2025 Rearview – A Miserable Year With a Brilliant Soundtrack

December 30, 2025

Let’s just kick the elephant out the door and say that 2025 was, to say the least, a very rough year. From the get go, when the lowest of humanity barreled down Bourbon Street killing 14 on New Year’s Day, to the Palisades Fire nearly taking down our home (and the survivor’s guilt that comes with knowing so many who lost theirs in both fires), to the inauguration that threw the country into unprecedented dark times, I was pretty much done with 2025 before January was out. But that just made the refuge of what matters most, the people we love, the art that shapes us, and our own emotional heartbeat, all the more powerful throughout the year. Because the soundtrack never wavered. My roll may have slowed a bit recovering from foot surgery, but I also throttled down a gear by choice. Sure, I missed my first Jazz Fest in 20 years, but the oyster fueled Newport Folk and Jazz Festivals and the company of some of the best in the biz I’m also lucky to call good friends, was not. Along the way from the Americana Music Association’s tribute to John Hiatt, to many shows at the freshly launched Blue Note Los Angeles, this photographer’s eyes and ears were nourished in 2025.

One of the city’s beloved venues, The Hotel Café, will be closing its current location on Cahuenga. While the room has long been a second home for L.A.’s singer-songwriters, a jazz series under the L.A. Scene banner has quietly taken root the past few years. One late-January show (“Volume 6”)—featuring pianist Cameron Graves, trombonist Ryan Porter and drummer Tony Austin of the West Coast Get Down, trumpeters Keyon Harrold and Tatiana Tate, Sam Barsh on keys, Bob Reynolds on sax, and bassists Ben Williams and Max Gerl, among others—helped pull me back from that January edge.

 

 

 

 

A few days later, an email hits my inbox asking for coverage of the Americana Music Association’s annual pre-Grammy tribute at The Troubadour. Shows I never cracked, but always curious about, with past honorees including Paul Simon, Lucinda Williams, Willie Nelson and John Prine. These shows land a stacked roster of artists interpreting the honoree’s catalog and this year’s tribute to John Hiatt included Los Lobos, Brandy Clark, I’m With Her, Lyle Lovett, Milk Carton Kids, Tom Morello, Michael McDonald, Little Feat and Joe Bonamassa, along with the man himself and his songwriter daughter, Lilly. Seventeen acts, noon turnaround and one of my favorite shows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I knew I wasn’t going to make Jazz Fest with my surgery scheduled the first week of March, so when New Orleans’ Cha Wa came to the Nimoy Theater in Westwood (converted from the old Crest movie theater of my youth) as part of UCLA’s Center for Artistic Performance (“CAP”) series on March 1^st, I had to reach out to drummer and founder of the band, Joe Gelini, to make sure I was in the house. Joe is one of those guys that’s filled with light, a pretty constant smile busting through that unapologetically bushy upper lip. Cha Wa blends Mardi Gras tradition with foot-stomping funk and the single “Music Is My Medicine”, off their latest, was, shall we say, just what the doctor ordered. Even more so, when Anders Osborne made the trip out west to sit in for a few tunes (especially as I would miss a rare Los Angeles show of his later in the month).

 

 

 

I re-emerged in May, literally finding my footing, for one of my desert island guitarists playing one of my desert island albums at the quirky Zebulon. Billed as the Good Dog Band and also featuring the pedal steel of Greg Leisz, Bill Frisell brought his 1999 record “Good Dog, Happy Man” to the stage in transformative fashion. Slightly edgier, earthier, with darker shadows, yet as reassuringly hopeful as the studio tracks.

 

 

Every year brings its share of private gatherings and parties, but I was unaware of Joe McClure’s annual Crawdad Party going on 29 years strong until attending this year’s version with seven hours of Dead-infused music from Andy Roth & the Crawdandies, with guest John Kadlecik, digging into deep covers from Zep to Neil to the Bee Gees. Not to mention 150 pounds of mudbugs and a family tribe vibe to match the sunset from them thar Shadow Hills (thank you Scott Tuchman for the invite!).

 

 

By June, the wheels were ready for my first show of the season at the Greek, and the latest Trombone Shorty threauxdown, with Dumpstaphunk and JJ Grey on the bill. As much as I’ve covered Troy and company for some 15+ years (the 250-capacity Mint in 2009 was pretty damn memorable), their energy still electrifies the lens. And I’ll always put it in the Dumpsta every chance I get.

 

 

 

With Summer around the corner and Newport Folk and Jazz beckoning, the sight and sounds of Alison Krauss & Union Station, touring on their fabulous “Arcadia” release, were a tractor beam back to the Greek. Now, I’ll follow Jerry Douglas just about anywhere (not in a stalky way, just don’t tell my ears), as the man can do no wrong on that dobro thingee. His solo spot, that included thrilling takes on Chick Corea’s “Spain” and Paul Simon’s “American Tune”, was a knockout. Krauss reminded the Greek crowd that Jerry Douglas, Ron Block (guitar and banjo), and Barry Bales (bass) have been playing together for over three decades, with Russell Moore on guitar taking over for the departed Dan Tyminski the past year. And I’ve been paying attention for that long.

