Written interview with pianist and composer Moncef Genoud – Live At Porgy And Bess.
Jazz Blues European Union: – Thank you for taking the time to have this interview with Jazz Blues EU. Tell us about your music. When did you start performing?
Moncef Genoud: – I’ve always felt that music has the unique ability to tell stories without words. Whenever I play, my first intention is to create an atmosphere and evoke an emotion. Improvisation lies at the heart of my approach, not as a display of virtuosity, but as an opportunity to create something that exists only in that particular moment.
Jazz entered my life at a very early age. I began playing the piano when I was six, after being adopted by a Swiss family. My father was an avid jazz enthusiast, and our home was filled with the sounds of Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller and many other great musicians. Without even realizing it, jazz became my native language.
I first performed in public as a teenager, playing with friends at small festivals and at concerts organized during a language exchange in Germany. Those early experiences gave me a taste for the stage and confirmed that performing was where I truly belonged.
By the time I was twenty, I had become a professional musician. While studying at the Geneva Conservatory, I earned a living playing piano in the lounges of prestigious hotels. It was an invaluable learning experience. I discovered how to listen to a place, how to sense an audience, and how to adapt without ever compromising my musical identity.
Soon afterwards, I founded the Moncef Sextet with fellow musicians from Geneva. From there, projects followed one another naturally: recordings, festivals, tours, radio and television appearances. Over the past four decades, I’ve been fortunate enough to perform in a wide variety of setings, from solo piano recitals to symphony orchestra collaborations.
Yet my purpose has never really changed: to sit at the piano with honesty and make every performance a genuine human encounter through music.
What do you consider to be your hometown and how does that affect your music?
If I had to name just one city, my answer would undoubtedly be Geneva. It is where I truly became a musician. I studied there, met my first musical partners, founded my earliest ensembles, and built the professional network that has accompanied me throughout my career. Geneva has become my artistic home.
My story, however, is more nuanced than that. I was born in Tunis and grew up in Switzerland. For many years, Tunisia remained almost an abstract part of my identity, something rooted in my personal history rather than in my everyday life.
Everything changed when I returned to Tunis for the first time in 1988. I spent a month there performing with the American saxophonist Robin Kenyatta. Immersing myself in North African music allowed me to discover its richness from within and, almost instinctively, to recognize sounds and rhythms that somehow already felt familiar. That experience profoundly expanded my musical universe.
Today, I feel connected to three different worlds. Switzerland gave me my education and musical training. Tunisia gave me my roots and a particular sensitivity. North America remains the birthplace of jazz, the music that continues to inspire me every day.
I’ve never felt the need to choose between these different identities. They complement one another naturally, and together they continue to shape both my music and the musician I have become.
What performers have been your inspiration?
My earliest musical influences came from the records that were constantly playing at home. My adoptive father was a passionate jazz lover who introduced me to artists such as Louis Armstrong and Fats Waller. I grew up listening to their sense of swing, their generosity, and their remarkable ability to tell a story through music.
Later on, a number of pianists had a profound impact on my development, including Oscar Peterson, Bill Evans, Keith Jarrett, Michel Petrucciani and, more recently, Brad Mehldau. Each of them inspired me in a different way – through virtuosity, harmonic sophistication, freedom, or the way they shaped a musical narrative.
Over time, however, I realized that my greatest sources of inspiration were not only pianists. Saxophonists and rhythm sections have influenced me just as deeply.
One of the most memorable moments of my career began with what seemed like an impossible dream. While in New York, I decided to contact Michael Brecker, one of my musical heroes. After listening to one of my demos, he told me he wasn’t available at the time but introduced me to Bob Berg instead. That encounter led to my first recording in the United States. Ten years later, I finally had the privilege of recording Aqua with Michael Brecker, Scott Colley and Bill Stewart. That experience taught me an important lesson: in music, you should never be afraid to knock on doors.
Many of the defining moments in my career have come from instinctive encounters rather than careful planning. That’s how I discovered Youssou N’Dour, a meeting that eventually led to several collaborative projects, including Retour à Gorée. Experiences like these have confirmed something I’ve believed for a long time: the most meaningful opportunities often begin with a simple encounter.
What do you find most challenging about being an independent artist in today’s music industry?
