Occhi Interview: Adonis Rose on Jazz Peccioli, New Orleans Roots, and What’s Next

What’s the earliest memory you have of New Orleans shaping your ears, before you even knew you were “studying” music?  How does that memory still show up in your phrasing today?

Some of my earliest memories of New Orleans music go back to when I was four or five years old. New Orleans is unlike any other city in the world, especially at that time. I remember hearing brass bands performing at second lines, parades, funerals, and neighborhood parties, music in church every Sunday, and neighborhood bands rehearsing or performing on the porches and courts of the St. Bernard Housing Development, where I grew up. Music was always present and became a natural part of my upbringing.

My father is a musician, so my brother and I spent a lot of time helping him carry and set up his drum kit for performances at neighborhood clubs and events. Looking back, those moments were just as educational as any formal lesson I would later receive. Before I ever understood rhythm, harmony, or improvisation, I was absorbing the feeling of New Orleans music, the way it breathes, swings, celebrates, and comforts people during every stage of life.

That foundation still shapes the way I play today. I don’t think first about technical perfection. I think about storytelling, groove, and making people feel something. The phrasing, pulse, and emotional honesty that define my playing all trace back to those early experiences growing up in New Orleans.

In your early years as a musician, who gave you the kind of mentorship that didn’t just teach you what to play, but challenged how you think, listen, and lead?

Early on, my biggest influences were my father and my uncle, who is a bassist. My father always encouraged me to be confident, think for myself, and embrace what made me unique rather than trying to sound like someone else. He believed that being a musician wasn’t just about developing talent. It was about developing character.

As the oldest of my brothers and sisters, I was also taught to lead from a young age. That responsibility shaped the way I approached not only music but life. It taught me that leadership requires patience, careful thought, listening more than speaking, and being willing to make difficult decisions when necessary. Those lessons became just as valuable in my career as learning rudiments or playing gigs.

Looking back, I realize they weren’t simply teaching me how to become a better musician. They were preparing me to become a leader, someone who could build organizations, mentor younger artists, and create opportunities for others. Those early lessons continue to guide the way I approach every musical and business decision I make today.

New Orleans can be both a blessing and a heavy expectation for a jazz artist. When did you first feel the weight of representing a lineage, and how did you stop that weight from turning into imitation?

That’s a great question. Being from New Orleans is a blessing, but it also comes with tremendous expectations.

I remember when I was a teenager attending the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts (NOCCA), I told my father and my uncle that I wanted to become a professional musician. They each sat me down separately and gave me essentially the same advice. They told me that if I was serious about pursuing music as a career, then I had to take it seriously. Most importantly, they told me that I could never embarrass the family name. That conversation stayed with me and became one of the guiding principles of my career.

I also learned invaluable lessons from the elder musicians on the bandstand. In New Orleans, the bandstand is sacred. The older generation didn’t just teach through words. They taught by hiring young musicians, expecting excellence, and holding us accountable every night. There was an unspoken understanding that if you were given the opportunity, you had to earn your place and honor the tradition.

I first truly felt the weight of representing New Orleans when I joined Nicholas Payton’s band in 1994. We were part of what became known as the “Young Lions” movement alongside artists like Roy Hargrove, Joshua Redman, Christian McBride, and many others. But we were the only young band representing New Orleans. In many ways, we were viewed as competition, and we were often criticized by musicians in New York because of our confidence, our sound, and where we came from. Looking back, that criticism only pushed us to work harder and become better musicians. Carrying the New Orleans tradition became both an honor and a responsibility.

The beautiful thing about New Orleans is that we’re not taught to imitate. Our music and culture are so deeply rooted that they naturally become part of who we are. Rather than trying to sound like someone else, we learn to understand the tradition, respect it, and then contribute our own voice. That’s how the lineage stays alive. It evolves without losing its identity.

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Every artist I’ve had the privilege of working with brought different qualities as leaders, musicians, and creative thinkers. Each had a profound impact on me in different ways.

Nicholas Payton was my peer, but he taught me an incredible amount about music. I believe I developed the most as a drummer and musician during the ten years I spent in his band. We weren’t just performing together. We were exploring, creating, and developing a unique band sound. Nicholas is one of the greatest musicians in the world, and he approaches music with an uncompromising level of seriousness. Those years challenged me to raise my musical standards every day and shaped me during one of the most important periods of my artistic development.

If I had to identify the person who most influenced me as a leader and ambassador for jazz, however, it would be Wynton Marsalis. Over the years, I had the opportunity to work with him in small groups, perform with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, and benefit from his mentorship. At the time, I didn’t fully realize how much I was learning beyond the music itself. As my own career evolved into leadership roles, I found myself drawing on lessons I had absorbed simply by watching how he approached the responsibility of protecting, presenting, and advocating for this music.

There is no musician alive who has dedicated more of his life to serving jazz than Wynton Marsalis. He taught me that serving the music means thinking beyond yourself. It’s about preserving a legacy, maintaining the highest artistic standards, educating the next generation, and understanding that your responsibility extends far beyond the bandstand.

