Tim Garland on MEZZO

Celebrated as an iconic figure amongst modern saxophonists, Tim Garland is a musician known for his exceptional versatility across jazz and beyond. Equally at home in intimate acoustic chamber settings, expansive orchestral works, and the classic jazz trio format, Garland has built a career defined by a stylistic blend of genre influences, authenticity, and emotional depth.

A longtime collaborator of Chick Corea, he has contributed to Grammy-winning projects and worked extensively across both the classical and jazz worlds. His latest project, MEZZO, brings him together with the acclaimed American pianist Geoffrey Keezer, creating an intimate and richly textured dialogue between piano and the comparatively rare mezzo-soprano saxophone. It was a pleasure to speak with Tim about his journey of discovery with this fascinating instrument, the collaborative spirit at the heart of the album, and his thoughtful decision to be selective about the streaming platforms on which MEZZO will be available…

The mezzo-soprano saxophone is extraordinarily rare. What was your first encounter with the instrument, and what made you so keen to make an album surrounding it?

I went to Copenhagen to work with the Danish Radio Big Band, and the two saxophonists that were sitting either side of me said that there was someone they really thought I should meet. So I went to Peter Jessen’s workshop, which is where his own mezzo-soprano saxophone is proudly displayed; the very instrument that he built twenty years ago, and still plays to this day. 

It’s amazing that it has taken me quite so long to really understand what it is, because I know Joe Lovano pretty well, and he has the second of these mezzo-sporanos. It never occurred to me to kind of ask him about it, which was strange considering I’m really interested in hybrids – and this is a hybrid of a hybrid! Peter has made twenty of the instruments, and mine is number nineteen; you have to order them especially. It takes about a year, and it’s in G, so it’s exactly a cross between a soprano and an alto. The sound is similar to a soprano, but it’s a little darker and more cor-anglais-like, and for the music I play, I was delighted to add this to the saxophone family.

Those guys were absolutely right that I had to meet Peter, because I absolutely fell in love with the whole idea – so much so that I decided to call the album MEZZO. We often use the word ‘mezzo’ to describe the in-between, and in a way, that’s exactly where the music falls. It is quite hard to play; for the last six weeks, I’ve done nothing but practise it.

How different was it to playing tenor?

Well, I alternate between regular soprano and tenor all the time, as many of us do, and I’ve gotten used to the swap over the past twenty-five to thirty years. So once I’d sorted the mouthpiece (which is like the ordinary soprano), I felt an immediate familiarity. I think the extremes of register, and being able to whiz around on it at great speed – that’s one degree harder. 

Interestingly, MEZZO is the first album I’ve not included the tenor on, across my whole career. And there was a very deliberate reason for that, because there’s just two tracks that use a regular soprano as well, so that you get to hear the contrast between the two, subtle though it is. But it does affect the depth with which you can really approach the instrument if you just keep swapping. You can be fluent, but there’s something special about really digging deep, just down one rabbit hole of a sound. That’s what I hope I’ve started to do on MEZZO, anyway.

You’ve been musical collaborators with Geoffrey Keezer for over 25 years. How did this process feel knowing that the relationship was already in such a strong place? 

I met Geoffrey around 1999/2000. He was extraordinary then, and he’s extraordinary now. When I started to go to New York more often, that’s when I met several people who’ve become lifelong friends. For me, the best type of jazz is conversational. It feels as if you’re dialoguing, not just playing over each other – even if it’s very proficient, flashy and swinging. It never feels complete to me, unless you have what Geoff has: a lightning-quick response to whatever happens to be happening around what you’re playing. In many ways, he can be a real sports car, but he has this harmonic sophistication which is just gorgeous.

When I knew I had the instrument, I knew I wanted to feature it, but I spent time reflecting on the best way to do that. Lighthouse, for example, my trio, has been running for about twenty-one years now. I started to write for that, but then I felt that this deserved something new and different. And there’s no one better than Geoffrey Keezer when it comes to delivering the power and drive of a full band. So I went in with confidence, because he’s so precise and has such an innate sense of rhythmic energy, I just knew I’d have everything I needed. Also, both of us love to get out on the road, so the idea of working live really resonated with me – I want to get out and play to people. 

