Leaving Space: Marquis Hill on Artistic Lineage and his 2026 Newport Jazz Performance

Over the last few decades, several musicians have explored the rich intersection of jazz with R&B and hip hop. Some purists have argued that blending styles somehow debases the music typically proclaimed as “America’s Classical Music.” Or, alternatively, such critics even claim that other contemporary expressions do not belong in that lineage at all. Such protestations, however, cheapen the work of today’s artists. Worse still, their simplified narratives undermine the true lessons of the artistic forebears. Those flaws are laid bare in our conversation with Marquis Hill.

Since winning the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz’s International Trumpet Competition in 2014, Hill has produced a string of forward-thinking records. His first major-label release, The Way We Play (Concord, 2016) highlighted the groove of R&B and hip hop, confirming the centrality of those forms in his sound. The Meditation Tape and Love Tape series of albums that followed overtly nod to the mixtape, a staple of musical communication between the 1970s and 1990s, more typically associated with neo-soul and sampling. Running through his entire oeuvre, beginning with his debut New Gospel (self-release, 2011), is the trumpeter’s conviction that several genres – not solely those unquestionably labeled as “jazz” – are all on a shared path of Black musical excellence. This openness, by itself, may prove unsettling to neo-traditionalist crusaders. After all, the music that allegedly died in the 1960s was purportedly resurrected in the 1980s primarily by sticking to tried-and-true formulas.

But in a deeper sense, Hill’s work taps into something that has guided the brilliance of jazz since its origins. At its heart, the music is one of lineage. It is passed down through mentors and apprentices, jam sessions, bands, recordings, and the oral tradition. Each stop along the way adds hues of other approaches to the discussion. The true greats fully understood how the music best preserves an artistic lineage by continuing to grow and envelop other musical ideas. Jazz is not a semi-stagnant form that only marginally changes over the years. Rather, it is a living trunk, from which many branches ultimately reach out into their own new direction. The greatest contribution to the form allows the music to freely and organically expand. An artist should not artificially clip musical growth merely to fit some finely bonsaied frame. Hill himself has strongly advocated actively mentoring younger creators, teaching the music as a living and breathing art; not an artifact to reexamine. The figures he references in our conversation – Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis’s Second Great Quintet, Dizzy Gillespie, even the radical freedom of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM) – make it clear that Hill is not some aberration on that timeline but a necessary continuation of it.  

We sat down with Hill to discuss his upcoming performance at the 2026 Newport Jazz Festival, the work he has written to premiere there, his artistic lineage, and why Artificial Intelligence (AI) can never supplant the humanity of live music.

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PostGenre: Do you remember when you first learned of Newport?

Marquis Hill: Man, I first learned about Newport probably sometime in late high school or college. I was researching the records from there by Miles [Davis] and all the other legends who played and recorded at Newport. I’ve been familiar with Newport’s history for a while, having studied the music.

PG: Do you have a favorite recording from there?

MH: Since this year is his centennial, right now I’m going to say Miles, man. His recording from 1958.

PG: Tied to Miles, earlier in your career, you had worked with Marcus Miller for several years. Did it ever feel imposing to play trumpet with someone who was such a huge part of Miles’ later career?

MH: Maybe for a tad bit, but I looked at it more as a badge of honor to be one of the trumpet players who passed through Marcus’ band. As you said, he was one of the guys who played a significant role with Miles, and we looked at Marcus’ band and the legacy of that trumpet seat in it. He had Sean Jones, Christian Scott, and Russell Gunn; all these great players I have a reverence for. I take having been in Marcus’ band for six years as a badge of honor. It meant that Marcus saw something in me to the point that he would put me in his band. I felt honored more than any fear.

PG: Going back to Newport, in 2015 you performed at the Festival as part of a set called the “Triumph of Trumpets” with Jon Faddis and Sean Jones, which was partly to honor the sixtieth anniversary of Miles’ famous 1955 performance.

MH: Yeah, we did the trumpet summit there. That was a beautiful moment of music.

