Neil Gray, one of my friends from music school, now lives in Kelowna. He returns to Vancouver to record or play shows about once a month. We decided to conduct this interview over Voice Memo. He’s a busy man.
We talked about his new record, the musicians he’s playing with, the challenges he faced, and what music means to him. I’ll put his answers in italics.
Okay, so I just got off a bunch of gigs, and I got a moment here to look at these questions.
I did say the man was busy.
—–Tell me about your project.
This project is called In the Streets, and basically it is a love letter to Vancouver.
All of the songs, in some way, are tied to Vancouver. Some of the songs are actual direct nods at places in Vancouver. Like one of the songs is called Frankie’s Ghost, which is about Frankie’s jazz club. Another tune is called Seymour Street Shuffle, which is about Tyrant Studios on Seymour Street, downtown Vancouver. Some of the songs are just about the heartbreak that I’ve had in Vancouver.
I love that you’ve written about Vancouver. Frankie’s Ghost has got me picturing Frankie’s Jazz club’s long room and classic tables. Seymour Street Shuffle pulls a memory of standing outside a strip club in the heart of downtown, faint jazz drifting from somewhere up above. When it comes to heartbreak in Vancouver, I’ve got plenty.
Who’s involved? There is kind of my longtime rhythm section of Bruno Hubert, the prolific piano player, one of the best piano players in Canada.
He’s taught me so much about writing music, composing music, and also about valuing yourself as an artist. He’s just such a leader in that sense. He’s always urging me to elevate my game and play in better places and to bring my music to the next level. Sometimes it’s like he knows more about my own music than I know about it.
He just finds these little things in the music that tell a deeper story about what I’m trying to say. It’s crazy.
The way you describe him, it’s clear that he’s not just a phenomenal pianist, but also a deeply intuitive collaborator who helps elevate your music and your artistry. That kind of connection, where someone knows your music better than you do, is incredibly rare and powerful. It’s almost like he’s a mirror for your own creative self, helping you see things you might otherwise overlook.
Bruno seems like he’s been a constant source of inspiration and encouragement, pushing you to not only grow as a musician but also to value your worth and potential. It’s amazing to have someone like that in your corner, always pushing you to reach new heights and reminding you of the bigger picture. You, Neil, are that person for me, so I can relate.
Conrad Good is on bass and he is just a staple top-shelf Vancouver jazz bass player. Probably the steadiest time in the game. He also has a cello background, so it’s not just his time, but it’s his tone. There’s just this detail, this richness in his playing that if I get out of the way of, it just breathes like crazy. So that’s amazing.
The front end of the band is Corey Weeds on tenor saxophone and returning on trumpet is Julian Borkowski. It’s all based out of Vancouver. It’s all Vancouver musicians.
Sounds like an absolutely killer lineup. I wrote a piece about Cory Weeds’ Jazz Club, the Cellar, just the other day. I understand you’re releasing the record on his label, Cellar Live.
—–What’s your favorite thing about it right now?
What’s my favorite thing about the record right now? My favorite thing about the record right now is the sound production. Like, having Sheldon do the engineering on the record makes the record sound like so many of my favorite Cellar Live records.
And that in itself is kind of mind-blowing to hear my compositions played by players that I love and then produced in a way, and mixed in a way, that reminds me of so many of these great Cellar Live records.
—–What’s your favorite thing you’ve done with the project ever?
My favorite thing that I’ve done with the project so far has been playing all the tunes at Frankie’s Jazz Club with this lineup.
Like they play hard bop, they live hard bop, they love hard bop. They can play all the types of licks, phrases, and ideas that really make you feel like you’re listening to a hard bop record. And all the guys on this record are hard bop heads. Like they all listen to that stuff. They can all play in that vein, and it makes it sound truly authentic, which was a new level for me.
That was a real step up to hear my music play by people who really believed in that kind of art inside the jazz idiom. And then to be thinking, okay, this is what I want to go with when I’m looking to have my compositions rendered into a performance, to really pick the guys who I want to work with based on their ability to play that specific genre.
