What it was like
You grew up hearing jazz leak out of somebody's window on a summer night. Not a performance, just a sound that meant the neighborhood was breathing. A saxophone through a screen door. A bass line low enough to feel through the sidewalk. Then one day it was not there anymore.
This is the city trying to put it back. Seventeen days, the first time Los Angeles has ever run a citywide jazz festival, with the city itself as the venue: over a hundred and seventy-five free concerts, a run of them in public parks in neighborhoods that rarely get a stage, a hundred and fifty nights inside small venues and restaurants owned by women and people of color, and a closing weekend on the sand at Dockweiler where the Pacific handles the reverb.
Across Los Angeles in August, most of it free, schedules posted online.
The music never actually left. Go stand where somebody put it back outside.