The Andy Nowak Trio

Led by pianist Nowak, this Bristol-based band play a combination of original compositions and striking re-workings of jazz standards with effervescence and flair, drawing on the hard swing of Oscar Peterson, the quasi-classical inventions of Brad Mehldau and the atmospheric ideas of Esbjörn Svensson. Beautiful and unexpected twists and turns are the hallmark of this highly empathic and musically adventurous trio. With Spencer Brown (double bass) and Matt Fisher (drums).

Watch YouTube footage of the trio via their website here and listen to more from the trio's first album here

Admission - 7 / 6 (concession)

"...sparkles impressively...sequence of originals offers an increasingly attractive blend of crystalline serenity and snappy incisiveness"
London Jazz

"Lovely compositions and inventive playing...Watch out for this guy!"
Jason Rebello, pianist

"…both intelligent and highly melodic and features an unfailingly high standard of musicianship throughout…deserves to be widely heard"
The Jazz Mann

"Andy's adventurous Bristol 3 piece has been garnering outstanding reviews...imaginative small group piano jazz"
The Musician magazine


*PLEASE NOTE*: details of concerts and musicians appearing are correct at the time of writing although changes are sometimes necessary. Please feel free to check with us before attending.






Somebody who decides to play jazz for a living knows he will struggle for the rest of his life, unless he opts for predictable and soothing compromise. Honest jazz involves public exploration. It takes guts to make mistakes in public, and mistakes are inherent. If there are no mistakes, it's a mistake. In Keith Jarrett's solo improvisations you can hear him hesitate, turn in circles for a while, struggle to find the next idea. Bird used to start a phrase two or three times before figuring out how to continue it. The heart and soul of improvisation is turning mistakes into discovery. On the spot. Now. No second draft. It can take a toll night after night in front of an audience that just might be considering you shallow.

From 'Close Enough For Jazz', Mike Zwerin (1983)


Now, divine air! Now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.

From 'Much Ado About Nothing' (Act II, Scene iii), William Shakespeare (1600)


Onstage, he storms inwardly, glaring at his audience, wincing at his trumpet, stabbing and tugging at his ear. Often his solos degenerate into a curse blown again and again through his horn in four soft beats. But Miles can break hearts. Without attempting the strident showmanship of most trumpeters, he still creates a mood of terror suppressed - a lurking and highly exciting impression that he may some day blow his brains out playing.

Barry Farrell, writing in Time Magazine (February 28 1964)