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06

March, 2026

Text: Krzysztof Komorek
Photos: Donos Kulturalny

Donos Kulturalny/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | “I like starting things over”

Aleksandra Kryńska grew up in the world of classical music, and her career in that field can be considered very successful. She graduated from the Academy of Music in Krakow. She collaborated with esteemed and prestigious classical music ensembles, including the Sinfonietta Cracovia and Amsterdam’s Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. As Orchestra member she performed with luminaries of the contemporary classical scene—Albrecht Mayer, Krzysztof Penderecki, the Labèque sisters, Rainer Honeck, and Gábor Boldoczki. She participated in the “50 for the Future” program initiated by the Kronos Quartet.

When did your interest in pursuing music professionally appear?

I decided to go to the Academy of Music in my second year of high school. I studied in Professor Wiesław Kwaśny’s class. Professor Kwaśny is part of the “old guard” of Polish violin playing; he was demanding, but as it later turned out, also very understanding and supportive.

Yet, unexpectedly, you suddenly found yourself in the world of jazz.

I like starting things over. I have a feeling that then, everything is still possible. I think it’s both a curse and a blessing. That’s how it was in 2017 when I went to the Festival & Masterclass course-competition in Piła. I was almost exclusively involved in classical music, practiced a lot back then, and went to improvisation workshops to “break out.” The lecturer was Adam Bałdych. Having nothing to do with jazz, I received the “Jazz Personality” award then.

Did improvised music immediately become your new fascination then?

At first, I wasn’t that into improvisation.  In 2018—a year after the competition—when I wasn’t accepted into the master’s program for classical violin in Dusseldorf, I decided to try to get into the Jazz Department at the University of Music in Warsaw. I was 23. I succeeded. The beginnings were exciting but also stressful; I felt pressure to prove something. It annoyed me that I was at such a low level; I wanted rapid progress. I realized that the violin isn’t particularly suited as a “sideman” instrument, and you have to figure out something of your own, so I just started writing pieces. It was a path through torture: I had no workshop skills, writing a few bars on the computer took me a lot of time, and there were huge theoretical gaps. I did and tried to learn everything at once.

Meeting with figures deeply rooted and recognized in the jazz world surely helped.

At the university, I had great lecturers; besides my main tutor Mateusz Smoczyński, there was Maciej Obara. His classes were absolutely mind-opening. I created my first band, the KRVNSKA QUARTET, with Piotr Andrzejewski, Maciej Baraniak, and Igor Falecki. We played my compositions. The guys were the best in the world and were very understanding of my scores, which aspired to be professional. At that time, I still had one foot in the classical world, but I felt that someday I would have to decide on a more decisive separation of my worlds.

What became the turning point and helped in making the decision?

I had a crisis; I didn’t take up jazz master’s studies, I wanted to quit. And contrary to my plans, I qualified for the International Jazz Platform [prestigious workshops for musicians in Lodz focused on improvised music], which I completely didn’t expect. During those workshops, a lot of things turned upside down; I returned to playing and met people made from the same clay, which made me feel less alone. I went to my first jam session at SPATiF [renowned, Warsaw based club for improvised music and jazz]. Karolina Szewc – head of SPATiF – was there; we immediately hit it off. I felt like I was in a second home there; later she considered me for various concert configurations.

Concerts at SPATiF became an opportunity for artistic meetings and starting regular collaborations.

Yes. Thanks to them, I played with, among others, Raphael Rogiński, and I appeared on the “Music For Peace” recording session, where I met trumpeter Piotr Damasiewicz. We created a duo, mostly improvising; we played together for two years and did a tour in Japan as part of Jazz Po Polsku programme [A concert project showcasing Polish jazz internationally. Its name can be translated as „Jazz – The Polish Way”]. It was an important collaboration; I learned a lot.

In 2024, you reached the finals of the prestigious Seifert Competition.