To rise to that level required sacrifice. It meant countless hours of preparation, constantly challenging myself, accepting criticism, and putting the music ahead of my own ego. Looking back, those lessons have become just as valuable in leading organizations and building cultural partnerships as they have been in my life as a drummer.

With more than fifty recordings to your credit, what do you believe recordings can capture that live performance can’t—and what do recordings always fail to capture, no matter how good the take is?

Recordings give us the opportunity to document our music as close to perfection as possible. In the studio, we can record as many takes as necessary to achieve the sound, feel, and performance we’re striving for. We can fix mistakes, make edits, and refine every detail until we’re satisfied with the final product. A great recording becomes a lasting document of that musical moment.

What recordings can never fully capture, however, is the energy that exists between the musicians and a live audience. I remember watching NFL games during the pandemic with empty stadiums. As a longtime New Orleans Saints season ticket holder, it was one of the strangest experiences I’ve ever had. The games looked the same, but they didn’t feel the same. The energy was missing.

Music is no different. An audience plays an important role in shaping the direction of a performance. Their reactions influence the musicians, and the musicians respond in return. That exchange creates something that can’t be rehearsed or recreated in a studio.

Live performances happen in real time. There are no second takes, no edits, and no opportunity to fix mistakes. Ironically, that’s exactly what makes them so special. They create space for spontaneity, intuition, risk-taking, and moments of genuine magic that often happen only once. As musicians, we spend countless hours preparing so that, when those unexpected moments arrive, we’re free enough to embrace them. That’s something no recording, no matter how well produced, can completely capture.

Winning a Grammy is a tremendous accomplishment. To be recognized by your peers and by the recording industry is certainly a milestone in any artist’s career. But for me, it was never the destination. It was simply confirmation that the work we were doing with the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra was meaningful.

I never felt like I had anything to prove to the world. If anything, I wanted to continue proving to myself that we could keep growing creatively without losing sight of who we are. As artists, we should always strive to create projects that reflect where we are in our lives and in our times. That naturally influences what we create next.

As the leader of the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra, I have always remained committed to our New Orleans roots. I have never wanted to compromise the integrity of our sound or our mission. Our responsibility is to honor the musicians who came before us while continuing to create new music, new arrangements, and new artistic ideas that keep the tradition alive. A tradition only survives if each generation contributes something meaningful to it.

To me, the Grammy wasn’t the end of the story. It was motivation to continue building a body of work that celebrates New Orleans while ensuring that our music remains relevant, evolving, and connected to future generations.

One of the first things I learned after becoming Artistic Director of the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra was that leading with vision doesn’t mean leading alone. Vision requires listening to others, gathering different perspectives, and surrounding yourself with people who will challenge your thinking. But ultimately, there are moments when a leader has to make difficult decisions that won’t satisfy everyone.

There were several uncomfortable decisions early on, but the most significant was deciding to keep the organization independent rather than partnering with a larger institution simply to survive.

Shortly after I became Artistic Director, we completed a comprehensive strategic plan that outlined three possible paths for the future of the organization. One option was to dissolve the nonprofit and close the Jazz Market. Another was to retain a fiscal agent and potentially become part of a larger organization. The third option was to remain independent, rebuild the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra, and restore its reputation as a world-class cultural institution.

For me, there was never really a question. If I was going to remain Artistic Director, we had to choose the third path. It wasn’t the easiest or the safest option, but I believed it was the right one. The New Orleans Jazz Orchestra had already established its own identity and legacy, and I felt a responsibility to preserve that while building something even stronger.

Looking back, that decision shaped everything that followed. It forced us to think creatively, build new partnerships, strengthen our programming, and recommit ourselves to serving New Orleans and the global jazz community on our own terms. Sometimes leadership isn’t about choosing the easiest path. It’s about having the conviction to pursue the one you believe will have the greatest long-term impact.

You’ve helped build educational and community programs and partnerships through the Jazz Market. What’s a truth you’ve learned about community work that most people romanticize—and how has that truth changed your approach as an educator?

One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned is that leading a nonprofit organization means being a servant to your community. These are not positions of glory. They require an enormous amount of time, hard work, sacrifice, and an unwavering belief that you can inspire positive change in the community where you live and work.

I think people sometimes romanticize community work without realizing how much responsibility comes with it. It’s not about putting on great events or creating programs for the sake of visibility. It’s about showing up consistently, listening to the needs of the people you’re trying to serve, and earning their trust over time. Real community impact isn’t measured in a single concert or initiative. It’s measured over years of commitment.

Throughout my career, I’ve dedicated myself to educating people through music while emphasizing the importance of becoming responsible, compassionate, and productive citizens. Music teaches discipline, teamwork, respect, communication, and perseverance. Those lessons extend far beyond the stage.

I never forget that I was once a young musician with big dreams, hoping to make a meaningful contribution to my city. I benefited from mentors who believed in me and invested their time in my growth. Today, I see it as my responsibility to do the same for the next generation. If the work we’re doing inspires one young person to believe in themselves and give back to their community, then we’re doing something much bigger than teaching music. We’re helping shape future leaders.

