Known for his relentless creativity and boundary-defying artistry, saxophonist Timo Vollbrecht has built a reputation as a true phenomenon in the jazz world. Originally from Berlin, Timo made the bold move to New York 15 years ago, immersing himself in the city’s vibrant scene and honing his distinctive musical voice. Today, he leads the Jazz Program at Brown University, balancing a thriving academic career with an impressive array of genre-spanning projects. For his latest venture, Timo Vollbrecht – Bremen New York, he brings together a stellar international lineup—Ralph Alessi (trumpet), Chris Tordini (bass), Thomas Strønen (drums), and Elias Stemeseder (piano)—bridging the musical worlds of Bremen and New York. We caught up with Timo to talk about this exciting project, his journey, and what drives his continued evolution as an artist.
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Timo, thank you for agreeing to speak with us. Fifteen years ago, you left Berlin for New York to “make your way on the scene.” What was the moment in NYC when you felt your voice click into place? Moreover, was there a hard lesson that almost derailed you before that breakthrough?
I don’t think there was that one moment in finding my voice. Developing your sound as an artist is a long-term process, and I keep evolving. However, there are two aspects that I deem especially important: One is community-building, meaning connecting with other musicians, going to their shows, and playing as much as you can with different artists, continually putting yourself in a variety of different musical situations; for example, through jam sessions and being involved in other artists’ projects. The other thing, for me, was starting my own band. Writing original music, working on it together with my peers, and recording and performing it has been invaluable for my path forward. If you need me to pin it down, though, I think that with my debut album, Fly Magic in 2016, my fledgling “voice” began to click.
There were many hard lessons in the past, ranging from the reality check of what it’s like to work as a jazz musician in New York and occasionally playing for 3 people at a venue, to failing on a tune at a public session or on a gig. But none of this derailed my career, I’d say. As cliché as it sounds, these are often opportunities for growth and a reminder of what this is all for, namely, the music.
You straddle performer, composer, scholar, and educator—now directing the Jazz Program at Brown. How does teaching at an Ivy League institution refine (or challenge) your improvisational risk‑taking on stage?
This is an interesting question. On one hand, having an academic home provides a certain kind of stability that allows you to take musical risks. You have something to fall back on if you “fail” on stage. On the other hand, I have observed in others how juggling a demanding job with your life as a practitioner can lead to a lack of progress as an artist, or even inactivity. That is why it is crucial for me not to get “comfortable” and to keep challenging myself day in and day out. I am positive that maintaining an active performance career can only benefit my teaching. Furthermore, Brown is an ideal place for me because my work there is extremely creative and interdisciplinary, allowing me to bundle my passions as a performer, composer, scholar, and educator. Right now, I run the Brown Jazz Band (collaborating with Theo Bleckmann this fall), teach a listening seminar on jazz history from 1970 to the present, write a book about ECM-producer Manfred Eicher, perform with fellow faculty, and compose brand-new music inspired by merging Hanns Eisler songs with Kraftwerk-oriented soundscapes. It is honestly a dream-like scenario.
Mentors often shape how we listen. Which mentors, formal or informal, changed your time feel, harmonic language, or ensemble empathy, and what single piece of advice still echoes in your ear?
Again, what a refined question. This makes me think of when I was a student in college in Berlin, and drummer Jim Black gave a masterclass. I remember to this day how he said that, “your biggest mentors are your closest peers.” And he was right, I think I learned most from playing with my friends: Theo Bleckmann, Luke Marantz, Keisuke Matsuno, and others. Living in New York, the calibre of players is so high that you can be really pushed forward. Aside from that, Sonny Rollins made me fall in love with the tenor saxophone, Lester Young and Stan Getz inspired my approach to tone, and Wayne Shorter is a hero when it comes to my overall approach to music. I developed my time feel through transcriptions, but especially through playing with great rhythm sections over the years. Harmonically, I think that Argentinian composer Guillermo Klein’s music opened my ears wide – the way he uses parallel harmony. He is also someone who told me to compose without any instrument, simply relying on my ear. The other one here is my former teacher and mentor, Mark Turner, who showed me how to voice-lead on the saxophone. In terms of ensemble empathy, I listened closely to saxophonist Chris Speed and to how he integrates himself inside a band rather than flying above it.
Your PhD explored a topic “that doesn’t just fall into someone’s lap.” How does your scholarly practice inform decisions like form length, motivic development, and pacing in a live quintet context?
This album, Bremen New York, is actually partly inspired by my scholarly work. For my doctoral thesis, I observed and analyzed ECM-producer Manfred Eicher’s creative process in the recording studio. Not only did this inspire me to make an all-acoustic album (after having done a lot of electro-acoustic sound-work, involving post-production, etc.). It also heightened my awareness of playing a room: In a luxuriously sounding concert space like the “Sendesaal” radio hall in Bremen, you can hear every nuance the ensemble is doing. You can play extremely quietly, and the audience hears every bit of it. Furthermore, a long reverberation in the room directly influences the time-feel, tempo choices, and musical decisions of a band. For instance, if you stop a note and the sound lingers on, your rest will be longer. All of this is audible on our new record.
You’ve moved between electro‑acoustic experiments (Fly Magic’s Givers & Takers) and a “classic” acoustic quintet. What criteria tell you a musical idea belongs to electricity and effects versus reeds, brass, and air?
As I just mentioned, it was partly the room and the particular concert occasion that led me to do an all-acoustic quintet record. Aside from that, I think that many ideas work both in an acoustic and in an electric setting, but they turn out differently. Simply compare Herbie Hancock’s different versions of Watermelon Man – same idea but a completely different outcome each time. I appreciate you mentioning the notion of “air,” though. I feel that an acoustic quintet, paired with the right room and performance or recording environment, bears so much potential for air – one of the most beautiful things in music.
