Big band leader left his mark on the music world
Rodger Fox, big band leader, jazz trombonist, arranger, producer, promoter, educator, and tireless advocate for music in New Zealand, has died. One of New Zealand’s bestknown musicians, Rodger passed away on May 27 at the age of 71 following a brief illness.
His impact on music education in New Zealand, having inspired several generations of musicians across the country, is second to none. His work in bringing internationally known artists to New Zealand for tours has filled venues with people of all ages for decades from Kerikeri to Invercargill and everywhere in between. His dedication to promoting jazz, blues, and related musical styles over the last 50 years carved out space for this music to thrive in the cultural life of New Zealand. He recorded and released 44 albums in the course of his career, including both studio and live recordings.
A legend of New Zealand jazz, Rodger’s accomplishments and accolades are many. He was appointed an Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit (ONZM) in 2003, and a Companion of the New Zealand Order of Merit (CNZM) in 2022. He was granted an honorary doctorate (DMus) from Massey University in 2005, and received the Aotearoa Music Award (Tūī) for Best Jazz Album five times.
He took great pride in bringing international artists on tours of New Zealand with the Rodger Fox Big Band, including saxophonist Michael Brecker, vocalist Diane Schuur, drummer Steve Gadd, and countless others. In 1980 his big band performed at the Montreaux Jazz Festival in Europe, becoming the firstever New Zealand band to be invited to perform at an international jazz festival. Since then, he repeatedly toured his band for performances and recordings overseas, in recent years at the Monterey Jazz Festival, at the Jazz Educators Network conference in New Orleans, and for a recording at Bunker Studios in New York.
The border closures of the Covid-19 pandemic didn’t slow Rodger down, but instead motivated him to work even more closely with New Zealand artists across stylistic boundaries. He had already developed a long-standing collaboration with concert pianist Michael Houstoun, which he expanded, and added projects featuring operatic tenor Simon O’Neill, the music of Dave Dobbyn, and a set of compositions for his big band inspired by the poetry of Hone Tuwhare.
On May 29, New Zealand Parliament acknowledged the death of “jazz legend Rodger Fox CNZM” and expressed “condolences to his family, friends, loved ones, and the many people that Rodger touched and mentored over the years.” Speaker of the House Gerry Brownlee stated for the Parliamentary Record: “The man was an absolute icon. I followed him for a long time. His final concert was actually here in Parliament two weeks ago, and he brought along 24 young musicians who he was tutoring – a fantastic legacy that he leaves, with so many that he has tutored over the years.”
Rodger was the loved son of the late Louis and Betty Fox, who introduced him to music. He was the beloved partner of Erna, father of Kerryann, and a brother much loved by his siblings Tony, Margy, Elizabeth, Christopher and Felicity, and by their families.
As word spread about his passing, and tributes were shared among musicians whose lives he had impacted, a common theme emerged. “I thought Rodger was going to live forever,” one musician commented. Another said: “It seems irrational, but I felt like he was immortal.” The idea of New Zealand music without Rodger Fox, for many, is unthinkable.
Part of the reason it is difficult for musicians to imagine life without Rodger is that he directly introduced many of them to the possibility of a career in music through his work in education. For decades he travelled the country to high schools and high school festivals, educating young people in the music he loved, and providing examples of what a life in music can look like. For so many musicians, his generosity, his encouragement, and his ongoing work has been inseparable from their careers, their artistry, and their craft.
Another reason is because his enthusiasm for the music was so immense that he was seemingly everywhere. His presence was so strong that he had become a fixture in the broader landscape of New Zealand music, perhaps even an institution. When a presence so strong passes on, we are left with a gaping hole no one person could ever fill.
Rodger’s passion was music, and he wanted to share that passion with as many people as possible, so they could experience the joy that music brought to him. To watch him work was to see someone who had mastered the skill of bringing out the best in any musician, from the teenager with just six months of trumpet practice behind her to the most seasoned professional he had invited from overseas.
Over the last eight years I worked closely with him, mostly in education spaces at the New Zealand School of Music-Te Kōkī and at high school festivals and workshops around the country. In every setting he found a way to be in his element: performing and speaking with excitement, laughing and smiling with a twinkle in his eye, and thriving as he worked to overcome challenges and solve problems. He brought his joy and passion to the stage, the classroom, the recording studio, and to all the “hangs” at restaurants where he loved to enjoy good food, drink red wine, and tell stories full of charm and boisterous laughter. (He also was an excellent cook, in the rare moments he was near a kitchen with enough spare time to prepare food.)
People consistently approached him to shake his hand and greet him with admiration: high school teachers, students, venue staff, event organisers, baggage handlers at regional airports, and of course staff at his favourite restaurants, especially his beloved Green Parrot Cafe in
Wellington. His response was always one of warmth, laughter, and connection. He was a man of the people, never too proud to share who he was, and what he loved, with anyone.
In 2021 Rodger and I spent a week in Blenheim adjudicating the Southern Jam Youth Jazz Festival, around the time the kayaker Lisa Carrington had won three gold medals at the Tokyo Olympics. “Man, I love watching that Lisa Carrington compete,” he told me at dinner over a few red wines. “You know I’ve met her,” he said, beaming with pride, “and she’s got this incredible drive, you can see it in her eyes, that singular focus that she’s fully dedicated to above everything else. I’m not surprised she’s winning gold. I really admire her.”
As he spoke about Carrington, I realised that Rodger was, in a way, describing himself. To him, there was no other way to live than to be singularly focused on music, and to pursue his goals of sharing the music he loved with others, above all else. He admired others with that focus, and was always gently pointing younger musicians in directions where they could find their own singular focus and nurture their own specific passions. Often, when he of knew a younger musician working up a big recording session, an album release, or a significant performance, he would send them a note the day before the event, wishing them the best and recognising the hard work they had done to get to that point.
Rodger Fox is a singular figure in the history of New Zealand music whose on-stage charisma, passion for music, and commitment to younger generations will likely never be matched. But one of the lessons of Rodger’s life is that attempting to match him or duplicate his life’s work would be missing the point. In being unapologetically Rodger Fox, he showed us that it is possible for each of us to be unapologetically ourselves, full of enthusiasm for what we love and sharing the joy it brings us with others.
Any of the thousands of people who’ve worked with Rodger will know that his text messages ended with an email-style signature that always felt more like a selfdescription: Best Rodger.
I think, at some level, he knew he was the trying to be the best Rodger that he could possibly be. If each of us can be our best selves and share our passions with others as sincerely as he did, I think we’ll find that Rodger Fox hasn’t died after all. He lives on forever, as we thought he would, in all the moments that we share the things that give us life with others that we encounter.
Thank you, old friend, for all that you have given of yourself. It remains with us, and we now pass it along to others, with love for you, from all of us.
– By Dave Wilson