| Jazz |
Domo Branch and the Grace of Gratitude
There are musicians who play to be heard, and there are those who play to listen, to their own histories, to the echoes of those who came before, to the shared pulse of a living tradition. Domo Branch belongs unmistakably to the second kind.
When a young composer and drummer possesses the rare combination of curiosity, humility, and technical mastery that Branch does, his work becomes less an act of self-promotion than an act of service. His compositions do not place the drum set at the center of the stage as a spectacle of virtuosity. Instead, the instrument becomes a voice among voices, an interpreter, a storyteller, a gentle compass guiding the ensemble toward communion. There is no ego in that approach, only intention. And what the cover of his new album, Hand of Gifts, does not tell you is that Domo Branch is, above all, a melodist. That is his secret, his unmistakable signature: melody as a form of gratitude.
Gratitude is, in fact, the animating spirit of Hand of Gifts. It is not the shallow gratitude of awards or applause, but a more enduring kind, the kind that remembers, that bows its head to the mentors, the neighborhoods, and the histories that made one’s own voice possible. Gratitude, as Branch seems to understand, is an act of both humility and resistance: an acknowledgment of lineage in an era that too often pretends art begins anew each morning.
Branch divides his time between New York and Portland, Oregon, his birthplace and a city that continues to hum quietly beneath his rhythmic language. In both places, he has become a fixture of the modern jazz landscape, a musician of startling emotional range and rhythmic intellect. His résumé reads like a map of the contemporary scene: Wynton Marsalis, the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, Sean Jones, Stefon Harris, Catherine Russell, Terence Blanchard, Dianne Reeves, Taylor Eigsti. Each collaboration adds a facet to his sound: elegance, empathy, edge.
Still, Hand of Gifts feels different. It is not simply another album, it is a meditation, a personal excavation, a celebration of connection. Branch describes it as “a deeply personal journey through memory, movement, and tribute,” and the phrase feels precise. Every track on this record functions as a gesture of thanks, an offering extended backward and outward, to the teachers, to the communities, to the very soil from which jazz continues to grow.
That philosophy is mirrored in the choice of label: Albina Music Trust, the Portland-based nonprofit and community archive dedicated to preserving the city’s Black musical heritage. Named after the historic Albina district, a neighborhood both wounded and resilient, this organization restores not only the sounds but the stories of its people. Branch’s partnership with Albina is not incidental. It is, in itself, a form of artistic alignment: a recognition that music, like memory, must be preserved collectively, lest it vanish into silence.
Marsalis, whose discerning ear for emerging talent is legendary, would have found in Branch a kindred spirit. His presence on the album might have been a natural fit, one could almost imagine the conversation between their horns and drums, a dialogue across generations, but Hand of Gifts needs no external validation. Its coherence lies elsewhere, in the integrity of its ensemble and the generosity of its conception.
Only one composition on the record, “Our Man Bogle,” bears another’s signature, that of Thara Memory, the late trumpeter and educator who looms large in Branch’s personal mythology. The track sits like a hinge within the album, connecting past to present. Around it, Branch’s own pieces unfold with a narrative fluidity that feels both intuitive and meticulously shaped. Surprises emerge not from sudden ruptures, but from subtle shifts, from the way rhythm dissolves into melody, or from the way silence itself seems to breathe between phrases.
Among the most affecting of these tributes is “A Memory,” written in homage to Thara Memory himself. “I wrote it while I was in Paris,” Branch recalls, “thinking, Wow, have I really come this far through music? Mr. Memory wouldn’t believe his eyes!” The melody, tender and searching, borrows from a high-school video he unearthed, his teacher standing before a class, trumpet in hand, playing with that quiet authority only real mentors possess. The piece is not nostalgic; it is restorative. Through it, Branch reclaims those early moments of wonder, translating them into a mature, harmonic language of reverence.
Every artist who creates out of memory must eventually face the tension between the past and the present. For Branch, that tension is not a burden but a current, something to ride rather than resist. Hand of Gifts is not a retro exercise in homage. It is a living document of continuity, proof that jazz remains an evolving, breathing conversation. Branch stands with one foot in the archives and the other in the now, shaping rhythms that carry both the weight of history and the spark of what’s to come.
And that, perhaps, is the essence of his artistry: gratitude not as sentiment, but as practice. To thank is to listen; to remember is to play. Through Hand of Gifts, Domo Branch offers his listeners not merely a collection of compositions, but a map of how to move forward without forgetting where we began.
In a time when art often races toward novelty, Branch slows the tempo and reminds us that evolution can sound like remembrance. His drums don’t demand attention they invite it. His melodies don’t insist on beauty, they reveal it. And when the final notes fade, what lingers is not applause, but a kind of stillness: the hush of recognition, the sound of one musician saying, quietly but unmistakably, thank you.
Thierry De Clemensat
Member at Jazz Journalists Association
USA correspondent for Paris-Move and ABS magazine
Editor in chief – Bayou Blue Radio, Bayou Blue News
PARIS-MOVE, November 10th 2025
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Musicians:
Domo Branch – Drummer, Composer
Russell Hall – Bass
Tyler Henderson – Piano
Abdias Armenterros – Saxophones
Track Listing:
Harlem Nights
Our Man Bogle
Big Moves
A Letter To Peanut
Hand Of Gifts
Drum Solo
Blues For The World (Featuring Abdias Armenteros & Russell Hall)
A Memory
All songs written by Domo Branch
Publishing by TheBranch
“Our Man Bogle” is written by Thara Memory
Publishing by Kumbeno Music
Session production by Domo Branch
Engineer, Mixing & Mastering by Christopher Sulit
Recorded at Trading 8s Recording Studio, 2024
Executive production by Domo Branch & Bobby Smith
Design by Eric W Mast
Photography by Kasia Idzkowska
Videography by Cody Meyers