“If you feel like you’ve figured it out, that’s probably when you’ve stopped getting it.”

—Bryan Eng

For Bryan Eng, jazz is not something fixed in the past. It is a living language, constantly pushed forward by those willing to stretch it and reshape it into something new. A New York–based pianist, singer, and performer whose work moves between jazz and cabaret, with a grounding in theater, Eng belongs to a generation of artists helping reframe what these traditions can look and feel like now. His performances carry a rare mix of technical precision and warmth, grounded in a sense of presence that draws people in without insisting.

Although he first encountered jazz toward the end of high school, following a classical foundation, it was not until after college that he began to understand it more deeply, beyond sound, as a lineage and a way of thinking. Since then, his relationship to the music has become more deliberate, guided by the way he listens and returns to it over time. He speaks about transcription as a form of devotion rather than a mere academic exercise, listening closely enough to inhabit another artist’s phrasing and touch, until it begins to live within your own.

That depth of study is part of what makes Eng compelling. Yet what is just as striking is what he holds onto. For him, it’s when the music opens something up, giving people a moment to soften, to breathe a little more easily. In a cultural moment saturated with speed, Eng’s work feels rooted in a different value system, one that still makes room for beauty and curiosity.

“Because life is lived in art. Life is lived in beauty. A life without beauty is meaningless to me.”

Choe: You’ve been a resident performer at Bemelmans Bar, a space defined by figures like Bobby Short. What parts of that legacy do you carry with you, and where do you bring in your own voice?

Eng: What I really love about Bobby Short’s legacy is the showmanship. He was playful with the audience, playful with his voice, playful with the way he presented the music. It was welcoming. It made sure that whether or not people understood the intricacies of the music, they had a good time. That’s something I always try to carry with me. Not everyone is going to understand the bebop scale or every harmonic thing that’s happening, but they’ll know if they had a good time.

Choe: It feels like that’s what people leave with—a sense of joy.

Eng: It is. Not every jazz musician is interested in that, and that’s fine. But that part of the tradition matters to me.

Choe: Was there a moment that changed the way you approached music?

Eng: A lot of moments like that happen all the time. I hope they never stop happening. But one that really stayed with me was with my mentor Emmet Cohen. We spent almost an entire lesson on one chord. The whole lesson was about touch, about how the melody note could ring out, about being conscious of the pressure behind every single note. It sounds small, but it opened up a lot for me. It taught me that what separates people who are good from people who are really great are those micro-details.

Choe: That kind of closeness to sound feels connected to the way you talk about transcription as well.

Eng: Totally. In my opinion, that’s how you learn jazz piano. There are no shortcuts. You listen to a recording, learn every single note by ear, memorize it, and then keep going deeper. You play along with it again and again until the phrasing, the harmony, the touch, all of it starts to live inside of you. It’s simple, but it’s not easy.

Choe: We also talked a lot about creativity. Especially now, when everything feels increasingly automated, why does art still matter so much to you?

Eng: Because life is lived in art. Life is lived in beauty. A life without beauty is meaningless to me. I think we’re being sold this idea that life is better lived by automating everything, outsourcing everything, optimizing every second. But creativity exists in all modes of being. If we lose curiosity, what’s left?

Choe: You’ve been open about your faith. How has that played a role in your path?

Eng: It’s everything. I don’t see any of this as self-generated. My gifts, my teachers, my parents, the opportunities I’ve had, all of it comes from God. Realizing that gave me a sense of freedom. At one point, I was told not to share my faith publicly because it might turn people off, but the opposite happened. A lot of people found courage in it. That meant a lot to me.

Choe: What drives you now?

Eng: Part of it is wanting to embody something beautiful enough that people can feel it. But another big part is representation. I think about my grandmother a lot. I think about what she endured, what she made possible. And I think about younger Asian American kids being able to look at someone and say, actually, maybe I can do that too.

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Bryan Eng is a New York–based artist whose work moves between jazz, cabaret, and theater. His practice is shaped by a deep engagement with jazz tradition and live performance, extending across both the stage and the bandstand. He has appeared at venues including Jazz at Lincoln Center, Birdland, and the Kennedy Center, and is the youngest resident performer in the history of the Carlyle Hotel, where he leads his Circle Room Trio.

Bryan Eng

@THEBRYANENG
BRYANENG.com