PG: It is interesting that you had that performance and then, in 2023, you also played as part of a multi-trumpet group with Giveton Gelin and Bruce Harris as a tribute to Louis Armstrong. What do you enjoy most about performing in these multi-trumpet settings? They are not very common.

MH: Yeah, they’re not. I’m actually trying to bring back the art of the trumpet summit. For me, the trumpet is such a personal instrument. The trumpet and the trombone seem, to me, to be the instruments most connected to the human voice. When you hear a great trumpet player, you hear them singing through their instrument.

I find it inspiring to be on a stage with four or five other trumpet players and hear their unique voices, then incorporate my own unique voice into it. And I normally walk away with a bunch of inspiration from hearing great trumpet players. That’s what I love about those types of settings: hearing how great players approach their personal sound and finding myself walking away with inspiration from it.

PG: As part of the Armstrong Now: Louis at Newport tribute, you also went to the Louis Armstrong House Museum and went through his archives. What do you feel you learned the most from the experience of going through his archives, and how might that have shaped your own music?

MH: We spent about a week in the Armstrong House, probably five days. We went every day during that period.  I remember being fascinated by a particular quote of his: “It’s very simple. You have to listen to all music.” I love all music and have learned from all music. Here was Louis Armstrong, back in the 60s, talking about how he, too, had a reverence for music. Many coined him a “traditional-era trumpet player” or a “swing-era trumpet player” but, in reality, he had a love and reverence for all music. That really stuck with me. And the more we dug through the archives, read his journals, and listened to some of his interviews, his love for all music came out even more fully.

I always tell my younger students that the more versed you are with the different genres and sounds of the world, the more well-rounded you become as a player. Those sounds and rhythms you hear start to come out in your playing. That’s a beautiful thing.

PG: It is also cool to see such a legendary figure like Armstrong essentially affirming what you are doing by bringing hip hop, R&B, and all kinds of other sonic ideas into your own music.

MH: Exactly.

PG: That’s not to minimize what you do and your own perspectives, but it is also shows how those making “jazz” have been doing something similar forever.

MH: Forever. Yeah, that really stuck with me.

PG: And that incorporation of sounds also reflects an artist’s own shifting life experiences. Armstrong’s later music, when he had been living in New York, presumably incorporated sounds from his experience of living there in a way that was different from the beginning of his career in New Orleans. Perhaps related, you moved out of Chicago and to New York several years ago, right?

MH: Now I’m back and forth, splitting my time between New York and Chicago, but I was in New York full time for fourteen years. My family’s here in Chicago, but I keep my apartment in uptown New York and am there at least once or twice a month.

PG: Do you feel that living outside Chicago –  in your case, New York – may have shaped your own sound or musical ideas?

MH: Absolutely. Because of the amount of energy and electricity in New York, it’s hard to be there for an extended period of time without the city influencing your music.

But having, for so many years, gone to places in Chicago like the Velvet Lounge jam sessions, the New Apartment Lounge jam sessions, and being around the AACM and so many other figures on the scene, all of that has been ingrained in my subconscious. When I’m composing, the sounds of Chicago come out naturally in my music.

PG: How can the freedom of the AACM be heard in your music? Most people would pick up on the hip hop and R&B influences, but not necessarily notice your connections to the AACM.

MH: It comes out in my leaving space in compositions. Especially in a live setting, I’ll program a set but, in between each song, purposely and intentionally leave space for us to improvise and create interludes to tie one song to the next. The freedom of the AACM is naturally embedded in the way I approach my live set and in how I approach composition.

If you come to Chicago, even today, nine out of ten jazz performances will have someone with a table of toys. I call it a table of toys, but it’s really a bunch of small percussion, bells, and other handheld things. Seeing that growing up on the scene has influenced the way I produce my live performances, too.

PG: As far as your own sound, you performed at Newport as a leader with your Blacktet back in 2018. How do you feel you have grown the most as a leader in the almost decade since?

MH: My compositional skills, my concept of sound, and how I want music to feel now all reflect a greater level of freedom. Now, I mostly trust the musicians to do what works. From 2017 or 2018 onward, I have worked harder to leave space in the music for spontaneity. You need to leave space to allow the musicians to be themselves and bring their own individuality.

