There’s something undeniably special about spontaneous moments in music – those fleeting instances when everything aligns, and you create something that feels like out of this world. I recently experienced this firsthand again at Drakon Bar, a hidden gem tucked away in the heart of Vienna. The venue itself feels like a secret you stumble upon, small and intimate, with warm lighting that wraps you up in its cozy embrace. But it wasn’t just the setting that made the night unforgettable – it was the music.
That night, the live jazz band filled the room with a rich energy. It wasn’t just about playing notes, the musicians were communicating, crafting stories in real time, exchanging glances that spoke volumes without a single word.
I found myself being drawn into the music. Suddenly, I was part of the magic – not with an instrument in hand, but using my voice to add another layer to the tapestry being woven around us. That invitation wasn’t planned, but that’s the beauty of a jam session. It thrives on spontaneity and instinct, and in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Singing in a jam session is a unique experience. Every note I sang was a response to the ebb and flow of the musicians around me, and every breath was an exchange of energy. I was telling a story, pouring emotion into each word as we all created something together that couldn’t have existed anywhere else. In that moment, the music wasn’t just mine. It belonged to all of us, a collective creation born out of the spontaneity of the night.
What makes these moments so unique is their unpredictability. No two jam sessions are ever the same. There’s no rehearsal, no setlist, and no script. You don’t know what’s going to happen next, and that’s exactly what makes it magical. Singing with these talented jazz musicians felt like a conversation—one that transcended language, where the melody became the dialogue and the rhythm set the tone.
These moments are what make music so powerful. There’s no pretense, no ego. It’s pure, unfiltered love and expression, and for a few moments, the audience and the musicians are connected by the same emotional current.
If you weren’t there to experience it, I’ve captured a glimpse of that night in Vienna in the video below. Watching it will never fully replicate the energy and emotion that filled Drakon that evening, but I hope it offers a window into the energy we created—a reminder of how music can make us feel connected, understood, and alive.