down with you and chat for hours.

In terms of a question I wished you had asked: I wish you had asked me if there's one person who helps make so much of what I do possible; and, if there's someone I'd like to thank above the rest for her support, without whom I feel I'd be less of a person and musician. But you already knew the answer to that one, you've met her.

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Visit Mike Allen's web site at http://mikeallenjazz.com