March 2025 Featured Artist
Jane Bunnett
Juno Award-Winning Band Leader
Sets her All-Women Band on Fire with Unique Afro-Cuban Jazz Beat
Jane Bunnett
Photo Credit: Emma-Lee Photography |
Internationally acclaimed musician and five-time Juno Award winner Jane Bunnett is known for her creative integrity, improvisational daring, and courageous artistry. Her exploration of Afro-Cuban melodies expresses the universality of music, and her ability to embrace and showcase the rhythms and culture of Cuba has been groundbreaking. She has toured the world bringing her own special sound to numerous jazz festivals, displaying her versatility as a band leader, saxophone player, flutist, composer and pianist.
With Maqueque, Jane has created something new in the world of jazz. What started out as a project to record and mentor brilliant, Cuban female musicians, has become one of the top groups on the North American jazz scene. Jane was nominated for three Grammy Awards, and two documentaries have been made about her work: Spirits of Havana by the National Film Board and, more recently, Embracing Voices. As an educator, spokesperson, and social activist, Jane remains unafraid to explore uncharted territory in her quest for excellence. Jane Bunnett and Maqueque Jane Bunnett, soprano saxophone & flute Joanna Tendai Majoko, vocals MaryPaz Fernández, congas & vocals Dánae Olano, piano Tailin Marrero, acoustic & electric bass Yissy García, drums |
In January, Travel and Culture Editor, Sandra Bertrand, had the great pleasure of interviewing Jane by phone at her home in Toronto. She found her to be friendly, forthcoming, at times funny, and always passionate about the art of music.
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Good morning, Jane. Hope you’re keeping warm in Toronto. It’s 18 degrees here in Manhattan.
It’s eighteen below here! I’ve been trying to find mittens because there’s a big difference when your fingers are together. I’d think with you as a sax player and flutist, it’s important to keep your fingers in good shape. I have to be careful; I’m not twenty years old anymore! Jane, your background is quite fascinating. You’ve had all these years of touring and international acclaim, and you’ve managed to create something unique with Maqueque. (Loosely translated, maqueque means the energy of a young girl’s spirit.) How is this pronounced? Just think of it like “mah” and two letters like “k”. It’s an Afro-Cuban dialect. Going back to your first experience as a very young girl, how did this mission in music begin for you? Well, as a child — I’m the youngest of three — I was always very creative. Everybody in my family is quite creative. My father had to look after his family at the age of fifteen, and he began at a department store, like a Macy’s or Simpson’s in Canada. Eventually he became a fashion buyer, and he had a section for designer fashions. On Saturday afternoons on the very top floor, there was a very beautiful dining room, and he’d have a jazz trio playing. He was really ahead of his time for Toronto. |
Jane Bunnett and Maqueque:
L to R: Tailin Marrero Zamora, Yissy García, Joanna Tendai Majoko, MaryPaz Fernández, Jane Bunnett, Dánae Olano. Photo Credit: Lauren Deutsch. |
So, when you were very young you were listening to music right in the department store.
I was exposed. I was always drawing and painting. When my family bought our home, there was a piano that came along with it. In those days a piano was a sort of…what do you call it?
A cultural symbol? I remember these stories in school about the covered wagons going across the American plains with a piano.
I didn’t know that — you’re giving me some ideas, with the cutbacks in clubs and such. (Laughter)
What was your first instrument?
My first instrument was the clarinet. Apparently, I had a pretty good ear. They wanted me to play the violin, but I did not want to play the violin. I wanted in the band — there was something about a shiny instrument! The instruments got gobbled up pretty quickly, but I was persistent. So, the teacher loaned me his personal clarinet, a one-piece silver clarinet, and I loved it from the get-go.
I was exposed. I was always drawing and painting. When my family bought our home, there was a piano that came along with it. In those days a piano was a sort of…what do you call it?
A cultural symbol? I remember these stories in school about the covered wagons going across the American plains with a piano.
I didn’t know that — you’re giving me some ideas, with the cutbacks in clubs and such. (Laughter)
What was your first instrument?
My first instrument was the clarinet. Apparently, I had a pretty good ear. They wanted me to play the violin, but I did not want to play the violin. I wanted in the band — there was something about a shiny instrument! The instruments got gobbled up pretty quickly, but I was persistent. So, the teacher loaned me his personal clarinet, a one-piece silver clarinet, and I loved it from the get-go.