When I first had the idea to reimagine the music of Allen Toussaint, my instinct was to collaborate with artists who had a genuine connection to both Allen and the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra. That led me to invite fellow New Orleanians Phillip Manuel and Dee Dee Bridgewater, who lives in New Orleans and has toured and recorded with the orchestra. I also turned to arrangers within the band to create fresh interpretations of Allen’s timeless music while remaining faithful to the spirit and integrity of his original compositions.

For me, honoring Allen Toussaint wasn’t about reproducing the recordings note for note. It was about understanding what made his music so timeless in the first place. Great music should continue to evolve. Our goal was to breathe new life into these songs through contemporary orchestral arrangements while preserving the melodies, storytelling, and unmistakable New Orleans soul that made them classics.

Most importantly, I wanted to make sure this project had the blessing of Allen’s family. Before we recorded a single note, I reached out to them for permission and kept them involved throughout the entire process. They heard the project before its release and graciously gave it their approval. That meant a great deal to me because it affirmed that we had honored Allen’s legacy in the right way.

I want to extend my heartfelt thanks to Allison and Reggie Toussaint for their trust, encouragement, and support throughout the project. Their involvement made this recording even more meaningful.

Jazz Peccioli is much more than a project to me. It is very close to my heart. Our inaugural festival was everything we imagined it could be and so much more. It accomplished exactly what we hoped it would: a true twinning of two remarkable communities through music, culture, and friendship.

The project began through an introduction to Mayor Renzo Macelloni by a mutual acquaintance. Mayor Macelloni has a deep appreciation for New Orleans and expressed an interest in creating a festival in Peccioli that celebrated the music, culture, and spirit of our city. As our conversations evolved, it became clear that we shared a much bigger vision.

I suggested that before we built a festival, we should build a relationship. That led to the creation of the official Sister City Agreement between New Orleans and Peccioli. Once that historic partnership was established, we formalized our working relationship and began planning the inaugural Jazz Peccioli Festival together.

To me, Jazz Peccioli is far more than a music festival. It is a platform for cultural exchange and international collaboration. It creates opportunities for educational programs, artistic partnerships, tourism, business development, and lasting friendships, all through the cross-pollination of two unique cultures. New Orleans and Peccioli may be separated by thousands of miles, but they share a deep appreciation for community, creativity, and the power of music to bring people together.

Seeing that vision become a reality during the inaugural festival was one of the most meaningful moments of my career. It reminded me that music can do far more than entertain. It can build bridges between people, preserve cultural traditions, and create relationships that will continue to grow for generations to come.

Jazz Peccioli creates a cultural bridge between New Orleans and a Tuscan hilltop town. What are you most determined to translate faithfully from New Orleans, and what are you intentionally willing to let evolve in a new context?

Jazz Peccioli is a cultural bridge between our two communities, and one of my greatest hopes is that it demonstrates our mutual commitment to investing in one another. From the very beginning, we wanted this relationship to be balanced. Just as the people of Peccioli have embraced New Orleans with open arms, we are equally committed to embracing Peccioli and helping this partnership flourish for years to come.

What I am most determined to translate faithfully from New Orleans is our spirit of community. Music in New Orleans has never been just entertainment. It brings people together, preserves history, celebrates life’s milestones, and creates a sense of belonging. That spirit is something I never want to lose.

At the same time, I don’t believe cultural exchange should be one-sided. I want this partnership to evolve naturally as we learn from one another. The beauty of Sister Cities is that each community contributes something unique, and together they create experiences that neither could have achieved alone.

My hope is that we continue building on the foundation we’ve established and eventually bring the people, students, artists, and cultural offerings of Peccioli to New Orleans. I want the exchange to move in both directions so that future generations in both communities have the opportunity to learn from one another, build lasting friendships, and discover how much they truly have in common.

I believe that, over time, our work as Sister Cities and through Jazz Peccioli will evolve in ways we can’t yet imagine. If we remain committed to the relationship, I think the possibilities are limitless.

At this point in my life, it’s important that my musicianship, artistry, compositions, and leadership are all reflected in the projects I choose to pursue. Every recording, festival, educational initiative, and cultural partnership should represent where I am today while honoring the experiences that have shaped me throughout my career.

As a leader, I recently founded the New Orleans Jazz Institute, a nonprofit organization that represents the continuation of my work as an artistic director, educator, and cultural ambassador. Through the Institute, I’m creating opportunities for young musicians, expanding international exchanges, and strengthening the connection between New Orleans and communities around the world. I see it as an opportunity to invest in the next generation while ensuring that our city’s musical traditions continue to grow.

Later this year, I’ll release Live at Jazz Ascona on Cold Plunge Records, which will be the first official live recording from the festival, where I also serve as Co-Artistic Director. Early next year, I’ll release my first recording featuring an entire program of original compositions. The project, Sacred Spaces, was written as a jazz ballet and represents a new chapter in my work as a composer.

At this stage of my career, I’m really focused on building a meaningful body of work while continuing to grow as a composer, festival director, and cultural leader. Those are the areas where I feel I have the greatest opportunity to explore, improve, and make a lasting contribution. If I can continue creating meaningful music, developing opportunities for the next generation, and building cultural bridges through jazz, I’ll feel that I’ve spent this season of my life pursuing the things that matter most.