There was a time when I would write a piece of music, give it to the band, and tell them exactly how I wanted it to sound. But as I’ve grown, my music has become more than just the notes on a page. Now, I’ll write a piece of music or a sketch and tell the other musicians to make it their own. I want them to figure out for themselves how to interpret and play it. Leaving that space for spontaneity for the musicians to bring their own personal characters and voice to the music is where the magic starts to happen. And focusing on creating those opportunities might be my biggest point of growth since 2018.

PG: Does that focus on leaving space change your process for writing music?

MH: I don’t think it has changed my process per se. However, my compositional process has changed. In 2017 or 2018, I was writing mostly while sitting at a piano with a pencil and manuscript paper. Now, I am more likely to sit behind a computer with a keyboard next to me, programming the chords or the bassline and creating a demo so I can hear it in real time. I then send that demo to the musicians before I even send them handwritten music. I think sending a recording of a demo or a sketch of what I’m hearing before giving the music helps create that space we were just talking about. Sometimes sheet music can lock the musicians in. I’d rather musicians use their ears and heart to create music. And after we get into a space and a vibe, then I provide them with the actual sheet music.  

And if you think about it, we were just talking about Miles and one of the things that made him a great composer and bandleader is how he left that space. He left freedom for his musicians to run wild with the music. The [Second] Great Quintet with Herbie [Hancock], Wayne [Shorter], Tony [Williams], and Ron [Carter] experimented on stage. The great music we love today was a big experiment for them back in the 60s. You could consider some of the things they did to be mistakes. But when we hear it today, it’s not a mistake. They were experienced, and Miles knew to leave an organic space for these young musicians to experiment. I’ve tried to adopt that approach.

PG: There are even stories of Miles just leaving the stage or building entirely for the rest of the group to find their way through the music.

MH: Yep. “You guys take it away.”

PG: At Newport this summer, you will premiere some new music you have been writing. What can you share about it?

MH: I’ve been working on constantly writing, composing, and creating. But for the Newport performance, I have a set of music that we plan on recording and releasing sometime next year. Being able to play it live, throughout the year before we actually record and release it, gives us space and a chance to almost workshop the music in real time. Playing it at a festival like Newport in front of a large audience is especially helpful for that. A lot of my music is inspired by my life experiences and the things I’m studying and listening to at the time. I’m excited to play some of this music at Newport.

My compositions are also inspired by the musicians I work with. I tend to write music for certain musicians. Some people are afraid of performing pieces with space in them. Some people need a sheet of music with every single detail on it. And some people can take a sheet of music with just a sketch and make an orchestra out of it. I tell all band members I work with, “Here’s a sheet of music; now play it as if you wrote it.” I think that statement alone leaves space for that creativity and that openness. So, I purposely seek out people who can use that space.

PG: Is that why you work so often with musicians with Chicago ties?

MH: Going back to what I was saying earlier about the AACM, I do think Chicago teaches artists how to be comfortable with space. Musicians from Chicago are more likely to make something out of the minimal, whether a sketch of a melody or a bassline. Musicians from certain other cities and geographical areas need more detail to make things work. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it is definitely different from musicians from Chicago.

PG: Why do you think other cities are not like Chicago in that regard?

MH: Maybe that freedom and spontaneity aren’t as ingrained in the culture of those other cities. I’ll even say that is the case for New York sometimes. I’ve been in situations where I’ve brought in a sketch of music to some New York musicians and they find it a little more difficult to work with it. They will ask what exactly they should do at a certain part instead of making the piece their own.

PG: So, for the music you will be presenting at Newport, who is in the band?

MH: I’ve got the young guitarist Emmanuel Michael. He’s not from Chicago but knows how to play freely. He has a very unique approach. When I hear Emmanuel play, he sounds limitless. He sounds like he can play whatever it is he’s hearing in his mind. I like that type of freedom with my ensemble.