We only had one session where we created the vast majority of the whole album; it was kind of old school in that sense. Much like the 50s and 60s where they just went in fresh, we did it, had the minimum amount of editing and some nice mixing, and that was it. 

It definitely captures the element of authenticity in that way…

Yes, it's a sense of performance I think, that people value. If you’re going for slightly more complex music, the kind of sound you want to get is if you've just been on tour for two weeks and you’ve really gotten the music to settle in.

I remember thinking that when I was touring at the heaviest period with Chick Corea, where it just felt so much like a supergroup because no one needed to read the music anymore. We were able to kind of dig deep into those corners. I mean, Chick’s music is so multi-dimensional in the first place, and it struck me that quite a few bands could reach that peak of confidence if they had the chance to work that much, so I felt so blessed to have that opportunity.

MEZZO includes the first-ever recording of Chick Corea’s ‘La Fiesta’ on mezzo-soprano saxophone. Given your long collaboration, what did it mean to revisit that piece through this new lens?

It was very joyful because quite a few of Chick's pieces have such a playful innocence about them, and it reminds me of what he was like. The seventeen or so years that I was working on and off with him, there was a real consistency in that playfulness and dedication to the music. So pieces like ‘La Fiesta’ can almost go through phases of being unfashionably innocent in terms of their composition – though as a player he was anything but naive. But that sense of innocence… it seems to wellspring from a place of joy.

I really appreciate that when I hear that in music of all types, but especially in our current culture right now. It’s more refreshing than ever to play something so sophisticated that you can still do so many things with, but at its heart is just like a kid’s playground. I just find that wonderful. 

Several of the new compositions were shaped specifically around the mezzo’s sound. Did the instrument lead the compositional ideas, or did the pieces evolve alongside it?

Well, I realised as I explored the instrument that its unique properties lie in its lower register, because it reaches lower than a regular soprano can go. So I began to incorporate into my writing some moments that deliberately hit those notes – which can be quite a challenge! It’s like driving a different vehicle when you’re not quite sure of the new dimensions. 

You reflect more on how much diaphragm you'll need for each note, or how to capture a lovely, quiet and sweet note without making it too loud by mistake. But I wanted to write music that would challenge me to play the instrument better by attacking all those parts, and simultaneously make it sound different to the other instruments. 

With ‘A Prayer At Winter’ I’d really found that place with the instrument, because I took a piece I had previously and had it lowered to make it more solemn. There was another piece, ‘Out Of Towner’, where I went in with the agenda of using the entire range of the instrument. I’ve also always been a lover of Ralph Towner’s music, and I realised that this piece wouldn’t sound anything like it did had it not been for my years and years of appreciating Towner and his music – so that’s why I renamed it ‘Out of Towner’. It’s made all the more moving, of course, by the fact that he’s recently left us.

‘To The One Who Flies’ I wrote from the instrument. Quite often, I write from the piano, but if I write from the instrument, slightly different things come out. So that one was actually dedicated to a dream I’d had about flying, but also to Geoffrey, as he’s the one who is literally flying around with such an international career. So it also acts as a dedication to him. 

What I love about all of these pieces is what my colleagues bring to them. It’s the same when I work with Lighthouse, with Gwilym Simcock and Asaf Sirkis, and of course with Jason Rebello. These musicians have such a strong, original stamp, that part of the skill of the jazz composer is to leave the space. That’s where the magic happens, so these things are always collaborative. 

You place all these new originals alongside other composers. What connects them in the context of MEZZO?

With the Satie, so much of that is about the sound. I did another version, in a church in Glastonbury, and it’s just as evident there that the sound of the instrument has such a breathiness which gives it the simplicity and mysticism that’s inherent in Gnossienne No.1. I’ve never been 100% out of the New York jazz tradition – I’ve come through years of classical study and loving classical music, so it was totally within my realm of comfort to be playing that one. 