My career wasn’t heading towards a solo path. I didn’t have competition successes; I knew I wasn’t really suited for that. I don’t have the spine of a racehorse . Competition in artistic fields seems like an absurdity to me. But we live in times where quantifiability makes it easier to slot us into a box. It’s a pity I’m starting to observe this more and more often around me. I had no expectations and didn’t want any. After a few years of learning and improvising, I simply wanted to check what stage I was at on this new path. Later I also found out that, among others, Dominik Wania on piano would be playing with us. It was my dream to play with him someday, so I was overjoyed. I managed to reach the finals, and I consider that my success. A lot of good things happened. Did it help me in any way? I met great people and musicians, and the Seifert Foundation took my album under its patronage. I think thanks to the competition I somewhat marked my presence in the music world a bit more, but that might also be a bit of an overstatement.

Year 2025 could be called breakthrough.

Definitely. First and foremost, my album, recorded a year earlier, was released. When the moment came that I felt it was time to gather myself, record, and release original material, I decided to create a new formation. I invited the aforementioned Piotr Damasiewicz, Szymon Mika, Michał Aftyka, Bartosz Szablowski. We met for the first time the day before recording the album, then three days in the studio; we recorded the material. I’m also happy with the concerts I played then—including one with Paal Nilssen-Love’s Large Unit.

A follow-up to participating in the International Jazz Platform is the project ÄETHER—three of the female artists in it were participants of the Platform.

I was invited to create the Polish-French ensemble ÄETHER with Amalia Umeda, Maelle Debsbrosses, and Adele Viret. Our quartet performed for the first time during the Jazzdor Strasbourg Berlin Festival. Then we played in Łódź at Summer Jazz Academy Festival and in Strasbourg. We have plans for more concerts. Each of us brought a piece or pieces. We worked on the material in Berlin for three days. It was a demanding experience. In the end, we managed to find a common language, and I think above all, we created music—and that doesn’t always happen.

In ÄETHER, alongside improvisation, one can find influences of contemporary classical music. So you haven’t completely broken with your former artistic worlds.

Each of us has larger or smaller classical roots. We play acoustically. So I think it was unavoidable.

So a lot is happening, but you are still drawn to changes.

Speaking of new beginnings, I plan to present myself in yet another guise; I’m working on new material, learning from musician friends, and developing further. We’ll see what happens, but I don’t know if I need to know.

Este artículo se publica simultáneamente en las siguientes revistas europeas, en el marco de “Milestones”, una operación para destacar a las jóvenes músicas de jazz y blues : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) y Donos Kulturalny (PL).

This article is co-published simultaneously in the following European magazines, as part of « Milestones » an operation to highlight young jazz and blues female musicians : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) and Donos Kulturalny (PL).

#Womentothefore #IWD2026

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05

March, 2026

Text: Matthieu Jouan
Photos: Citizen Jazz

Citizen Jazz/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | A Serious Prankster

Portrait of a young trumpeter and violinist in full artistic bloom

Born in Vendée in a family where music and instruments have always been important, Lucille Moussalli first turned to the violin. An instruction at the music school between the ages of 6 and 14, complemented by a trumpet class starting at the age of 9. Then she entered high school in Nantes in the theater, music, and dance section, completed her studies, and joined the Conservatory in Paris in 2023.

She has always been surrounded by music: “My maternal grandfather played (and still plays) an important role in my musical education, he would play many musical instruments for me when I was just a few months old, and he was the one who taught me the basic basics of the violin”.

You got your start in Nantes, what do you think of this jazz scene?

Each city is an ecosystem defined by the individuals that compose it. Since my arrival in Paris, I feel fulfilled. I am fortunate to have met the people I play with today, and I appreciate the privilege of living in a large city bustling with so many cultural activities. Nantes is special. I feel good when I go back there, it’s where I had my first jams and it’s always nice to reconnect with the people I played standards with. You need to find out about the artists and venues in Nantes and go see them.