I also have Junius Paul on bass. He’s one of my brothers whom I look up to from Chicago. He  has that same freedom I look for in musicians. One of the unique things about Junius is that both he and his father are DJs. From exposure to so many kinds of music, when Junius plays, he can pull from so many different influences to create something brand new. I love that.

And I have Makaya McCraven on drums. Makaya is one of those drummers who has a reverence for jazz and all music that falls underneath that umbrella, which, if we’re being real, encompasses almost all genres of music. He also has a reverence for music from around the world, especially the grooves and rhythms that come from the Eastern Hemisphere. I love musicians who can adapt and bring all of those different influences to my music.

PG: As far as rhythm, you actually started on drums as a kid before switching to trumpet. Although you did not stay on them long, you were certainly pulled to the drums. Given that interest, do you feel you approach rhythm differently in some way than most trumpeters?

MH: That’s a great question. I only played the drums for about a year before I switched to trumpet. But to this day, I still practice on the drums. I still play the drums. I’m definitely attracted to music that’s rhythmic, too.

When I compose, I’m attracted to heavy basslines that are steeped in groove and drum patterns. I think that’s due to the fact that my first instrument was the drums and how I was raised listening to heavy groove-oriented music. So, I probably do approach rhythm differently.

PG: As far as Makaya, you also played at Newport as a sideman over the years with him, one being in 2021 before a half-capacity, spread-out, and masked audience coming out of the pandemic.

MH: It was definitely different, but we all were so excited to be back out performing for people. It felt great to get back into that space because we all were doing virtual performances and sitting in the house for so long.

PG: And again in 2022.

MH: Right. Now, the world is back to live performances and, actually, live music is needed more than ever now, especially with AI. I’m excited to continue connecting with people in a live setting and to keep connecting and playing music with people.

PG: You can generally hear – at least in the jazz space – whether a recording was made by AI. But who knows how long it will stay that way. That uncertainty is pretty scary.

MH: It’s scary. I’ve heard some things that have actually fooled me into thinking I was listening to real musicians. I had to double-check and say, “Wait a minute, this is AI.” I found those harder-to-decipher types of recordings mostly in the neo-soul R&B realm. But that said, AI will never take away the human quality that live music brings and possesses. It’ll never replace what live musicians can do. So I think of AI more as a tool than something to fear.

PG: Do you see AI as having any role in your music-making process at some point?

MH: No, I don’t think so. I’d rather be the sole creator and producer of my art.

PG: AI can express itself with technical proficiency. It can master notes and rhythms, but it will never capture the human soul behind. Your most recent album, (Beautifulism) Sweet Surrender (Black Unlimited Music, 2026), draws from the church, and your first album was New Gospel. Do you see music making as a spiritual act?

MH: Making music is definitely spiritual. It’s an internal thing. It’s spiritual. It teaches you about the self. It teaches you about the knowledge of self.

I was just watching a Wynton Marsalis interview where a student asked him whether he writes his music for the listener or for himself.  Wynton said, “Innately we write for the listener, but the first listener is the musician.” Both things can exist at once.  Music is a very internal and personal thing. That’s one of the reasons I’m attracted to it. That is especially true for jazz music.  There is no mastering jazz music because there’s no mastering creativity. As long as you’re breathing, there’s something to learn. There’s always another way to be creative about something you’re working on. That is one of the most exciting things. There is no moment when you feel “I finally got it.” Dizzy Gillespie was on his deathbed, still talking about getting better at the instrument, getting better at his craft.

For me, music is a lifelong journey. Even just sitting in that thought takes some pressure off of you because, as long as you’re putting in the effort, you will continue to grow. I’m expanding the way I think, and my different life experiences will inevitably affect my music. I’m excited about what my sound will be ten to fifteen years from now.

Catch Marquis Hill present his newest work at the 2026 Newport Jazz Festival on Sunday August 2, 2026. You can read more about the Festival here. Stay tuned as we continue our extensive pre-coverage of the event. We will also be providing live coverage from Fort Adams. More information about Marquis Hill is available on his website.

Photo credit: Chollette (Orel Chollette)