So, here we are, almost one month into a new year with an inherent expectation of things to come. Some things are known, such as the election of a new president, the Patriots in the Super Bowl and the fact that winter’s cold weather will give way to the warm temperatures of spring and summer. This time of year, some folks ponder life issues with the goal of making their lives richer and more meaningful. Others contemplate pressing issues like the state of the economy or the environment. Sometimes it takes a single isolated incident to help crystallize one’s thinking.

Such was the case for me recently. Late last month, I was mulling over the state of jazz when news hit the street that pianist Oscar Peterson had passed away at the age of 82. It was another in a series of deaths that hit the jazz world in late December, but Peterson’s passing was particularly shocking because there was no prior notice that he had been ill. After getting over my initial sadness at the loss of this great musician, I soon came to the conclusion that Peterson’s death represented the end of an era in jazz—that of the jam session oriented recordings and performances that were a hallmark of the music from the early 1940s to the late 1970s. The era was exemplified by Jazz at the Philharmonic concerts in the ’50s and Pablo Records jazz recordings in the ’70s, both of which included Peterson as an active participant. Concluding that the jam era was over led me back to pondering the things that bother me about jazz today.

For several years now, much of the jazz I’ve heard—especially from younger musicians—leaves me feeling less than satisfied. At a certain level, I can appreciate the musicianship and overall energy that I hear. But, at the same time, I feel that the jazz of today also comes off as being a little too mechanical and academic sounding. It’s as if many of the younger musicians have learned all the solo patterns and licks without having inherited the feeling or spirit of adventure that is crucial to making jazz music great. So, when I began reflecting on Peterson’s death and his place in the jazz history, it dawned on me that what I have long admired about jazz’s past is what I miss most today: the spirit of spontaneous jamming.

With very few exceptions, you rarely hear the sorts of jams that were commonplace back in the day. Today, it seems as if jazz has become a commodity in which recorded jam sessions are not encouraged or even considered. Instead, the industry tries to find the next young jazz superstar who has tons of technical ability but little sense of real soul. It seems, at times, as if younger players are more concerned about using a jazz image to land a recording contract or a possible college teaching gig than making a meaningful and substantive contribution to helping jazz to survive and thrive.

In short, I’ve come to feel that modern jazz lacks the feeling of family and community that it had as recently as 10 years ago—feelings exemplified by the spirit of improvisational jams. I’m not saying that musicians shouldn’t explore new ways to create music or establish themselves in a way that is sincerely meaningful for jazz. But, it also wouldn’t hurt to remember all aspects of the music’s legacy, as exemplified by Oscar Peterson and the many others who passed on in recent years, and to honor that legacy in more meaningful ways. To me, the future of jazz lies in combining the fresh and new with the tried and true.

As mentioned earlier, there were a number of deaths in the jazz world late last year. Along with Oscar Peterson, baritone saxophonist Cecil Payne, who performed in the big bands of Dizzy Gillespie and Woody Herman along with numerous small group gigs, passed away at the age 84 in late November. Alto saxophonist Frank Morgan, a protégé of Charlie Parker who battled substance abuse for decades before resurrecting his career in the late 1980s, passed away at age 74 in December. Also passing away in December, at age 68, was producer Joel Dorn, who realized a teenage ambition by going to work for Atlantic Records and producing hit recordings by Roberta Flack and Ray Charles, among many others. Dorn then went on to start and operate several of his own small independent jazz labels, including 32 Jazz and Label M. And, trumpet virtuoso Pete Candoli, who rose to prominence in Woody Herman’s First Herd of the mid- and late-’40s and who later was a long-time member of Doc Severinsen’s Tonight Show Orchestra, passed away earlier this month in Los Angeles at age 84.

All the recent deaths further prove the need for continually passing the torch to a new generation of jazz musicians.

In my last JU, I inadvertently left two CD titles off my best-of lists, and both deserve mentioning. One CD is “Migration,” on the Cam Jazz label, from remarkable drummer Antonio Sanchez. The album is primarily a two-saxophone-bass-drums affair that burns with fervent energy and imagination. The other is a never-before-released 1964 performance by the Charles Mingus Sextet at Cornell University. The disc, released on Blue Note, documents one of the great bassist/composer’s finest bands, with saxophonist Eric Dolphy among the sidemen. It is truly a fantastic recording.