So that was how it started for you. We had a similar situation in my school in California. I took a viola home and, for three weeks, my poor dog didn’t stop barking when I played, so that was the end of my viola career. (More laughter.)
I also had this other experience. My next-door neighbors were two elderly sisters from Germany. Rosemary Hahn had been a concert pianist in Germany, and I was allowed to practice on their Steinway piano. I was three or four years old, and I would lie under the piano and listen to her play. That really sticks with me. Later I would study with her. She had a strong impact on me.
That’s such a great story. When you’re young those exposures can trigger such memories.
They really did. She would write poetry down, some of her own (at this point Jane moves around the room, looking for quotes.) I have some notes up, framed. This is one of the things she said to me. Where there is no vision, people perish. I keep some by my bedside. She’d have me write these down. Here’s a good one. A man’s reach should exceed his grasp or what is heaven for? Browning.
I also had this other experience. My next-door neighbors were two elderly sisters from Germany. Rosemary Hahn had been a concert pianist in Germany, and I was allowed to practice on their Steinway piano. I was three or four years old, and I would lie under the piano and listen to her play. That really sticks with me. Later I would study with her. She had a strong impact on me.
That’s such a great story. When you’re young those exposures can trigger such memories.
They really did. She would write poetry down, some of her own (at this point Jane moves around the room, looking for quotes.) I have some notes up, framed. This is one of the things she said to me. Where there is no vision, people perish. I keep some by my bedside. She’d have me write these down. Here’s a good one. A man’s reach should exceed his grasp or what is heaven for? Browning.
I love that.
Here’s one of hers: ‘Today is yesterday’s future. Today is tomorrow’s past.’ I look back on this stuff and I go ‘wow.’ I was lucky as a musician to have someone like that in my life.
I remember Gertrude Stein used to say we live in the continuous present. Past, present and future are all connected in this stream of time.
Yes. I’m just trying to look at things as they happen with projects.
Here’s one of hers: ‘Today is yesterday’s future. Today is tomorrow’s past.’ I look back on this stuff and I go ‘wow.’ I was lucky as a musician to have someone like that in my life.
I remember Gertrude Stein used to say we live in the continuous present. Past, present and future are all connected in this stream of time.
Yes. I’m just trying to look at things as they happen with projects.
You’ve always valued improvisation, so different musical styles are not strange to you. At what point did you discover the Latin rhythms? Was that when you met your musician husband, Larry, or earlier?
Well…I went to five high schools. I was very rowdy, a creative person that didn’t really fit in. At sixteen or seventeen, I managed to convince my parents to let me take a year out of school. And I just sat and played the piano all day. I went to this piano teacher who really put the fire under my pants. We had recitals once a month where the students had to perform for each other. It was a very high standard. I’ve never had that kind of discipline in my life because from the age of three my parents thought ‘she’ll be fine, whatever.’ I was really trying to find myself. The music that I gravitated toward had that kind of Spanish tinge to it. Ravel or Alberto Ginastera and Alvarez, the Argentine composers.
Well…I went to five high schools. I was very rowdy, a creative person that didn’t really fit in. At sixteen or seventeen, I managed to convince my parents to let me take a year out of school. And I just sat and played the piano all day. I went to this piano teacher who really put the fire under my pants. We had recitals once a month where the students had to perform for each other. It was a very high standard. I’ve never had that kind of discipline in my life because from the age of three my parents thought ‘she’ll be fine, whatever.’ I was really trying to find myself. The music that I gravitated toward had that kind of Spanish tinge to it. Ravel or Alberto Ginastera and Alvarez, the Argentine composers.
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I love all that intensity.
I really loved the rhythm, and I played it well. We had a jazz club, and on Saturdays my dad would get off work, and we would go to the matinee. I was underage, and we’d hear Charlie Mingus or Horace Silver or Mose Allison. Once again, it had that Latin tinge, those African roots. I was really enthralled. I was learning the standards and playing with friends, sometimes two chords because you’re freed up somewhat. Years later, my husband and I started a group, and we got our first trip to Cuba. It was 1981-82, and there was an ad in the Toronto Star for one week in Santiago de Cuba at a brand new hotel — three hundred and some dollars for seven nights.
Seven nights?
Seven. The flight, Visa, and three meals a day. When we came into the airport, there was a small trio playing, and when we went to the baggage claim, there was a quartet playing. Later, there was an Afro-Cuban folkloric group playing. Then, while I’m unpacking my bag, I hear this earthshattering mambo, thinking that’s some sound system they have going, so I better check that out! It was eighteen guys, four trumpets, six saxophones and two trombones, an eighteen-piece group playing for five people in the whole hotel! It was just blowing our minds. I said, ‘Larry, get your horn!’ So, we went back to get our horns.