You need to come and support them because the Pays de la Loire region has suffered drastic budget cuts (73% less for culture, 74% less for sports, and 90% less for gender equality). It is the result of a completely irresponsible decision by the regional president Christelle Morançais for the 2025 budget. And the Pays de la Loire will face an additional 15 million euros in budget cuts for 2026.

You are part of the Mme Farceuse collective (Ms. Prankster), can you explain how and why this collective was formed? What are its current projects?

This collective was created in June 2022 when I was still in Nantes, with my friends Louise Chavanon and Eliot Broissand. We perform in various formations (from trio to quintet), which gives us a certain freedom in writing.

Right now, we’re taking our time; we’re not all based in the same cities, so it’s quite complicated to organize concerts/rehearsals.

We have done a few concerts and we plan to record an album and try out for showcases to be able to play as much as possible!

How would you describe the Vogelfrei quartet? What is your role in it?

Vogelfrei is a quartet with Loris Grillo, Anthony Jouravsky, and Antonio Barcelona.

“Vogelfrei” is the equivalent of “outlaw” in French: a person who breaks the laws, lives outside the laws, I think it describes our music well.

The group is led by Loris, but we all participate in the artistic direction. We will soon be recording an album with this group as well.

Is the duo Preset the most improvised of all your projects? What is its purpose?

Yes, it is the most improvised of all my projects, but it is not entirely so. With Antonio Barcelona, we work on textures, extended techniques, and different densities outside of improvisation, and then we improvise with these sound tools. Currently, we are exploring how to incorporate electronics into our performances to give them a new dimension and are increasingly leaning toward a show organized in multiple parts. Our focus is on analyzing the different aspects of the duo, how two entities communicate, can confront each other, intertwine, and elude each other…

You recently performed with Ailefroide and Ivresse, along with Fanny Ménégoz, in a wind trio with drums. This isn’t your only group without a harmonic instrument, is it an esthetic choice for you?

It was a very beautiful moment! I had never played an entire program in this formation, and I felt very comfortable; everyone was exactly where they needed to be. And I was very grateful to play Fanny’s compositions!

Indeed, this is not the only project without a harmonic instrument that I play in.

I love the sound of these formations; there is something deep and dry that attracts me.

On the other hand, I have discovered a certain fondness for the counterpoint created by the voices of monodic instruments (between them and with the drums), and moreover, the absence of instruments that mark the harmony allows our ear to be less influenced when improvising in a tonal or modal context. We are therefore freer!

Do you still play the violin on stage, and if so, what are the differences in playing, improvisation, and expression between these two instruments?

Yes, more specifically, I started playing the violin on stage again; I had stopped for a few years. Apart from the different timbres when playing the trumpet and violin conventionally, I don’t make any distinctions between the two instruments in my improvisation style; I think in the same way. On the other hand, working with sounds using extended techniques allows me to create a bridge between the sounds I produce.

In general, the younger generations of musicians who graduate from the conservatory form bands. What is your band?

My band is called Mouvances (and it gives its name to the first album). I asked people I admire a lot to play with me: Vladimir Sekula on piano, Tom Boizot on double bass, and Antonio Barcelona on drums. Sometimes we invite Lou Ferrand, a singer who, in my opinion, has a very deep and touching understanding of music.

The #IWD project is a European initiative to give visibility to female musicians. We must continue to insist. What is your position as a female musician on the subject?

I am in favor of this kind of initiative, as long as it doesn’t divert attention from the organization that highlights the musician. Because sometimes these initiatives end up being pure pinkwashing, and that’s a bad thing.
We must continue to insist on including women and gender minorities, because it is only thru radical actions that we achieve results: better visibility, more women and gender minorities in orchestras/groups, etc…

The new generation seems much more sensitive to issues of gender, equality, and representation. Are you still confronted with sexist, discriminatory, or simply inappropriate attitudes?