 

 

 

Aah, the return to Fort Adams is so much more than annual dates on a calendar for me. It is a soul-quenching tradition rooted in music and song as power, activism and untethered freedom. The Newport Folk and Jazz Festivals are the oldest music festivals in North America and have shaped and shook generations. Newport is a family of artists and staff that welcome this left coaster every year with open arms and lots of Rhode Island oysters. As I’ve said often in this space, Newport Folk is where legends such as Joni Mitchell, Dolly Parton, Paul Simon or James Taylor just kind of show up, and where collaborations and pop-ups are the rule, not the exception. Where this year, Jesse Welles and Jack Antonoff stood on the shoulders of Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. 

 

 

 

As a long-time staffer put it, Newport is where we go “to recharge the love battery” every year. And when heavy weather barreled down on us the first day, performers and fans alike sheltered within the Fort’s early 19th century stone walls and vestibules. Of course, songs broke out, new friends were made and bonds deepened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One personal highlight was Mary-Chapin Carpenter’s Sunday set, her fifth time at the Fort, but her first in 30 years and the emotion of the moment was obvious (she’s had me at “Come On, Come On”, and just about every record since, softy that I am). Producer Jay Sweet booking Brooklyn indie rockers Geese and jam band stars Goose on Friday (both sets cut short by weather) is worthy of a mention, as was the closing all-hands “Songs for the People”, hosted by that carney barker of folk, John C. Reilly, with appearances by Trombone Shorty, Mavis Staples, Matt Berninger, and turns by Bonny Light Horseman, The Swell Season, Lukas Nelson, Jeff Tweedy, Lucius, Margo Price, and quite a few others. And a huge shout out to the folks at Grandstand Media for all the wrangling, and logistics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The 71^st Newport Jazz Festival was the last under Artistic Director Christian McBride, who took over for the late founder George Wein in 2015. McBride was everywhere over the three days, performing, introducing, running point, and his impact will be everlasting. From the most recorded bassist in jazz history, the master of four string elegance, Ron Carter, opening the 2025 edition, to a Roy Haynes centennial tribute with grandson Marcus Gilmore, along with Kenny Garrett, Danilo Pérez, and John Patitucci, to McBride’s return with his big band for the first time since their 2017 Newport debut, this Newport Jazz Festival was all rather meaningful for me.

 

 

 

 

But it wasn’t without controversy. Putting McBride’s Philadelphia Experiment, with Questlove behind the kit, opposite John Scofield/Louis Cato/Marcus Miller just wasn’t fair to anyone suffering FOMO. Otherwise, it was three solid days of memorable sets and near‑perfect weather overlooking Narragansett Bay. Along the way, Raye was a knockout, Nubya Garcia and Dianne Reeves turned in stirring back‑to‑back sets, and Lakecia Benjamin was an unstoppable powerhouse. And that was a trio you don’t see every day with harpist Edmar Castañeda with drummer Antonio Sánchez and banjo extraordinaire Béla Fleck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As a photographer, there’s another side to the festival—the chance to sit with artists for portrait sessions within those 200‑year‑old stone walls. These moments are brief but personal, often squeezed in after a set and before interviews, on very tight schedules. This year, I was fortunate to spend time with Kenny Garrett, Nubya Garcia, Lakecia Benjamin, Terreon Gully, Hiromi, and Emmet Cohen. An honor, really—to engage, draw out, and hopefully capture a bit of what moves them to move us – in five to ten minutes.

 

 

 

 

Back home, the Greek was calling me for the Tedeschi Trucks Band, still one of my favorite touring outfits on the planet, a 12-piece that moves as nimbly as a jazz trio, spreading the sheer joy of Derek and Susan’s enduring musical marriage. Man, that August night felt like a coming together at a moment dominated by chaos and artifice, that was undeniably real. The authentic defying the noise, mayhem quelled by the music. That’s my kind of higher power (capped by a rousing “With A Little Help from My Friends” closer).

 

 

 

If you know me at all, you know that I’m devoted to the Los Angeles jazz scene and that we are a close community bonded by the fearlessness and adventure of the music and musicians. While the city’s jazz roots are vital, between post-COVID venues struggling to hold their doors open and the day-to-day wallet pinch felt by all, Los Angeles also brings its challenges of geography and resources to keeping the music thriving. But thriving it is. As a Board member with the Just Jazz Foundation, I’ve worked closely with LeRoy Downs “The Jazzcat”, and with Fred Smith, who produced an improbable run of shows over a four-year period at the intimate Mr. Musichead gallery. Through that series, I came to know Grammy winners alongside students just starting their careers (and some of the next young lions). And a bunch of these talented players switched coasts from New York to L.A., seeing the potential and opportunity to expand their reach. So, when the world-famous Blue Note splashed down in Hollywood in August, it was a huge addition that would hopefully live up to the legacy of the NYC original. The reality was even better. The bookings are top tier, the sightlines excellent, sound beyond spot on and the place has a vibe to it that pumps some Manhattan into Hollywood. I’ve gotten to know the place and those who work there, and it’s a class act that enriches the city and all who embrace the music.