We live in a fascinating paradox. Never before has it been so easy to record an album and make it available to listeners all over the world. Digital platforms have given independent musicians unprecedented freedom to share their work without relying on a record label. That is an extraordinary opportunity.
The downside is that thousands of new tracks are released every single day. The real challenge is no longer making music; it’s finding a way to be heard amid this overwhelming abundance.
Today, being an independent artist requires far more than musical ability. You have to imagine new projects, build partnerships, organize tours, produce your own recordings, communicate with audiences and promote your work. In many ways, we have become entrepreneurs as much as musicians.
Yet I also see this as a form of freedom. It allows me to remain true to my artistic choices instead of shaping my music according to market expectations. In the end, I would rather follow my own path than pursue trends that may disappear tomorrow.
What do you base your success on?
I’m not sure “success” is the word I would choose. I prefer to think in terms of a journey. In our profession, success isn’t measured solely by record sales, awards or prestigious concert halls. It’s also about being able to make a living from your passion, remaining curious, and still looking forward to every new performance.
Looking back, three things have mattered most to me: perseverance, hard work and staying true to myself. I’ve never been interested in following trendsortailoring my music to what was expected. I’ve always preferred to remain faithful to what I genuinely wanted to express.
That choice hasn’t always led me down the easiest road, but I’ve neverregrettedit. Many of the projects that have shaped my career began with nothing more than an intuition or an unexpected encounter – something that sparked my curiosity without any guarantee that it was the most sensible decision.
More than forty years later, I still feel the same excitement whenever a new project comes along. As long as that curiosity remains alive, I’ll feel that I’ve stayed true to the reason I chose this life in music.
Can you talk about your experiences collaborating with other artists or musicians? How does it influence your creative process?
I’ve always sought out musicians who would challenge me and help me grow. From an early stage in my career, I wanted to work with American rhythm sections. Their sense of swing, the way they make the music breathe, and their artistic standards became an extraordinary school for me.
Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of sharing the stage or the recording studio with musicians such as Michael Brecker, Bob Berg, Seamus Blake, Bill Stewart, Alvin Queen, Idris Muhammad, Reginald Johnson and Scott Colley. Every one of those collaborations has enriched both my musical language and my personal journey.
One quality I’ve always admired is a musician’s ability to develop a sound that is instantly recognizable. That reminds me of a particularly meaningful memory involving Idris Muhammad. One day I told him how much I loved the sound of one of his cymbals. At theend of theconcert, hesimply handedit to me and said, “Keep it.” I was deeply moved by such generosity. My only regret, even today, is that I never thought to ask him to sign it.
Perhaps that’s also why I’ve always been so drawn to tenor saxophonists. I find myself transcribing tenor saxophone solos far more often than piano solos. A piano can never naturally reproduce the breath, phrasing and subtle inflections of a tenor saxophone. Precisely because of that limitation, I’m constantly forced to invent new solutions, and that has become an important source of creativity for me.
A successful collaboration isn’t simply a matter of bringing talented musicians together. It happens when everyone genuinely listens to one another and feels free to contribute something personal. Those unexpected moments often give birth to the most beautiful musical ideas.
What was your latest musical release?
My latest album is Live at Porgy & Bess, a live recording with the outstanding American saxophonist SeamusBlake, capturedatthelegendary Viennajazzclubofthesame name. It holds a very special place in my journey as a musician.
I’ve admired Seamus Blake for many years. What I love most about his playing is his extraordinary freedom, his ability to surprise while remaining completely coherent in his musical language. He’s exactly the kind of musician I enjoy sharing the stage with.
Recording a live album is always a unique experience. There are no second takes, no opportunity to correct a mistake. Everything happens in the moment, and that very fragility is part of what makes jazz so beautiful.
Porgy & Bess provides the perfect seting for this kind of music-making. Its remarkably attentive audience creates an atmosphere that encourages musicians to take risks. Before long, we had completely forgotten about the microphones and were simply immersed in the music.
More than any other recording I’ve made, this album reflects what I’ve been searching for throughout my career: allowing the music to unfold naturally, guided by the moment rather than by the pursuit of perfection.
Do you have any news to share? Could you share the story behind your latest new CD Moncef Genoud, Seamus Blake – Live At Porgy And Bess what inspired its creation?