Yes, the new generation is more sensitive to these issues. And obviously, like everyone, I am confronted with sexist attitudes. Certainly, progress has been made, but there is still a hostile climate for women. The world of jazz is not a bubble excluded from our sexist and patriarchal society, and there is still a lot of fundamental work to be done to change that.

Where can we hear you (album, website, concerts)?

The first album by Mouvances has been released on all platforms under the label l’Autre Records. I sometimes post concert recordings on my Soundcloud.
Regarding my upcoming dates, I post them on my Instagram account, and I think I’ll create a website soon to gather everything.

Este artículo se publica simultáneamente en las siguientes revistas europeas, en el marco de “Milestones”, una operación para destacar a las jóvenes músicas de jazz y blues : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) y Donos Kulturalny (PL).

This article is co-published simultaneously in the following European magazines, as part of « Milestones » an operation to highlight young jazz and blues female musicians : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) and Donos Kulturalny (PL).

#Womentothefore #IWD2026

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04

March, 2026

Text: Pedro Andrade
Photos: Alesander Peña

Curated by In&OutJazz Magazine
Director: Bega Villalobos

Sara Lilu: Voice, Intuition and the Future of European Jazz
In and Out Jazz Magazine/ #IWD2026 | WomenToTheForce | A new voice in European jazz

Voice, Intuition and the Future of European Jazz

At a historical moment in which jazz expands beyond the limits of its own semantics, Sara Lilu emerges as a voice that does not seek closed answers, but rather honest questions. Singer, composer, arranger, and vocal explorer, her work inhabits a fertile territory where intuition coexists with knowledge, and where song opens itself to improvisation as a form of living thought.

Her debut solo album, do we belong in confusion?, is not presented as a statement of certainties, but as a sensitive map of a life process: a collection of sounds, doubts, and discoveries born between late adolescence and early adulthood. Within it, the studio becomes an instrument, the voice a laboratory, and humor a philosophical tool for inhabiting uncertainty.

Far from labels, her music enters into dialogue with the legacy of jazz, contemporary song, and the hybrid aesthetics of the present, drawing nourishment from tradition as much as from an attentive listening to today’s world. For Sara Lilu, composing means observing how an idea takes shape on its own; improvising, a way of refining listening; and creating, a collective act sustained by trust and exchange.

In this interview, the artist reflects on confusion as a space of freedom, intuition as a form of knowledge, and the urgent need to protect the human in a time accelerated by technology. Her voice does not demand the spotlight, it offers itself as a meeting place. Perhaps that is where its strength lies.

In&Out Jazz Magazine: You have just released do we belong in confusion?, your first solo album. What does this record represent in your personal and artistic journey?

Sara Lilu: It’s basically a picture of the sounds I had in me during a period of time, more specifically during my late teens and early twenties. I made a compilation of the songs I liked the most from my original repertoire, arranged them, gave them names and materialized them in this album. I think experimenting with sound is one of my main drives in life, so I took the studio for an instrument and learned a lot during the process. This album also gave me an idea of the amount of work there really is behind a music production, and it’s helped me to form an idea of what kind of artist that I want to be.

The title poses an open, almost existential question. Where does it come from, and why did you feel the need to express it musically?

All my life I’ve felt this need for answers. Not just rational responses to the world that surrounds me, but also more spiritual ones. I took this title from one of the songs in the album. I made that song, taking inspiration from “Human Behavior” by Björk. I think my way of experiencing life has a lot to do with humor, which helps me a lot not to get too caught up in my own stuff. Even though I know it’s a long title and it might come across as pretentious, for me it’s like a little joke. Everyone wants certainties, answers (me included) but I’ve found that accepting confusion and laughing about yourself is also liberating.

The repertoire is almost entirely original. How does your compositional process usually begin: does it start from the voice, the text, harmony, or an overall concept?

