I first stumbled upon musicians playing jazz in Mitrovica, my hometown, at the Mitrovica Jazz Festival in the late ‘80s. Surrounded by the familiar sounds of traditional folk, classical and rock music, my 9-year-old self was enchanted to discover jazz — an entirely new world that pulled me in with its energy.

Mitrovica’s relationship with jazz begins a lot earlier than that. It dates back to the 1920s, when the Trepça mining industry was taken over by a British company. While the company transformed the mine into a major producer of metals, they also brought something unexpected to the region — cultural influence from abroad, including the infectious rhythms of jazz. 

This first exposure left a mark on the generations of musicians preceding mine, shaping Mitrovica’s musical identity in ways that often go unrecognized today. The Mitrovica Jazz Festival had only one edition, in 1989. Even after the 1998-99 war in Kosovo the city ceased to see a festival of the same impact. 

But after the 1989 festival, my interest in jazz did not seem destined to intensify. This changed when Miles Davis, the legendary jazz trumpeter, died in 1991. The news of Davis’ passing reached me through the TV screen, accompanied by his inimitable sound. That moment did not just reignite my passion for jazz — it ensured that it would never be extinguished again.

Jazz has always been more than just music — it is a conversation, a culture, a movement. From the streets of New Orleans to the underground clubs of New York City, from Parisian cafes to Tokyo’s smoky basements, jazz thrives when musicians, curators and audiences engage in a dynamic exchange of ideas.

From Mitrovica’s garages to New York City

In the early ‘90s, after a few years of teaching myself to play drums in garage bands, I began taking more formal lessons in hopes of pursuing music professionally. Through the encouragement of my parents and older brothers, at the age of 16, I submitted an application to the University of Music and Dramatic Arts Graz (KUG) to study jazz drums at the Institute for Jazz Graz. To my elation, I was invited to audition — and was accepted. Suddenly, I went from playing drums in Mitrovica’s garages to preparing to be a student at one of Europe’s pioneering institutions for higher education in jazz.

I found myself immersed in an environment of international students and renowned teachers and mentors, several of whom were disciples of the first generation of artists who defined the great musical canon of American jazz: Dennis Irwin, Sheila Jordan, Mark Murphy, Dave Liebman, Al Foster, Idris Muhammad and Joe Lovano, among many others.

During this period of study, I noticed differences between Austria’s jazz scene and Kosovo’s, the most prevalent being the sheer number of venues and institutions that are tailored to jazz music. Many cities in Austria have reputable jazz venues with programming that features regional and international talent. This infrastructure of support, which is lacking in Kosovo, builds a greater discourse and understanding of the music and its many facets.

After 12 years of living in Austria and playing/touring professionally throughout Europe, I relocated to New York City in 2008. My mentor and dear friend, acclaimed bassist Irwin — who I met as a student at KUG — was the one who had recommended this move to me before. 

Moving to the U.S. was not as much of a culture shock as my move to Austria, but the caliber of musicianship was unrivaled. In New York City — often considered a jazz mecca — the music functions on an elevated level, pushing the boundaries in ways I had not fully experienced while in Europe.

As a jazz musician in New York City, there are technical and artistic standards you have to aspire to. The scene promotes a healthy dose of competitiveness that requires you to showcase your talent. Each musician has to do their homework and pay their dues in order to be accepted by the community here.

Fortunately, the relationships I fostered with American musicians during my time in Europe helped me to connect with the New York City jazz scene. While developing my craft under the guidance of the late legendary drummers Muhammad and Milford Graves, it was in New York City that I also began my long-term collaborations with National Endowment for the Arts Jazz Master Liebman, Grammy Award-winning composer and saxophonist Lovano and other greats including George Garzone and Ben Street. These exchanges have most recently manifested into my debut album, “Sparkle from the Infinite,” which was released in October 2024. 

Through my journey as a student and professional, there has always been a personal resonance with what jazz represents beyond just the music. Jazz, although influenced by many different cultures and musical styles through its evolution, emerged from the U.S.’ ongoing oppression of its Black citizens, a community that grew and developed in the face of a repressive state.