I really loved the rhythm, and I played it well. We had a jazz club, and on Saturdays my dad would get off work, and we would go to the matinee. I was underage, and we’d hear Charlie Mingus or Horace Silver or Mose Allison. Once again, it had that Latin tinge, those African roots. I was really enthralled. I was learning the standards and playing with friends, sometimes two chords because you’re freed up somewhat. Years later, my husband and I started a group, and we got our first trip to Cuba. It was 1981-82, and there was an ad in the Toronto Star for one week in Santiago de Cuba at a brand new hotel — three hundred and some dollars for seven nights.
Seven nights?
Seven. The flight, Visa, and three meals a day. When we came into the airport, there was a small trio playing, and when we went to the baggage claim, there was a quartet playing. Later, there was an Afro-Cuban folkloric group playing. Then, while I’m unpacking my bag, I hear this earthshattering mambo, thinking that’s some sound system they have going, so I better check that out! It was eighteen guys, four trumpets, six saxophones and two trombones, an eighteen-piece group playing for five people in the whole hotel! It was just blowing our minds. I said, ‘Larry, get your horn!’ So, we went back to get our horns.
So, you improvised with the group?
We were naïve! I mean we’d never do something ballsy like that now. But we sat there with our horns beside us, and one of the trumpet players said, ‘Okay, come up here, let’s hear ya.’ I guess we did okay because they didn’t kick us off. To hear that much music within a few hours of being in Cuba! Then, the next day we met a few of the musicians in town. This was a rough time in Cuba, no supplies or anything, and then it started to get dark. It was unreal.
There must have been risks. But as a woman, you probably felt glad you could be out exploring with your husband.
Yeah. I was very fortunate to have somebody who was gung ho and adventuresome. And me, even more so. That first trip just did it. We came home from Santiago, the Caribbean side of Cuba, and saw another trip to Havana. Three weeks later, we went with a little book of major musicians we should look up. It was like going into Manhattan to meet the guys who are making records, the legends — the people we’d end up playing, working, recording, and touring with! So that was it.
You both fell in love with Cuba. Did you move down there at that point?
No. I’ve never formally taken a home down there. I made a documentary down there — Spirits of Havana on the Canadian National Film Board site. It’s a musical documentary about our crossing the country.
Communicating through music, you probably had more freedom to move around in Cuba. As a female musician, did they just automatically accept you?
You never know what people are always thinking. I’ve always felt very accepted.
By the time you were in Cuba you were very accomplished. That must have given you an extra amount of confidence that a lot of women being in that machismo culture might not have had.
The thing is both of us had spent a lot of social time in Cuba. We cultivated our musical friendships by repeated visits. It’s a very long-term commitment that we’ve never given up.
We were naïve! I mean we’d never do something ballsy like that now. But we sat there with our horns beside us, and one of the trumpet players said, ‘Okay, come up here, let’s hear ya.’ I guess we did okay because they didn’t kick us off. To hear that much music within a few hours of being in Cuba! Then, the next day we met a few of the musicians in town. This was a rough time in Cuba, no supplies or anything, and then it started to get dark. It was unreal.
There must have been risks. But as a woman, you probably felt glad you could be out exploring with your husband.
Yeah. I was very fortunate to have somebody who was gung ho and adventuresome. And me, even more so. That first trip just did it. We came home from Santiago, the Caribbean side of Cuba, and saw another trip to Havana. Three weeks later, we went with a little book of major musicians we should look up. It was like going into Manhattan to meet the guys who are making records, the legends — the people we’d end up playing, working, recording, and touring with! So that was it.
You both fell in love with Cuba. Did you move down there at that point?
No. I’ve never formally taken a home down there. I made a documentary down there — Spirits of Havana on the Canadian National Film Board site. It’s a musical documentary about our crossing the country.
Communicating through music, you probably had more freedom to move around in Cuba. As a female musician, did they just automatically accept you?
You never know what people are always thinking. I’ve always felt very accepted.
By the time you were in Cuba you were very accomplished. That must have given you an extra amount of confidence that a lot of women being in that machismo culture might not have had.
The thing is both of us had spent a lot of social time in Cuba. We cultivated our musical friendships by repeated visits. It’s a very long-term commitment that we’ve never given up.