The story behind this album developed very naturally.
It all began in Bangkok, where I had been invited to perform during a tour of Southeast Asia. That was where I first heard the American saxophonist Seamus Blake live. We already knew of each other, but we had never actually played together.
A little later, I invited him to Switzerland to perform at the Chorus Jazz Club in Lausanne. From the very first notes, we both felt that something special was happening. Without lengthy rehearsals or endless discussions, we found a shared musical language almost immediately. It felt completely natural, and it made us want to continue exploring that musical connection.
When we later performed at Porgy & Bess in Vienna, our only goal was to give the best concert we possibly could. Recording an album wasn’t even on our minds. It was only afterwards, when we listened back to the recording, that we realized it captured everything we love about jazz: spontaneity, risk-taking and those magical moments that no rehearsal can ever create.
Live at Porgy & Bess is the story of that musical encounter. Rather than the result of a carefullyplanned project, it is the natural outcome of a friendshipand a musicaldialogue that grew stronger with every concert we played together.
How does your latest album fit into your creative path? Is this a goal you wanted to achieve?
This album was nevera goal initself. Rather, it representsa naturalstepalong my musical journey. I’ve never planned my career according to a precise roadmap. The projects that have mattered most have always grown out of meaningful encounters and an obvious musical connection.
I’ve alwayslovedperforming insmall ensembles becausetheyofferthe greatestfreedom of expression. Over the years, the duo has become especially meaningful to me. In my view, it’s one of the most demanding setings in jazz. There is nowhere to hide. Every note, every silence, every breath matters.
With Seamus Blake, that level of listening came naturally. Sometimes, a single musical intention, a slight change in phrasing or dynamics is enough to transform the conversation. We respond to one another, surprise one another, almost like two tennis players enjoying a long rally without worrying about who wins the point.
At this stage of my life, I feel less need to impress than to express. I’m searching for simplicity rather than complexity, and for authenticity rather than virtuosity. Sometimes a single note, played with complete honesty, can have far greater impact than the most dazzling technical demonstration.
Perhaps that’s what this album represents. Not a destination, but a reflection of the musician I have gradually become.
How doyouapproach theprocess of songwriting,and arethereany specific themes or emotions you tend to explore in your music?
My compositions rarely begin with an intellectual concept or a theoretical idea. Very oftenthey start with a melody. If that melody continues to resonate with me severaldays later, I know it’s worth developing.
I’ve always been deeply attached to melodies that stay with the listener. I greatly admire musicians capable of building sophisticated harmonic structures, but in the end it’s almost always the melody people remember. That’s what I strive for whenever I compose.
My inspiration extends far beyond jazz and is deeply rooted in classical music as well. Bill Evans taught me a great deal about harmonic refinement, while Bach and Chopin have always moved me profoundly. I also have tremendous admiration for Erik Satie, whose apparent simplicity conceals extraordinary depth. All these influences coexist naturally. I never try to blend them consciously; they simply belong to who I am.
I don’t set out to tell a specific story. I’d rather suggest an atmosphere or an emotion and leave listeners free to create their own journey. To me, that’s one of the greatest strengths of instrumental music.
Over the years, my writing has become increasingly stripped down. I now remove more than I add. I’m searching for the one note that feels inevitable when it arrives, rather than an accumulation of ideas. In music, as in many aspects of life, simplicity is often the result of a very long journey.
As an indie musician, how do you navigate the balance between creative freedom and commercial appeal?
I’ve never started a project by asking myself whether it would be commercially successful. The moment that becomes my starting point, I lose part of my creative freedom.
Of course, I always hope my albums will find their audience. But I believe listeners can quickly sense whether a piece of music comes from genuine artistic conviction or from an attempt to satisfy market expectations. That’s why I’ve always preferred to remain true to my own musical vision rather than follow passing trends.
My guiding principle is actually quite simple: if a piece of music moves me because it feels honest and authentic, it’s far more likely to move someone else than if it has been designed to meet an imagined demand.
Being an independent musician means accepting that responsibility. It means building a lasting relationship with your audience patiently, one concert and one recording at a time. It may be the slower path, but it’s the only one that truly reflects the way I see music.
What role does technology and social media play in promoting your music and connecting with your audience?