It depends. Some songs come all at once, harmony, melody and text like a big waterfall from my body into sound. But that’s not the common case. In general, I’ll start by improvising, whether from the voice or with an instrument (mostly piano or guitar), and all of a sudden I’m getting tangled in an idea. The inner feeling is that a song has a life of its own, and I’m just observing and helping it to grow however it wants to. Sometimes this process takes months. Maybe there’s different pathways and I’m not sure of which direction to turn to. But eventually, an idea comes and takes over. I think part of it comes from the unconscious; sometimes I don’t know where the lyrics come from until one day I’m like “ah, I was processing this or that emotion or thought”. Other times I have somebody in mind when I write. I also like to write lyrics to existing songs, like I did with McCoy Tyner’s “Search for Peace” (in Spanish, “Volverte a Ver”) or Sam Rivers’ “Beatrice” in my previous duo album with guitarist Alesander Peña (My Blue Heaven, 2024). I like taking pre-existing melodies that I love and trying to figure out the words that may be in them, like a sort of puzzle.

Jazz, improvised music, song form and contemporary textures coexist throughout the album. Are you trying to break down labels, or do you simply work outside of them?

The truth is, I haven’t tried very hard to label this music. Through the process of arranging and mixing, as it’s a more rational task for me than composing, I came to realize more about my references. While looking for the exact sounds I heard in my head, I started finding songs that already had those sounds in them. Not so much for the composition itself, but more for its dressing (instrumentation, mix/effects). That’s how I learned that for example, some of my main references for sound are Screaming Headless Torsos, Erykah Badu or Beck. I love how some of their albums sound. Then, I guess my answer to your question would be that I simply work outside of them.

What role do arrangement and collective writing play in your music? How is the dialogue with the musicians involved in the album built?

I absolutely admire the musicians I’ve worked with on this album. When trying out a new song with one of my bands, most of the time I leave plenty of space for individual interpretation of their parts. After all, they know their instruments better than I do. When it comes to the song itself (harmony, melody, structure) I usually have my ideas pretty clear, but for choosing specific sounds or ways to play a bassline, chords or drum patterns, I rely on my musicians. The music is fed by everyone’s creativity, so I always learn something new and this makes me feel very full. It’s also part of my love for jazz and improvised music, where interplay is basic.

Beyond being a singer, you are also an arranger, composer and vocal explorer. How do you understand the voice within your creative universe?

The voice is my main vehicle of expression. I’m in love with this instrument, as it never ceases to amaze and liberate me. Even when I’m in those moments of the learning/creative process where I’m uncomfortable with my own sound, I still feel lucky to have chosen it as my main field of investigation.

In a context strongly shaped by technique and academic training, what place does intuition occupy in your creative process?

David Lynch once said that intuition is a thinking feeling, and this completely resonates with me. It seems to me that intuition and curiosity walk hand in hand in the creative process. In my case, I’ve realized that naming the things that I’m doing naturally, gives me a certain power to understand where I’ve stepped before; just as learning the theory gives me the power to widen my ears and hear the new possibilities that may be offered to me. So, for me, intuition is most important, but also the understanding and the use of theoretical knowledge.

You have studied and worked in different European contexts and maintain an active dialogue with scenes such as the Portuguese one. What do you think defines today’s new generation of European jazz, and how does your music engage with it?

It’s a complex question, because I don’t think there’s a single European jazz scene anymore. There are many different scenes happening simultaneously across the continent, and they’re all very rich. In cities like Barcelona or Lisbon, for example, you can find some of the finest bebop players I’ve heard, as well as very diverse and beautiful free improvisation scenes. I’d need to travel more to really understand what’s happening in other countries, but from what I’ve heard, Northern Europe tends to lean more towards contemporary classical music merged with jazz language and sound, while in places like Germany and Belgium there seems to be a stronger interest in electronics and hybrid formats. Also I think the word “jazz” has expanded a lot, and I’m not sure what it means anymore. There’s also the term “BLAM” (Black American Music), which for me offers a broader perspective on the roots of this music. In that sense, I think my music engages with my generation through both respect for what was created in past decades and the need to fearlessly combine one’s own individual influences.