This really captures the moment when a project comes to life in the most meaningful way. When the music not only sounds right, but feels right because it’s in the hands of players who live and breathe the idiom. Performing at Frankie’s with a band that’s so deeply immersed in hard bop must’ve been a powerful affirmation of your vision. There’s something special about hearing your own compositions elevated by musicians who fully understand and embody the style. It’s not just the execution, its also the expression and inflection.
I think it’s huge to recognize that the authenticity you’re after comes from aligning with the right collaborators, not just technically strong players, but people who believe in the same musical language. That choosing your band is choosing your sound is so true. It shows real maturity in how you’re approaching the craft.
—–Tell me about a setback or challenge the project has faced
The biggest setback is that we actually had to record the record twice. So there are two big setbacks. The first thing was that we had to record the record twice. That’s where I really learned about different players and their different approaches, and finding people who were specifically in the hard bop idiom. Corey, basically. It’s like we need to have the players who are going to play this music authentically.
So we scrapped the first recording session, and we had to redo the whole record. And then, actually, the second time we did the record, I was deathly ill and, through the whole thing.
It sounds like you really had to overcome some tough challenges during the recording process, but I also bet you’ve learned a lot from those setbacks. Recording the album twice must’ve been incredibly frustrating, but it’s interesting to hear how it led to a deeper understanding of your players and their unique approaches. In the hard bop idiom, authenticity is crucial, and I can see why you’d want to start fresh if the initial session didn’t meet those standards. That shows a commitment to the vision, even if it meant scrapping everything and starting over.
The second setback with being sick is a real testament to your dedication. It’s not easy to push through illness, especially with such a high-stakes project. It’s crazy to think about the level of determination it took to record while feeling that sick. It’s definitely something that will make the final product even more meaningful, knowing what went into it.
And then I did the session, and I, quite frankly, don’t even really remember the session that well. So everything that kind of came out of me came out of me subconsciously, I guess you’d say. So, there’s things I really like about that. And then there are some things that I kind of missed because I just wasn’t in my right mind when we were doing the record.
So it’s good. It’s art, it’s artistic. But I didn’t necessarily have the same level of control because I was sick.
It’s fascinating that you were able to tap into something subconscious during the recording session, especially given how unwell you were. It sounds like there’s a sense of vulnerability in that—when you’re not fully in control, sometimes the most raw, unfiltered parts of you come through. That can lead to some really interesting and unexpected moments in the music, which might explain why you’re able to appreciate certain aspects of it, even if you were out of it during the session.
—–What’s next, current/future projects, shows, album/track releases
It’s going to be a media campaign in Canada and in America, and getting the work onto radio stations and into magazines.
So thats kind of the steps. After that, the release comes out. We’ll do a CD, release it, Frankies, all that stuff with the original band. And then after that, I would like to start trying to get some touring going on in Canada, in America, overseas. And then, yeah, I’m going to be releasing some tracks, probably start with the first track, Frankie’s Ghost, and then go from there. Make some art to go along with it and put out some photos and all that kind of stuff.
Releasing the CD with the original band seems like a solid next step. Give listeners something tangible to connect with while you build hype around the music. I also like how you’re planning to focus on a single track. Starting with a clear focal point and then branching out is a smart move, especially if you pair it with visuals like artwork and photos. It’s a good way to create a cohesive story around the release.
—–Complete the sentence “music is…”
So complete the sentence. Music is. Well, music is an eternal force to me that stretches back to the dawn of time. I’ve actually, at one point, had an existential crisis about music and about how it was this force that chooses people. And, this is kind of heavy, but this is the truth. It chooses people and or offers itself to people.
And then it’s whether or not you accept that. And then the crazy thing about that is that once you accept it, it’s going to use you as a vehicle for itself to express itself through you. And that means that I’m living a life devoted to this force that wants to move through you and express itself and change people and create a ripple effect in the world.
This kind of existential crisis was the realization that this same force that calls to me and wants to work through me is the same force that’s worked through Bach and Beethoven and Mozart and Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis, and John Coltrane. And basically, you know, that people express as best they can this eternal force, and then they die. And it just moves on and picks the next person to work through.
And that, in a way, almost felt uncaring. But it also made me realize that its mission was so powerful that it was beyond any one person, and all I can do is accept it and then do what I can with it.
Yeah. So there you go. That’s what I think music is.
Written by Alana Black | Evolution Media
Contact: ablack23@my.bcit.ca