The Power of Storytelling in Jazz

Weaving Tales
Through Jazz

Storytelling is the bridge that connects us to the past, breathes life into the present, and offers a vision for the future. In jazz, every note is a story—of improvisation, inspiration, and connection.

As a musician, I’ve learned that the stories we tell about the music can be as powerful as the music itself, creating a shared experience that transcends the moment.


I often reflect on stories that have shaped my journey. For example, at a recent performance with the Hank Hehmsoth Trio in Georgetown, I shared the story of meeting Burt Bacharach backstage at the Hollywood Bowl, after my year-long world tour with Christopher Cross.

We didn’t dive straight into music. Instead, we chatted about life, creativity, and his reflections on his journey. He shared something that struck me deeply—he said he wished he had studied music more. Can you imagine that? A musical giant who shaped so many timeless melodies still had a desire to learn and grow.

As we spoke, there was a mutual admiration between us. Burt's humility and openness were inspiring, and it felt like we were two musicians on the same path, even if his fame was stratospheric compared to mine. Once that friendship was established, I finally worked up the courage to ask him if his Academy Award winning “Best Song” Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do) was inspired by Jerome Kern’s jazz standard All the Things You Are. His grin and candid admission—“Yeah... I got that from Kern”—was quite a moment. He was a jazz student at Juilliard, so it wasn’t just a coincidence.

It brought to mind that famous Picasso quote: ‘Good artists borrow, great artists steal.,  which always gets a laugh. I put those two tunes together in a little medley so the audience can hear for themselves how the melodies and harmonies echo each other.

Sharing this anecdote not only connects my audience to the song but also highlights how even the greats draw inspiration from those who came before. And being able to perform the music with its story gives it immense impact.


Before playing Corcovado by Antonio Carlos Jobim, I like to set the stage with a story. I start by describing the iconic mountain in Rio de Janeiro with the statue of Christ on top. Even if people don’t know the name Corcovado, they’ve likely seen that breathtaking image.

This tune was originally written for guitar, and it also fits so naturally on the piano. I often compare it to Chopin. As a left-handed pianist, it leads me to share a bit of history.

In Italian classical piano music, the right hand is called manus dei—the hand of God—while the left is manus sinistra—the hand of Satan. (This always gets a laugh.) French composers didn’t do us any favors either, labeling the right hand main droite—the skilled or adroit hand—and the left main gauche, which literally translates to clumsy or awkward.

What’s amazing is how these stories change the way people listen. When they hear Corcovado after learning its history and my personal connection to it, the music resonates in a deeper way. It’s no longer just a song; it’s a shared experience.


Dan Morgenstern, the greatest jazz storyteller of all time, understood this better than anyone. Through his writing and conversations, he didn’t just document the history of jazz—he brought it to life, making you feel like you were there in the room when the magic happened.


Playing Monk always feels special to me, and I love sharing this story before diving into his music. As a Fulbright Senior Specialist in Jazz, I’ve had the incredible privilege of traveling the world to share and perform this amazing art form. One trip, in particular, comes to mind—my visit to Chile. My Spanish? Well, let’s just say it’s a work in progress.
I was speaking to a group, trying to ask, ‘Do you know Thelonious Monk?’—I used a translation app. It ended up translating “Thelonious Monk” as The Loneliest Monk, in Spanish El Monje Solitario. So, it came across like I was asking them, ‘Do you know a lonely monk?’ They thought I was...well, looking for a boyfriend!

Storytelling draws the audience in with humor and my personal anecdote seamlessly transitions into the brilliance of Monk’s music. It also reinforced my global jazz ambassador role, deepening the audience’s connection to both me and the music.


Storytelling sets the stage for powerful musical experiences. By blending personal anecdotes with rich musical legacies, storytelling draws listeners into a deeper connection with the art of jazz.

The power of storytelling in jazz lies in its ability to bridge the music and the listener, creating a shared emotional journey. Whether it’s through personal anecdotes, the legacy of greats like Monk, or the stories embedded in every note and phrase, jazz becomes more than sound—it becomes connection. It’s through these stories that the music breathes, grows, and resonates, inviting us all to become part of its ongoing narrative.

Hank telling Jazz stories at ProJazz Institute, Santiago, Chile

It’s at this point I like to rally the lefties in the crowd: “We southpaws must unite!” (More laughter.) And then I add that left-handed people are often said to be more creative—a little encouragement for my fellow lefties out there.
Storytelling draws the audience into the performance. It connects them not just to the music, but to the moment. And that’s what makes live music so powerful—it’s the stories, not just the notes, that stay with them long after the last chord fades.

⬆️Hear Dan tell his story about the Baroness Pannonica de Konigswarter in my video for the National Endowment for the Arts.


Hank’s Trio Live at the 2nd Annual Monk-a-Thon 2024


Dan’s knack for storytelling brought the history of jazz to life, showing us the humanity behind the music and the personalities that shaped it.

Inspired by Dan’s legacy, I strive to incorporate storytelling into my performances, using personal anecdotes to connect with my audience and deepen their experience of the music.

The power of Storytelling in Jazz is that jazz becomes more than sound—it becomes connection!
— Hank Hehmsoth
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Remembering Dan Morgenstern