Technology has become an essential part of a musician’s life. It allows us to introduce new projects, announce concerts and reach listeners all over the world. Even though streaming generates only modest income (especially in jazz), I would much rather have my music heard than left siting on a shelf.
Social media has also made it easier to maintain a direct relationship with listeners and to share the life of a project as it evolves. But it’s important never to lose sight of what really matters: the music itself.
That said, I’m convinced that no technology will ever replace the experience of a live performance. Arecordingcanbebeautiful, but it canneverrecreate what happens when musicians and an audience share the same moment. That shared emotion is the very reason why we do what we do.
People may easily forget a track they streamed a few weeks ago. But they often remember for years a concert that genuinely moved them. That’s what I keep searching for, whatever new technologies may come along.
Could you describe a memorable live performance experience or tour that has had a lasting impact on you and your music?
It’s dificult to choose just one memory. Some concerts stay with you long after you’ve left the stage.
One that immediately comes to mind is a solo recital I gave in a church during the Cully Jazz Festival in Switzerland. The atmosphere was almost meditative. The silence in the audience was so intense that it became part of the music itself. It was probably there that I truly discovered the joy of performing solo. Siting alone at the piano is both demanding and deeply rewarding. When a genuine dialogue develops with the audience, the feeling of freedom is unlike anything else.
I also have vivid memories of a trio tour in South Africa. We sometimes played in a township one evening and in a major concert hall in Pretoria or Cape Town the next. The audiences were completely different, yet the music always found its way. That experience taught me that you can speak to very different audiences without ever compromising your own musical identity.
Another unforgettable experience was touring in Japan. In some places, hardly anyone spoke English. After the concerts, we communicated with little more than smiles, handshakes and a few gestures. I couldn’t understand the words, yet I understood the emotion perfectly. It was one of those moments that reminded me most powerfully that music truly is a universal language.
In an era of streaming platforms, how do you feel about the changing landscape of music consumption and its impact on independent musicians?
Streaming has completely transformed the way music travels. Today, an independent artist can reach listeners anywhere in the world without the support of a major record label. That’s anextraordinaryopportunity,even if thefinancial return, particularly injazz, remains very modest.
I prefer to see streaming as a gateway rather than an end in itself. If someone discovers my music online and later decides to come to a concert – or even invites me to perform at a festival – then streaming has fulfilled its purpose.
More than ever, the direct support of listeners has become essential. Every person who listens to an album, attends a concert or follows an artist over the years plays a part in keeping this music alive.
Streaming allows music to travel. Live performance gives it a soul.
Musicians often have a close relationship with their fanbase. How do you engage with your fans and build a dedicated community around your music?
Social media allows me to share news about upcoming concerts and new projects. It’s an easy way to stay connected between tours, but it’s not where the real relationship is built.
The moments that mean the most to me are those that come after the concert. Performing requires such intense concentration that, once I leave the stage, I need a few quiet moments to come back down to earth before fully reconnecting with the people around me. After that, I enjoy sharing a meal with fellow musicians, friends or members of the audience. Sometimes we talk about music, sometimes about completely different things. Those simple, spontaneous conversations often become a natural extension of the concert itself.
I’m always touched to meet people who have been following my musical journey for many years, just as I’m delighted whenever my music reaches new listeners. Both long-standing loyalty and fresh curiosity are a constant source of encouragement.
I don’t set out to build a “community” in the way the word is often used today. I simply hope to develop a sincere relationship with those who find something meaningful in my music. If they choose to come back because they shared a moment that truly moved them, that’s the greatest compliment I could receive.
How can fans find you? Lastly, please share some final words with the fans.
You can follow my latest projects, recordings and concert news through my oficial website, the major streaming platforms and my social media channels.
Above all, I hope we’ll have the opportunity to meet at a concert someday. That’s where this music truly comes alive, and where every performance becomes a unique experience.
I’d like to sincerely thank everyone who takes the time to listen, to attend concerts and to support live music. In a world that moves increasingly fast, choosing to pause for an evening of music is something truly precious.
If my music has been able to accompany you for a while, awaken an emotion or simply offer you a moment to breathe, then I’ll feel I’ve achieved what matters most.
I hope we’ll meet somewhere, someday, around a piano.
By Olivia Peevas