In March 2025 you received the Best Soloist Award at the European Young Artists’ Jazz Award Burghausen. What did this recognition mean to you at this stage of your career?

To be a singer and receive this kind of recognition has made me understand better how people see and hear me. I love singing songs, but I’m also an improviser and I’m glad this is welcomed by the audience.

Alongside your solo career, you are involved in projects of very different genres and sonic sensibilities, such as Veus Lliures, your duo with Alesander Peña, and the trio Kimera. What creative need does each of these projects fulfil?

Veus Lliures is a project led by Celeste Alías. There’s 13 women in the group, and we’ve been investigating the human voice related to pure sound, collective free improvisation and conducting with signs for the past five years. Being able to share music with these wonderful people has made me learn a lot about the voice, and it’s also widened my ears as listening is most important in an improvisational situation (especially with so many people). Sander and I formed this duo back in 2019, just before the pandemic. Playing with somebody so consistently through the years makes you feel really confident, because you get to know each other’s sound so well, that music becomes a conversation with your best friend. Sander’s playing matches my singing perfectly, as we follow each other’s ideas in a way that’s really rare to find. It’s been almost a year since I started playing with Dani Artetxe (guitarist) and Dani Pimen (drummer). Our trio is basically a mix of progressive rock, post-punk, free improvisation and (sometimes) jazz. We’re finishing a bunch of original songs now, and I’m very excited because I get to be my weirdest, funniest, most extravagant self with them.

How do you imagine the evolution of your music and projects in the coming years?

Honestly, I have no idea. I only know I’m doing well now, because I’m currently working on music that’s got me thrilled, and playing with people I admire profoundly. I trust life to bring me as much music, experiences and joy as I’m open to receive.

In a context dominated by speed, digital platforms and artificial intelligence, what do you think we need to protect as artists?

I think I’m still trying to understand the direction things are taking in this regard. The logical thing for me would be to get the AI to do the work nobody wants to do, not to steal what brings us humans purpose and drive in life. I think technological progress is fantastic, but I’m afraid the people who decide how that technology is used are not always aligned with human and artistic values and rights. It makes me sad to see the direction our world may be taking in the upcoming years, so the only thing I can think of as an artist is to get together more and keep feeding the independent artistic communities that already exist. Humans will always be hungry for the real stuff, and that’s only created by other humans.

For someone listening to do we belong in confusion? for the first time, what would you like them to feel or take away from the experience?

Just a girl making some noises and sharing her passion for sound with some badass musicians onboard.

If you had to define this moment in your life with a single word, what would it be?

Pre-blossom.

Este artículo se publica simultáneamente en las siguientes revistas europeas, en el marco de “Milestones”, una operación para destacar a las jóvenes músicas de jazz y blues : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) y Donos Kulturalny (PL).

This article is co-published simultaneously in the following European magazines, as part of « Milestones » an operation to highlight young jazz and blues female musicians : Citizen Jazz (FR), JazzMania (BE), Jazz’halo (BE), Meloport (UA), UK Jazz News (UK), Jazz-Fun (DE), In&Out Jazz (ES) and Donos Kulturalny (PL).

#Womentothefore #IWD2026

Hery Paz

Interview

28

February, 2026

By: Khagan Aslanov

Photos: Minima.musicarte

If it’s true that a creative soul must always look for new apertures, then Cuban-born, NY-based saxophonist Hery Paz embodies the paragon representation of what an artist should be – a restless and tireless figure, who is always in pursuit of a fresh vision. No work of his sounds like the one before it, and with every note, he carries the listener into a deep dark forest of tone, mood and utmost spontaneity. What has always set Paz apart from many of his contemporaries as well, was how true his pursuit feels. Beyond the idea of a professional musician, who may approach things at least partially from a transactional point of view, Paz’ creations often feel like personal exercises in making something beautiful as an end in and of itself.