My first taste of Blue Note Los Angeles came in September for saxophonist Isaiah Collier and the Chosen Few. A stunning and passionate set. A few weeks later I returned for Chief Xian aTunde Adjuah, whom I’ve covered since his early Christian Scott days in New Orleans. It’s totally satisfying to this photographer to follow and document an artist’s creative arc over a career, and Chief Adjuah is one of those exceptional artists. As Christian Scott, he carved a path with the aptly named “stretch music” and as Chief Adjuah, he has blown that concept wide open, infusing multi-cultural influences from New Orleans to West Africa and creating the “Adjuah bow”, an electric, pulsing, double-sided harp of sorts he often blends with vocals, when not playing one of his signature reverse flugels. At the end of the night, Willow, who caught the set, asked the Chief to show her how to play the bow, and the joy of that moment was just full of wide-eyed wonder. Pretty cool.

 

 

 

 

As the calendar leaned Fall, I found myself back at the Troubadour for Lucinda Williams, and the Dave Alvin led band that jams, The Third Mind. The Lucinda show was especially poignant as this was the first time I had covered her since her stroke in 2020. So, yes, there were limitations (no more strumming), but Lu is as feisty and true to her songs as ever and the set list was full of nuggets (including “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” from her 2024 Abbey Road album of Beatles covers, which I rather love). As to The Third Mind, this dude’s ecstatic the band has committed more time to the studio and the road, for what could easily have been a one-off and now is headed into its seventh year. The musical star power of Dave Alvin, Victor Krummenacher, Michael Jerome, Jesse Sykes and Mark Karan, with guest Willie Aron, is a constellation nobody had on their bingo card to deep dive into “Dark Star” or Mike Bloomfield’s extended “East-West”. So, yes, my Third Mind was blown yet again.

 

 

 

 

The balance of my year was appropriately jazz-centric, having really found a new home at Blue Note Los Angeles, and covering a few other exceptional gigs. I’ll start with Kamasi Washington’s run of 24 shows over 12 nights at the Blue Note, with everyone assuredly a sellout. It’s never been clearer how important Kamasi and the West Coast Get Down collective are to this city. They expand boundaries, break them down, then rebuild them into explosions of sonic emotion. Pretty incredible it’s been 10 years since “The Epic”.

 

 

 

I had been eyeing the Brad Mehldau-Christian McBride duo tour and when a composer friend caught them in Brooklyn and went on about their exquisite dialogue, I made sure to get to the Bram Goldsmith & Lovelace Studio Theater at the Wallis in Beverly Hills. That it somehow landed on an NLCS off night in October was some kind of sign. And what transpired was the kind of musical intuition and kinship you would expect from these two, an ease and respect that flowed throughout the set.

 

 

 

To my own surprise, I had never caught up with Branford Marsalis live, so his night at Blue Note Los Angeles was not a choice. Especially as he was touring on the freshly Grammy nominated “Belonging” album, touching on everything from the bouncy skedaddle of Jarrett’s “The Windup” to prohibition-era New Orleans tunes. Eric Revis on bass, Joey Calderazzo on piano and Justin Faulkner on drums filled the quartet, with plenty of Branford’s sweet soprano throughout. A sound I carry back in my head four decades to the first time I heard him on Sting’s “Dream of the Blue Turtles” and was a naif to the larger Marsalis clan.

 

 

The convergence of Eric Lindell, Ivan Neville, and Tipitina’s partners Stanton Moore and Robert Mercurio (who day job as the Galactic rhythm section), AKA Dragon Smoke, is a unique alignment, birthed from a late-night “super” jam during Jazz Fest in the long-gone Dragon’s Den. And I almost missed their annual we-never-do-this-anywhere-else-except-when-we-go-left-coastal-to-Cali-for-a-handful-of-dates tour at Venice West (but I didn’t). Good thing, as I would’ve missed staples and deeper “tracks”, but especially Ivan’s “Greatest Place on Earth”, from his last record, which always leaves me grinning.

 

 

 

The year wound down with two memorable jazz performances. Bassist Marcus Miller played eight sold out shows at the Catalina Bar & Grill, not far from the Blue Note, and while I haven’t frequented the venue as much in recent years, it was good to see the place packed and buzzing. Catalina’s has been a fixture for decades and my list of incredible experiences there is a pretty long who’s who.

 

 

No coincidence my year ended with Charles Lloyd and an almost spiritual set at the Blue Note, with pianist Gerald Clayton, bassist Larry Grenedier and drummer Kweku Sumbry. A quartet with a shared musical language forged along a path the 87-year-old Lloyd has travelled since the 60s. The defining moment of that night (and one that bodes well for whatever comes next) was when fellow photographer and author Eddie Valfre leaned across the table during the closing “Forest Flower”, and said “that song saved my life”. That truth was in his eyes.

 

 

 

 

That’s the payoff. The calendar will turn, the music will roll, and we all get to go around again. And I’ll be listening. With my eyes.