We then went in the other direction, playing the standard ‘Every Time We Say Goodbye’, and again, there’s a prayer-like quality about that which links those two pieces together. Both of them feel liturgical almost, because of the repeated refrains and notes. Playing them in a completely different key brings a freshness to it too; I’m more likely to play something that surprises myself. When I first got the instrument, I would play a note, and of course, a different pitch would come out that was unexpected. But actually, you turn that in your favour and you can start to embrace that element of surprise. As a jazz musician, who wants to hear something that’s 100% predictable?

Even those comforting favourites we go back to like Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday – we come back to it with such historical ears that we forget that at the time there really were a lot of surprises in there, right down to the pianist, who would be throwing in some different chords for some twists and turns. That’s the tradition of jazz that I love to uphold. 

Was there any sense of expectation in trying to showcase such an unusual instrumental voice in the best way, especially given that there will likely be many new listeners being exposed to this sound for the first time?

It’s true. Even though Lovano has played one for years and years, I don't think he's kind of featured it in this way. Of course, there are eighteen others out there aside from ours, but maybe some of those are featured more on the classical side? So there’s not much repertoire for the instrument out there at the moment, and I did feel like I wanted to make a real statement. The instrument is still quite new to me, so I’m looking forward to getting even more comfortable with it over time.

Ultimately, I felt I was in such safe hands: not only was Geoffrey a joy to work with, but the studio itself was wonderful. There are always improvements you can make to the sound of the instrument, and I wouldn’t like to say that this album represents it as a definitive showcase. I’m hoping others will do things with it as well, because after all, with jazz, the instrument is a vehicle for your ideas, so it should only really be of secondary importance to the listener which instrument it happens to be. I’m of the persuasion that the primary focus should be whether the music makes you feel, and what it communicates.

So does MEZZO feel like a one-off exploration, or perhaps the beginning of a deeper chapter with this instrument?

Without doubt, there's a deeper exploration to undertake, and I shall definitely be using it more and more with the Lighthouse Trio. I've done quite a lot with orchestras, especially string orchestras over the last twenty years, and I would love to do something along those lines. There's something about the soprano and the mezzo-soprano in particular that gives you a lot of scope. Now, in a period of cross-fertilisation, we've reached such maturity. There are classical composers who really do understand a lot more about jazz these days, and vice versa. There are a lot of jazz musicians that have a deep appreciation for the orchestra and classical music.

Finally, anything you’d like listeners to know before they hear the album?

Well, it’s kind of fanciful, but sometimes I’ve felt in the past that instruments sort of have a spirit animal associated with them. Reflecting on the mezzo whilst out walking where there were wild horses, it suddenly struck me that the mezzo’s spirit animal was definitely a horse, and I was with my partner (who did the cover) and she agreed. There was something about it that made sense, so she started off the painting with some sporadic splashes to give the impression of waves coming up against the beach, as if there was something coming from the unconscious into the conscious world. And those initial splashes happened to form a horse galloping – it definitely felt like a sign that it was destined to be the album cover. It connects to the music through that balance of controlled skill, and serendipity – you can’t have one without the other. 

I do feel that our international ties are hugely important too, and that's another good reason to give this a listen. It's collaborative, it's transatlantic, and we need to see any way we can to keep the true ties going – to show that this music does not respect the boundaries and maps that we human beings have created.

Finally, I want to add that I was quite proud to have control over this project, and the decision not to put it on Spotify. With my back catalogue, I don’t always have the power to change things, and I don’t hold it against the labels who understandably have to think very carefully before opting out of platforms like that. But I was in the situation where I could, and I’m proud not to be sharing this album on there.

I know that no streaming platforms are going to be perfect, but with all of the press, and this danger of having such a billionaire brand, it doesn’t bring out the best in people – and we all know about the weapon system that’s being funded by the CEO. I hated all of that, so I’m very much hoping that more and more listeners will rally around companies like yours, and the more morally and holistically inclined. Music should be about joy, and it should be about the communion of our better selves, That’s what I learnt, amongst other things, from Chick Corea. And it’s what my favourite musicians all embody in different ways.