Now, in the wake of his excellent album from last year, the all-encompassing multimedia experience of Fisuras, In&OutJazz sat down with the brilliant composer and improviser, to try and procure at least a partial portrait of how he came to become one of the most exciting and exploratory forces within the avant-garde.

In&OutJAZZ Magazine: I didn’t realize that your very first instrument was the guitar.

Hery Paz: My father is a traditional musician. This is what he did for a living. My relationship with music started when I was really young. There was music at home, my father’s friends would be over. My first instrument at home was the guitar. My dad tried to give me lessons, and that did not work out. We realized early on that if I was going to be a musician, I needed another teacher, not my father. It didn’t translate very well between the two of us. But I had my guitar, which was a Soviet guitar. They were pretty terrible guitars, they were travelling guitars, and you could take the neck apart. At some point, a really good luthier in my hometown put a cedar top to the guitar and fixed the arm in such a way that it was way better. I heard my father give lesson, and I was always trying to figure songs out on my own. By the time I was nine, I told my dad, listen, I want to do this seriously.

And then I joined the conservatory on classical clarinet, and then flute the next year. So, this is how my relationship with the woodwinds started. I wanted to play trumpet, but my dad didn’t allow me. He was a trumpet player, and he told me – I’m not going to do this to you. One day in the future, you’re going to agree with me that it’s not the easiest of instruments.

So, then I started playing clarinet and flute, and did six years of conservatory in Cuba, before I migrated over to the U.S. My mother won a visa lottery. And with the help of some friends from abroad, they put the money together to get us out of the island. And then I got to the U.S. in 2001.

Clarinet and flute were still my bread and butter for a while, until in college, a professor gave me a saxophone. And that changed my life. And my trajectory became a jazz one. The saxophone came into my life when I was 21 years old, and it came to stay.

So when did you shift from traditional jazz modalities into free improvisation and the avant-garde?

I’ve always been an improviser within the context that I lived. My grandfather was a bit of a mechanical engineer and inventor, and he was an improviser as well, even though he was not a musician.

But I think it’s more of an attitude and a way of living, whether it includes the arts or not.

Improvisation-wise, part of how I was exposed to it early on had to do with Cuban music, where trumpet, trombone, flute and tres players improvise within the context of the music. It was always there. And I always had a knack for it. And I got into the conservatory and the first real argument about improvisation that I had was the fact that I wanted to play my own cadenzas (laughs).

Also, a lot of classical repertoire in Cuba that I had access to, especially on the flute, was Bach. And Baroque music always had space for improvisation, all these themes with different variations. The relationship, I think, is a lot closer to what jazz is. I think that’s also how my harmonic ear started developing.

When did you start moving away from academic structures and integrating yourself into New York’s playing scene?

I’ve been in New York now for 11 years. After I graduated. I did a Master’s Program at the New England Conservatory in Boston. I had the chance to study with some amazing people. And it’s the only program that has a contemporary improvisation department, apart from a jazz department. So you might get some great sitar player from the Middle East, and then you end up in an ensemble playing improvised music in whatever context you could put together. It was very eclectic.

And by the time I got there, I was ready to stretch and explore. So that got me started in understanding where I wanted to be and what I wanted to pursue musically. And by the time I got to New York, it all consolidated here in the scene.

The first year in New York is a little disorienting. You’re checking everything out. You’re doing all sorts of sessions.

But then there’s a certain gravity where things start to align. You start to meet people that have similar ways to looking at music. And you start gravitating towards those people and playing with them.

You also represent a through-line between the mainstream and the avant-garde. You’re playing flute on Broadway with the Buena Vista Social Club musical.

It is interesting how these things happen. The musical was partly put together by one of the original members of Buena Vista, Juan de Marcos González. So when I got the call, I thought it was a prank. I even hung up on him at first (laughs).

