Take Five with Pianist & Guitarist Justin Fitzgerald

Meet Justin Fitzgerald

I think of myself primarily as a composer, and jazz is my favorite form of music to write. I've always been surrounded by music—my mother was an opera singer before I was born, my wife is a singer, and her father was a skilled guitarist.

I used to perform in restaurants and bars around southern Sydney, but when my wife and I moved away to run a tourist park in our early 30s, that became all-consuming. Composing became my creative outlet.

Writing music was also my outlet when I was diagnosed with cancer in my mid-40s, and it continues to be today. I've had a fair amount of my work placed in TV shows—mostly in Australia, with some streaming overseas. It's mainly background music, but I really enjoy it.

These days, I'm shifting my focus back to jazz and seeing where that takes me.

Instruments:

Piano, guitar.

Teachers and/or influences?

My greatest influence by far was my local piano teacher, Albert Tickner.

I started piano at age eight with a nun at school, Sister Christopher, who seemed about a hundred years old at the time. I still remember her rapping my knuckles with the metal edge of a ruler whenever I made mistakes. By the time I turned 13, I was tired of classical lessons and exams. My neighbor was learning jazz, which sounded a lot more exciting, so I switched to Albert Tickner—and I loved it. He taught me modes, improvisation, chord reading by numbers, and filled notebooks with handwritten classics in thick pencil.

I can still picture his tobacco-stained room above a shop in Caringbah, ashes falling from his roll-your-own cigarettes onto everything—including me. How times have changed.

"Fly Me To The Moon" was the very first piece he gave me.

I knew I wanted to be a musician when...

I realized I didn't want to spend my life working in an office doing the same thing every day. It didn't quite work out that way, but that's okay. I went from being a 14-year-old dreaming of touring the world to a 56-year-old happily sitting in my trackie daks in the early hours, playing and writing in the dark.

Your sound and approach to music.

I see myself first and foremost as a composer, so my process always starts the same way. I sit at the piano, improvise, and let ideas form—maybe a melody, maybe a chord progression, sometimes both. Over time, I'll shape that into a full track.

Right now, I'm focusing on a traditional quartet setup—piano, sax, bass, and drums—so I can concentrate on the music itself without getting distracted by new sounds. I often work on several tracks at once, moving between them depending on my mood or how each one is developing. Sometimes I'll even "Frankenstein" a track—I'll take a bunch of 8-bar phrases, put them all in the same key, and stitch them together just to see what happens.

Your teaching approach

I haven't done a lot of teaching, but when I do, I try to keep it simple and focus on helping students play what excites them. I took lessons for about 10 years before I was ever allowed to choose a piece I actually wanted to learn. Times have changed, but back then you stuck to the syllabus. If you wanted to learn something different, you had to dig through the sheet music at a store and hope to find something inspiring.

Your dream band

I'd love to have Bill Evans—though then there'd be no room for me! Sonny Rollins and Ray Brown would be incredible additions.

And if I could sneak in Brad Paisley and Darius Rucker, I wouldn't mind a bit of country in the mix—it'd make for an interesting band.

Road story: Your best or worst experience

Two stand out. One time, I was asked to play in the foyer of the Sharks Leagues Club before a major game. I was excited—they had what looked like a nice grand piano. First disappointment: the "grand" was just a hollow shell with a cheap keyboard jammed inside.

Still, I started playing, cycling through some jazz standards as people streamed in. A few mates passed by, then suddenly, Peter Gow—the club's CEO at the time and Elle MacPherson's father—walked down the stairs snapping his fingers and yelled, "Hey, play something snappy!" I still get ribbed about that one.

Another time, my wife's family's pub had their own band, The Maxys, and I'd sometimes play solo on Friday afternoons before they started. Probably not the ideal time for instrumental jazz piano in a pub full of tradies, but it went okay. One particularly rowdy group started heckling me—"Play some Chisel! Play some Acca Dacca!"—while one guy moonwalked in high-vis shorts, dropping his false teeth (why he had dentures in his 30s, I'll never know).

Later that night, the same guy came up quietly and said, "Acker Bilk—'Stranger On The Shore.' I've always loved that song. I used to listen to it with my mum—great memories."

Jazz is universal.

Favorite venue

Our backyard veranda.

Your favorite recording in your discography and why?

Vince Jones' On The Brink Of It. I still love that album. It makes me nostalgic for my school days when I first heard it. A good friend gave it to me when we were about 16, and I played it to death.

What do you think is the most important thing you are contributing musically?