Jane Bunnett and Maqueque at The Falcon (July 2024)
Photo Credit: Myrna Haskell |
Jane, when I heard you play at The Falcon (Marlboro, New York) with Maqueque, I was curious about how that group came together. How did you find these young women?
Thanks for your insight, because a lot of people think I didn’t do that. It’s been a learning curve. For thirty years, my husband and I had a band, The Spirit of Havana. And I realized I’d been the only woman in the group. We were doing a project called ‘The Spirit of Music,’ and we worked across the country in twenty-five conservatories, but I’d never seen women students out on the scene. With a jam session I’d be the only one with my horn, and I’d see these girls sitting there without their instruments. I’d say, ‘Where’s your violin? Where’s your cello?’ And they’d say, ‘Well, my boyfriend’s up there playing.’ And I’d say, ‘Well, my boyfriend’s up here, too!’ And they were somewhat intimidated to get out there and play. You must have been an inspiration to them. I had this conversation with Larry. So many times he’d say, ‘Stop talking about it and do something.’ I met this woman, Dayme Arocena, a really wonderful vocalist. When she came here [to Toronto], I said we could make this recording. When she went back to Cuba, she started sending me videotapes of performers. I had applied for a grant for a recording, but I didn’t get it; so I said the hell with it, I’ll pay for it with our own money. |
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So, we went down and started rehearsing. And that was rough. The base player, Celia Jimenez, was actually a classical bassoonist. She wanted to be in the band so badly, so she bought a base. Later I found out the base was broken. When I tweaked the record, I wondered why the base sounded so funky! The pianist you heard, Dánae Olano, was the number two classical pianist in Cuba and was just starting to learn about improvising. She had such potential, but she wasn’t there yet. And Yissy Garcia, the drummer, was the most established.
Anyway, we started by ourselves. We were having blackouts then, like when the electricity goes out. I know about those as a New Yorker! We were in this ghostly place — there was no electricity, so we were sitting there in the dark, figuring out what we were going to do. It was horrendous, so we moved to another studio. It was really tough to do, the first Maqueque record. When we came back with the record, we said it’s a dog’s bad breath! (Laughter). But in the end, we worked it out and the record ended up getting a JUNO, which is like a Grammy in Canada. That’s so fabulous. That was 2013 when I went down there. In 2014 the record gets finished up, and in 2015, we get a JUNO award. And then I thought, WOW, this is really resonating with people, because before the #MeToo movement, there weren’t a lot of women ensembles, and there weren’t Cuban jazz female ensembles. So, we were ahead of the curve. |
First Album (Click album cover for more about the music.)
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Amazing! To get that award with the first album!
Yep. So, we did our first two, and that following summer I organized the tour across Canada. It wasn’t easy. And then we went into the States and that was rough. All the red tape because everyone was still in Cuba, and I had to go to the State Department and petition. Thousands of dollars…and the Visas! We did our first U.S. tour, and it went really well. That was 2016-17, and four records later, we’re still at it.
It's an all-women’s phenomenon. You must have felt there was real commitment on the part of the other members of the band.
It was very hard to see what these guys had to do from their end — to put in the legwork, the transportation to get to the Embassy to do the interview. They are incredibly resilient, and they’re up against a lot, you know. When it comes time to perform, it’s got to be a hundred percent, and that makes it all worth it.
Yep. So, we did our first two, and that following summer I organized the tour across Canada. It wasn’t easy. And then we went into the States and that was rough. All the red tape because everyone was still in Cuba, and I had to go to the State Department and petition. Thousands of dollars…and the Visas! We did our first U.S. tour, and it went really well. That was 2016-17, and four records later, we’re still at it.
It's an all-women’s phenomenon. You must have felt there was real commitment on the part of the other members of the band.
It was very hard to see what these guys had to do from their end — to put in the legwork, the transportation to get to the Embassy to do the interview. They are incredibly resilient, and they’re up against a lot, you know. When it comes time to perform, it’s got to be a hundred percent, and that makes it all worth it.
And for you, because you’re the one who made that early commitment. It sounds like a perfect marriage of these women coming together. And it’s a great sound! I can’t imagine how anyone wouldn’t fall in love with it.
I’m glad you like it!
I’m glad you like it!
L to R: Joanna Tendai Majoko, Yissy García, Jane Bunnett, Tailin Marrero Zamora, Dánae Olano, MaryPaz Fernández
Photo Credit: Rick McGinnis
Photo Credit: Rick McGinnis
Do you have any strong feelings about different audiences, depending on where you’re playing?