I mean, I play improvised music. Almost nobody in New York knew that I was a flute player. Some of my own things, but as a sideman, I didn’t play flute with anybody in New York. But González got in touch with enough Cuban saxophone players to know that the flute and clarinet parts in the show were difficult. And everyone told him that if you need someone to play flute the way that you need it, there’s a guy in New York that you should call. And that’s how I got the call. Funny enough, he had checked all the videos of me playing free music. And that was that!

I actually went on tour with him and the Afro-Cuban All-Star Band to SF Jazz and we played a stint there. I played mostly flute, soprano and tenor with him. It was a really nice way of coming back to my roots.

The musical also allows you to play the way that you play, because they know that the background that I have is within the context of what I play. And there was no flute on the original record, so I got to make my own blueprint as well. Every night, I take a different solo on that tune, and I take it as far as I like.

I wanted to ask you about Fred Hersch, because I know you have a special relationship.

Fred used to teach at New England Conservatory. That’s how I met him. He’d come to do this masterclass, and usually the people signing up for his masterclass are piano players. But I said – I want to play for Fred, and I want to play with a saxophone trio, not piano.

We connected right away. He had great things to say. And he was helpful and very giving. I ended up playing an ensemble of his music at some point. And I connected to some albums of his, he’d made a record with Ralph Alessi and Tony Malaby. It was one of the first times I’d ever heard Tony playing. Tony then also became an influential figure.

I love Fred’s music, and I have loved always Fred’s approach to playing. He is always open to you being different, and bringing non-traditional ideas into playing.

I came to him once, and told him that it’s really hard for me to play Monk’s music on the saxophone. And Fred was the first person to tell me about Steve Lacy, and how he codified how to play Monk on a saxophone. And we had a long conversation about it and coming to the fact Fred taught at that university, at NEC, at the New England Conservatory for a very long time.

Another pillar for me from the school was Joe Morris. He taught for a long time, and he’d recruited me while playing in the Bob Moses Ensemble. We have had a working relationship together since. I’ve recorded albums with Joe, I’ve played with Joe and I’m always learning from Joe. He’s a true improviser, an American original.

But through all these teachers and influences, you managed to develop your own voice. When I listen to your music, I know it’s you. You don’t sound like Ornette or Ayler, you sound like Hery Paz.

Thank you. I think getting to the school as an older person than most students helped with it. I had real focus and my own ideas of how to carve my path. I also had to get as far back from my roots, in order to return to them with a completely different view.

You mentioned that your father is a painter as well. And on Fisuras, you deployed everything – music, poetry, visuals. You walk this postmodern path very well. Which is a very difficult thing to do, and most artists who pursue several disciplines at once end up being mediocre in all of them.

The way I can put it is this – my father is a painter and a musician, so I never questioned the idea that you could do all these things, and they could complement each other in some ways. But, verbally at least, my grandfather was more inspirational. He was a great mind. My grandfather was an inventor, who studied electrical engineering late in life. He made tube amplifiers, guitar strings, bass strings. And he had this little shop in the back of his house, where we lived, so I got to spend a lot of time with him. I was the only grandkid that was allowed to spend time in his shop. And he would give me materials to make my own toys, and we had long conversations, and for many years, I was sort of like his assistant at the shop.

He taught me something early on that to this day is of utmost importance to me. He said that modern society is built around the idea of the specialist, about having a certain amount of hours dedicated to one craft, and being extremely good at it, but being ignorant of everything else. But he also said that, in some ways, this is a way for society to control you as well.

So he told me, never have any hobbies. Do whatever you do, but do it seriously. And so I always think of the influence one thing has on the other.

Thank you, Hery! As a closer, give us your favourite saxophonists. No order, as an instinct, the first that come to mind.

One of the most influential figures in my life for the past six years has been Evan Parker. What he has developed over time is beautiful.

I’ll also name Roscoe Mitchell and Charles Gayle. And then Albert Ayler and Dexter Gordon. Gordon playing ballads will always keep me up at night.

And of course, I could never live without John Coltrane. Interstellar Space will always be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.