I'm not sure. I'm not reinventing the wheel—I just try to write melodies that are engaging, with solid chord progressions and interesting drum work, while keeping things simple. As my wife likes to say, "It's not rocket surgery."

Did you know...

I'm also into bonsai and make my own rocks for my trees (great conversation starter, right?).

I've actually made more money at a market selling homemade rocks than from royalties for a track placed on a Netflix show.

The first jazz album I bought was:

Vince Jones On The Brink Of It

Music you are listening to now:

Dave Gilmour's Luck and Strange and revisiting Chick Corea's Akoustic Band.

Desert Island picks:

I'd take my "Mowing Music" playlist from my phone. Here are some of the artists, in no particular order: Oscar Peterson, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Baby Animals, Hilltop Hoods, Vince Jones, Harry Manx, Chick Corea, Cold Chisel, George Benson, Massive Attack, Brad Paisley, Bill Evans, Miles Davis... It's a weird mix.

How would you describe the state of jazz today?

I can't speak for overseas, but from where I live—a small rural town—it's pretty quiet. We're lucky to have a local theatre that hosts some great acts, including Vince Jones (he lives here), but there's not much jazz otherwise.

Most people say they like jazz, but I'm not sure they all know what that really means. I don't think younger generations get much, if any, exposure to it. Back in the '80s, even if you weren't a jazz fan, you'd hear it in TV and film soundtracks, which could spark curiosity.

A lot of today's popular acoustic-based music doesn't emphasize musicianship—there are rarely guitar or piano solos—so listeners don't make those connections to jazz.

I probably sound old, but in the '80s there was still that "Wow, that guitarist is incredible!" kind of excitement—the sort of reaction that can lead someone to discover jazz. I don't hear that as much today.

What are some of the essential requirements to keep jazz alive and growing?

Exposure—and lots more of it. It's sorely lacking. Jazz has nearly disappeared from film and television. A sync company I once submitted to even told me they had "no use" for my jazz tracks.

During Covid, I took an online electronic music course taught by some really accomplished musicians—the oldest was in his 40s. When the topic of time signatures came up, I mentioned "Take Five" (hardly obscure), and no one had heard of it until someone said, "Oh, that's the video clip for 'Golden Brown' on YouTube!"

We take a young woman with disabilities to a nearby club because she enjoys the atmosphere. There's always music playing on the screens, but it's always the same—"bearded guy on a mountain with an acoustic guitar."

And our local radio station? I'm convinced they own stock in Phil Collins—that's all they play.

What is in the near future?

Lately I've been writing orchestral music for libraries, which has been great, but I've really enjoyed recording this album, *Justin Fitzgerald & Next Collective*, and returning to the music I truly love. My plan is to do it again—to keep creating my own little jazz projects for the foreseeable future.

What is your greatest fear when you perform?

I've never been a natural performer. Even when I was young, I didn't love being on stage—I get nervous and sometimes disappointed if it's not perfect. I remember being 14, asked to play a few pieces at my school's Speech Night. It was a big all-boys school, a large crowd, and I was alone on stage with a grand piano I'd never played before.

The first piece, "Georgia," went fine. The second—a Fats Waller tune—not so much. The sheet music was set higher than I was used to, and I lost my place. It didn't go well, and that memory stuck with me.

What song would you like played at your funeral?

I'm being cremated, so Harry Manx's version of Bruce Springsteen's "I'm On Fire." And yes, I've already discussed it with my wife.

What is your favorite song to whistle or sing in the shower?

Right now, it's Dave and Romany Gilmour's "Between Two Points." I love the guitar solo at the end.

By Day:

These days, I help my wife with her disability support business. Before that, we managed tourist parks for about 20 years—which gives you quite an education in human behavior. I've also dabbled in gardening, landscaping, maintenance, worked in pubs, and even as a surveyor's assistant.

If I weren't a jazz musician, I would be a:

Jack of all trades—which, honestly, is what I am. And I'm comfortable with that.

If I could have dinner with anyone from history, who would it be and why?

Any of the jazz greats from the '50s would be amazing, but honestly, I'd rather share dinner with my friends and relatives who've passed. That would mean more than anything.

If I could go back in time and relive an experience, what would it be?

I'd relive it all—this whole life—but with my wife by my side and the wisdom I have now.

What's the song or piece of music you wish you could hear again for the first time?

Oscar Peterson's "C Jam Blues."

McDonalds and KFC Chips?

Maccas. KFC chips are always soggy.

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