Not really. That’s a good question. Colombia, Latin America and Brazil are all places that have responded strongly to the group because they have a real understanding of that music, how it’s evolved.
It’s in their genes.
Yes, in their genes! I find everybody responds to rhythm, so that’s the commonality. The Germans are — I know it sounds like a cliché — very reserved. They’re not going to (she lets out a whoop!). In Chicago and Savannah and California, they really respond. So that’s a nice feeling when you get that.
It seems like you’ve been the perfect mentor. Do you have any advice for a young woman musician who’s starting out?
One of the most important things is to try and enjoy the journey. For a lot of people, it’s all about business, should I get a manager and this and that when you haven’t even paid any dues. Everyone wants the fast track to success. Secondly, I think it’s important to home in on what’s representative of you, not copying what somebody else is doing.
It’s got to be something you love to do that’s part of the journey.
Yes, you can’t just sit there and practice your scales up and down every day. You might be putting the time in, but you’re not putting the thought in. That’s hard — to be unique and at the same time be authentic. I feel like I’m authentic because there’s been no fast track to what I do. Obviously, many musicians like skimming the surface to get quickly to the goal. I guess that’s one way of doing things.
I think that’s such a good observation, Jane, because looking at the culture we’re living in, where everything is the quick sound bite, nobody has the attention span to get through reading a short story.
That’s true.
I think that’s true of almost all the arts, going through that process, not trying to rush it.
You said the word ‘process,’ and I think a lot of people are not into the process. I’m thinking of a pianist, a young man who worked with us, and at one o’clock at night he’d be half asleep, playing chord after chord with his head down on the piano. He was putting in those ten thousand hours. He was into the process. I don’t know if those days are gone.
That’s what it takes. I have one last question for you. Where do you find sanctuary?
Well, two places, I guess. Sometimes it can be with the music when you’re in that zone. The other one is being in nature and painting. So those two things go together. When I’m up north – trees and birds and animals running around – I’m quiet in a quiet place, and I’m just taking in the beauty of what’s around me. That’s it for me.
Even when you’re silent and the birds are chirping, you’re probably hearing music inside your head.
They really go hand in hand. When I’m hearing music, there are colors and gestures, and they’re all really entwined.
Not really. That’s a good question. Colombia, Latin America and Brazil are all places that have responded strongly to the group because they have a real understanding of that music, how it’s evolved.
It’s in their genes.
Yes, in their genes! I find everybody responds to rhythm, so that’s the commonality. The Germans are — I know it sounds like a cliché — very reserved. They’re not going to (she lets out a whoop!). In Chicago and Savannah and California, they really respond. So that’s a nice feeling when you get that.
It seems like you’ve been the perfect mentor. Do you have any advice for a young woman musician who’s starting out?
One of the most important things is to try and enjoy the journey. For a lot of people, it’s all about business, should I get a manager and this and that when you haven’t even paid any dues. Everyone wants the fast track to success. Secondly, I think it’s important to home in on what’s representative of you, not copying what somebody else is doing.
It’s got to be something you love to do that’s part of the journey.
Yes, you can’t just sit there and practice your scales up and down every day. You might be putting the time in, but you’re not putting the thought in. That’s hard — to be unique and at the same time be authentic. I feel like I’m authentic because there’s been no fast track to what I do. Obviously, many musicians like skimming the surface to get quickly to the goal. I guess that’s one way of doing things.
I think that’s such a good observation, Jane, because looking at the culture we’re living in, where everything is the quick sound bite, nobody has the attention span to get through reading a short story.
That’s true.
I think that’s true of almost all the arts, going through that process, not trying to rush it.
You said the word ‘process,’ and I think a lot of people are not into the process. I’m thinking of a pianist, a young man who worked with us, and at one o’clock at night he’d be half asleep, playing chord after chord with his head down on the piano. He was putting in those ten thousand hours. He was into the process. I don’t know if those days are gone.
That’s what it takes. I have one last question for you. Where do you find sanctuary?
Well, two places, I guess. Sometimes it can be with the music when you’re in that zone. The other one is being in nature and painting. So those two things go together. When I’m up north – trees and birds and animals running around – I’m quiet in a quiet place, and I’m just taking in the beauty of what’s around me. That’s it for me.
Even when you’re silent and the birds are chirping, you’re probably hearing music inside your head.
They really go hand in hand. When I’m hearing music, there are colors and gestures, and they’re all really entwined.