Growing up in Mitrovica, I also understand what it means to be a part of a community that has had to endure attacks on our basic human rights. The Yugoslavian state during the 90s was under the regime of the Serbian leader, Slobodan Milosovic. We ended up a community forced by a repressive state to live, grow and survive in a parallel system. It was dangerous to speak Albanian in public, we were banned from education due to school closures and most horrifically, witnessed what ultimately became the ethnic cleansing of our people.

The adversities that I have, and will continue to face, as a result of my birthplace and political agendas past and present, allow me to embody the roots of jazz. As a self-proclaimed jazz ambassador from Kosovo living in the U.S., it is my mission to share this music as a powerful symbol of the fight for freedom of all oppressed peoples.

To me, jazz is freedom 

It’s essential for curators to stay plugged into what is happening beyond their immediate surroundings. Travelling, networking and engaging — whether through artist panels, conferences, concert series or festival programming — consistently absorbing and exchanging knowledge with experts, scholars and musicians worldwide. 

If the curators in Kosovo prioritized this concentration of exchange, from my experience, the impact would be undeniable: a higher caliber of musicianship, diversified programming and an increased international profile for Kosovo’s arts and culture sector, including individual artists.

Alongside this, something must also be done for the dilution of jazz as a singular form. From my expertise, the majority of musicians and bands representing Kosovo at Jazz Festival Prishtina, Peja Jazz Festival or Mitrovica International Jazz Days would not be classified as jazz artists on an international stage. Jazz is being used as a misnomer for other musical styles (rock, pop, ethno-fusion, etc.) at these festivals and other cultural events claiming to be representative of the genre.

If audiences in Kosovo are not exposed to jazz’s authentic roots and meanings, how can the scene truly generate a deeper sense of appreciation and understanding for this music?

The current state of Kosovo’s jazz scene raises important questions about the diversity and transparency of its curatorial practices. Nepotism and bureaucracy limit institutional development in Kosovo. If the same can be said for Kosovo’s jazz scene, it would make sense as to why I find limited opportunity to foster a more dynamic and inclusive community. Implementing modes like inviting guest curators or holding open calls could help to break these cycles.

Many arts organizations in the U.S. and other European countries make their curatorial and selection processes accessible to the public via press releases and online media and promotion. For Kosovo, I do not see the same, suggesting a more internal selection process. 

I have not been officially invited to share my music with audiences in Kosovo since 2006. This is not for lack of trying. Over this extended period of time I have made several attempts to engage in a professional etiquette with Kosovo’s festival curators to offer my contributions as both a musician and educator, but there has been zero follow through.

When working with curators from New York City and across Europe, a certain level of professionalism is conducted. Curators and their designated staff within their jazz scenes actively respond to partnership proposals, if successful meetings are held to negotiate and finalize contractual terms inclusive of performance scheduling, compensation, travel and accommodation. My experience with Kosovo however falls short of this professionalism. 

Some of Kosovo’s festival directors have contacted me in the recent past to express their interest in presenting me and my collaborators, but when I follow-up regarding an initial timeline and terms of engagement, they either do not respond or claim they do not have the budget to invite U.S.-based artists. These actions seem contradictory to me, as the latest editions of these festivals included several performers, some headliners, who are currently based in the U.S. or abroad.

During Prime Minister Albin Kurti’s opening speech at the 2024 Prishtina Jazz Festival he said, “I am honored to be here with you this evening and to carry on the tradition of the most democratic music genre in Kosovo, which is Jazz Fest Prishtina.”

If the Prishtina Jazz Festival is “the most democratic music genre in Kosovo,” why is a musician like myself, a Kosovar from Mitrovica with a higher education and international profile in jazz, not being included? My journey in music has always been about connecting people by opening bridges, not closing them. Each and every exchange with an audience is a unique and transformative experience. I want to be able to explore this musical connection with audiences in my home country, however domestic structures prevent me from doing so. 

To elevate its jazz scene, Kosovo must take reference from this global model of exchange to provide its artists and audiences alike, musical experiences that push beyond the status quo.

Feature Image: Atdhe Mulla / K2.0.

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