Writing a book on Manfred Eicher suggests deep engagement with ECM’s aesthetics. What did you learn about space, resonance, and narrative arc from studying his productions that directly shaped Bremen New York?
Since I already talked about space and resonance, let me turn to the idea of a narrative arc. Manfred Eicher is a master in sequencing a record. While many artists choose their strongest piece as the opener (understandably, given today’s playlist-driven music industry and our short attention span listening conventions), Eicher conceives an album like a book that is to be read from cover to cover. You have an opening scene, then the plot evolves. There is a climax and a carefully crafted ending. Eicher often places the “jewel” in the middle. I approached the sequence of this album similarly. The jewel, to me, was the track “Spicy Moon,” with its energetic ending, which is followed by “Dark,” an introspective ballad; this one is enveloped by “Pau,” named after my son. The bass interlude idea is also something you hear a lot on ECM. The ending of my record is an improvised interplay between Alessi (trumpet) and me. The best way, I thought, to close the record but keep the ending open. I do want to stress, however, that my intention was not to copy ECM; I was simply inspired by my work with Manfred.
You’re a connector—assembling an international dream-band with Ralph Alessi, Chris Tordini, Thomas Strønen, and Elias Stemeseder. Tell us more about your choice of musicians and their abilities to teamplay
I always wanted to compose for two horns. Blending the warm tenor sax with the silvery-sounding trumpet is such a strong alliance. Ralph is one of the best trumpet players and improvisers on the planet. Since I used to take lessons with him at NYU, I knew him well, and since he was teaching in Switzerland at the time, he was also available. Elias Stemeseder is not only a longstanding artistic collaborator, but we were also roommates in Brooklyn for several years. Both Alessi and he are such creative players who can open everything up. Tordini is both one of the strongest and most lyrical bass players I know; he was such a great pick to provide a killer foundation for the band. And Thomas, I met through my ECM study. An extremely creative player with a unique sonic approach. His grand cassa drum, which complements his kit, gives an amazing low end to the ensemble. We had no rehearsals for this recording, and we didn’t need to. These are players who can immediately play forward if the material is right. We made music on the spur of the moment, and that’s what this was all about.
Titles like Brighton Blues, Spicy Moon, and New York Love Affair hint at place and mood. How do geography and memory function as compositional constraints rather than just color in your work?
Mood and color are extremely important in my compositions. I always try to build a world with sound, harmony, melody, and rhythm. I have studied so much music in my life, but when I sit down to write, I try to forget about that. It’s in there anyway and automatically comes to work, but I try to be guided by my ear and my own emotional response to the music. Whenever I get stuck, I can then turn on my analytical thinking and find a solution. The final song titles are actually not that important. They reflect places or moments in my life and are usually given after the fact. I feel like many listeners love to give meaning to the songs through their titles. It is something that gives them (us) something to hold onto when listening to the music. At the same time, I know many artists who don’t start their songs with a title. It is often the case that we work on music that is unnamed for a long period of time.
You’ve been described as someone who “leaves no stone unturned.” Is there an ambitious musical risk you’re currently avoiding? If so, what would it take to make that creative jump?
Ha, another great question! I always wanted to do a large ensemble project, which I never did, mainly due to a lack of resources and time. But it is back on my map since I started leading a big band at Brown. Moreover, I have recently been working closely with Grammy Award-winning composer and producer William Brittelle, working on an ambitious project that imagines an alternate reality with a made-up band. In the parallel world, we (artists) take on alter egos and produce music reacting to identities and contexts outside our normal (real) lives. This bears a lot of potential for stepping into music that is far outside my comfort zone for my upcoming projects. I am thinking while slightly scared…
Choosing a live album in 2025 is almost contrarian. Why did you commit to a single recording day, minimal rehearsal, and the Sendesaal’s uncompromising acoustics—and what freedoms did those constraints unlock?
Making a live album is not something many people do right now. But first, some of my favorite (and I would argue some of the best) jazz albums are live recordings – just think of Sonny Rollins’ Live at the Village Vanguard or Keith Jarrett’s Personal Mountains. Second, many records coming out are heavily produced. And while the recording and mixing studio bears amazing opportunities as an additional instrument, basically, I really yearned for more freedom and air on this album. Initially, we didn’t even conceive this as an album. I was invited to do a radio production for Radio Bremen and Berthold Records. The goal was a full concert radio broadcast. But the result turned out so phenomenal that we just had to release it. Partly because of the minimal rehearsal time and constraint to one afternoon and a concert at night, the music was as fresh as it could be.
You cite live touchstones like Joe Henderson’s Live at Slugs and Jarrett’s Personal Mountains. What should followers of your music listen for on Bremen New York, and what emotions do you want them to leave with?
The emotions are up to the listener. We all relate and connect to music differently depending on our background, lifeworld, and listening experience. That’s the beauty of it.
Where can our followers find out more about you?
You can follow me on Instagram, Bandcamp, YouTube, Spotify, Apple Music, etc., and sign up for my newsletter. Simply go to my website https://timo-vollbrecht.squarespace.com. I also have concerts coming up:
Oct 11 – Greenwich House Festival with Theo Bleckmann, New York
Oct 16 – Brown Jazz Band, Granoff Center, Providence, RI
Oct 19 – Brooklyn House Concert (email me for address)
Oct 23 – Owl Music Parlor, Album Release
Nov 1 – Cairo Jazz Festival, Biblioteca Alexandria (Egypt)
Nov 3 – Cairo Jazz Festival, SAKIA Cairo (Egypt)
Nov 14 – Brown Jazz Band & Theo Bleckmann, Lindeman PAC, Providence, RI
Dec 6 – IX, Brooklyn
March 2026 – European tour with Theo Bleckmann and Harmen Fraanje.
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