What happens when a lifelong jazz fan takes the leap from simply listening to actually writing about the music? Tim Larsen’s story offers a glimpse…
A record collector since the Pat Boone era, he discovered Horace Silver in a discount bin, a moment that sparked decades of deep listening.
Today, he channels that passion into writing reviews which are published at Jazz Views, bringing a fan’s ear and a writer’s curiosity to the music he loves.
In this interview, Tim shares how reviewing changed the way he listens, what’s different about the jazz world since his DJ days in the 1970s, and why he believes honesty and respect are more important than technical jargon.
His reflections are a reminder that you don’t need to be a professional musician to contribute meaningfully to the conversation around jazz—you just need open ears, dedication to writing, and a love for the music.
What’s your earliest memory of jazz?
I’ve been a lifelong record collector. I still remember the first record I ever bought—Pat Boone’s “Speedy Gonzalez.” That should give you a pretty good idea of when I started.
I probably heard some Benny Goodman or Louis Armstrong around the house, but nothing really stuck. It wasn’t until I found Horace Silver’s Blowin’ the Blues Away in a cutout bin that something clicked.
Up to that point, it was all rock & roll for me. That Horace Silver record cracked the door open.
You’ve been a jazz fan for decades — how does writing reviews change or deepen your experience of listening to music?
Before I started writing reviews, I listened to a lot of jazz—but mostly in the background.
I’d put a record on while making dinner, doing the dishes, folding laundry. It was a great soundtrack, but I wasn’t really listening in a focused way.
I still have jazz playing in the background, but now I find myself picking out individual parts—the bass line, the ride cymbal, a comping pattern.
Maybe I always did, but I’m more aware of it now. Writing reviews has made me listen with more intention, even when I’m not trying to.
You were a jazz radio DJ in the 1970s; how has the music scene changed since then in your opinion?
There were no streaming services in the 1970s. It was all physical media.
If you wanted to hear something, you had to track down the record—at a store, on the radio, or by borrowing it from someone. Now, anyone can stream a Norwegian jazz trio ten minutes after their album drops.
Back then, DJs, critics, and record store clerks were the curators. That still exists to some extent, but the human touch feels different now. Algorithms don’t get excited and shove a record into your hands the way a record store clerk would.
The role of jazz labels has changed, too. Blue Note, Prestige, Contemporary—those used to be signposts. You’d buy an album just because of the label. These days, a lot of artists self-release or work with small boutique labels.
And vinyl—vinyl was the main event.
New releases were a big deal. Album covers mattered. Liner notes mattered. That’s coming back a bit, but not everyone owns a turntable anymore. Back then, the whole package was part of the experience
What’s your process for reviewing a new release — from first listen to finished review? How do you choose which albums to review and which to decline?
I always start with research.
I’ll read the press release, dig up the artist’s bio, check out any previous recordings—just get as much background as I can before I start writing.
Then I listen to the album a few times at home, just to get a feel for it. I also like listening in the car—something about that setting gives me a different perspective.
Eventually, I’ll sit down with headphones and go track by track, taking notes the whole time. Those notes are essential when I’m writing. Sometimes your reaction to a piece is very different from what the press release suggests.
One important thing: spellings. I double- and triple-check the spelling of everyone involved. A musician can handle a lukewarm review, but nobody wants to see their name spelled wrong.
As for what I choose to review—it has to be something I like. Would I want to hear it again? Does it bring something new to the table? If it’s a piano trio, is it saying something fresh? Same with a saxophone quartet—what sets it apart?
There are so many new releases out there, and just because I don’t connect with something doesn’t mean it isn’t meaningful to someone else. If I don’t like a record, I just won’t review it. I’m not interested in tearing down something someone clearly put their heart and soul into.
Are there any common traps you try to avoid when writing reviews?
I try not to just echo the press release.
It’s easy to fall into that, but I try to stick with what I actually hear. I also avoid getting too technical—which, for me, isn’t hard since I’m not a musician. I’m writing for people who want to know if the music is worth their time.
I always try to keep the focus on the music, not on me. And I try to be honest, thoughtful, and respectful—especially toward the people who made the record.
You interviewed Art Pper and his wife Laurie for the documentary “Notes From A Jazz Survivor” – how was that experience?
I was friends with the director—we both went to the University of Minnesota. He’d been working with Art and Laurie for a couple of weeks and asked if I wanted to come along and help out. We recorded at one of the jazz clubs on the beach in L.A., and also at their home.
Their house was tiny, and it wasn’t in a great part of the city. I remember Laurie telling me she couldn’t leave plants out on the porch because they’d be gone by morning.
I was a huge fan of Art’s—I had all his records—and I honestly couldn’t understand why he wasn’t living in a big house in the Hollywood Hills.
Laurie kind of intimidated me. She had a strong presence. It was clear she ran the household, and I think Art was perfectly fine with that. I remember him drinking instant coffee the whole time we were there. He liked being home. He had his methadone, his horn, and a basketball team he liked to watch on TV.
One moment that really stuck with me—we were all sitting in that small living room, listening to Winter Moon, the album he’d just put out, with him playing alto alongside an orchestra. He was so proud of it. He said, “I don’t know what else to do to top this.”
I feel really lucky to have spent that time around Art Pepper. He’ll always be one of my very favorite alto players.
Have there been any albums you initially didn’t love, but grew to appreciate more through the process of reviewing them?
I’m pretty good at knowing what I like right away. But spending time with an album—really listening, track by track—can definitely help me appreciate it more.
I might not fall in love with it, but I’ll start to understand what the artist was going for, or notice details I missed the first time. Sometimes the respect grows, even if the emotional connection doesn’t.
Is there a particular review you’ve written that you’re especially proud of?
Yes and no. Sometimes I’ll be really happy with how a review turns out—feel like I nailed it. Then I’ll go back a couple of weeks later and find all sorts of things I could have said better. I think the best critic of your own work is yourself.
What advice would you give to another lifelong jazz fan who’s curious about reviewing but isn’t sure where to start?
You’ve probably been reading other people’s reviews and thinking, I’d like to do that. Do that and imagine you writing the review in your own voice.
I read every book I could find about how to improve my writing. If you read just one, make it Write Tight: Say Exactly What You Mean with Precision and Power by William Brohaugh.
There are a lot of online writing courses out there—feel free to explore them, but don’t spend a bunch of money. The best writing course is writing. Just start reviewing. The more you do it, the easier it gets.
And don’t get hung up waiting for someone to tell you you’re good. I remember how badly I wanted someone to read my early reviews and say, You’re a good writer. But the truth is, you’re your own best critic.
After a while, you’ll know whether you’re writing something worth reading. Trust your own ears—and your own judgment.
Big thanks to Tim for taking the time to answer these questions. And, or course, for adding another important voice to the jazz media scene.