Bassoonist Joy Guidry on music as prayer and knowing who she is

On experimental bassoonist, composer and performance artist Joy Guidry's latest album, music is prayer.

"I see each of these songs as prayers — as I see improvisation also as spiritual practice," she said.

Her recordings trace her powerful approach to self-love (2022's "Radical Acceptance") and an exploration of jazz and gospel as a form of healing (2024's "AMEN"). Her latest album, "Five Prayers," was released this year — continuing her experimental approach to music and her study of Black traditions with a mix of jazz and ambient beats.

Guidry said her previous albums captured a time of processing, fighting and persevering. But the new album reflects a new era: music that is rooted in her body and gender transition, while also sustaining her along the way.

Guidry studied bassoon and performance at the Peabody Conservatory and Mannes School of Music, and has performed around the world. Her use of the bassoon is subtle but impactful, an essential backdrop for her richly varied and complex work.

"People should come with no expectations. I'm playing bassoon and synth. I mean, what expectations can you come with for that, you know?"

Guidry will perform Friday at the Silo Room at Bread & Salt, before continuing a tour with dates in the U.S. and Europe.

Interview highlights

On improvising and prayer

Improvising helps me connect a lot to my past — my physical past of just being younger, but also through my ancestry. My family is from Texas and Louisiana, so there's just such a strong sense of improvisation within church: between the preacher, the choir, the movement, everything. It's all — I don't want to say a performance — but it's just all interconnected spiritually.

There was a lot of spiritual intention that went into these songs. To me, spiritual intentions, words that go with that, music that goes with that — that all says a prayer at the end of the day. 

On healing and Black music traditions

From growing up in the South and going to a lot of different forms of Black church — with different forms of Christianity in my family — I got to experience so many different types of gospel choirs, even different types of gospel music. At the end of the day, it all really felt healing to me. So with that, I bring that entire music today — even when it's ambient music, or even if it's a little harsher, really intense noise music and I'm actually just, like, screaming with a bunch of distortion and some heavy bass. It still all feels like it's coming from the same place. Because, you know, gospel music all has the same root.

It feels like my music still is coming from me, so it all has the same root and has that message of healing, no matter how it's coming out. It has really started to feel healing for me as well as for audience members. That has been really, really nice — getting to incorporate so much from my history and ancestry in my music. It's always a healing experience, and always remembering this is the root of my music. My spirituality is the root of my music, and I have to nurture and honor that before I can go on any stage and play the synth, play Ableton, play bassoon — play anything.

On ambient music as race education

But in those spaces of my concerts — trying to provide this space that is very comfortable, very healing — sometimes it has gone in a different direction, where people will come up to me and tell me how the show has healed them. Sometimes what they say is very, very heavy for me to hear. And as an artist, I think it is really, really important that we also have boundaries. We're not here as servants, you know? We are here to share a gift. And I can't share that gift if I don't feel comfortable.

That also plays into a lot of different dynamics of American Black history, with Black women — from enslavement to now — kind of being seen as everyone's mom. Everyone finds comfort in a fat, Black woman. I feel like if I don't say, "Hey, please," and put my foot down and say, "Stop doing that, I'm not your mom," it's just going to keep happening. It's like this other form of race education in America — but through ambient music. 

Cole Douglas

On change

Since "Radical Acceptance," the biggest thing that's changed is I've changed. I've transitioned. And going through a gender transition is something that is just so incredibly difficult in so many ways I never would have imagined. I've always loved myself, but before I transitioned, I was loving a version of myself that I was forced to love — because I didn't know if I would ever have the strength or courage to physically try to make this transition. So a lot of my music was focused on processing that, focused on processing all of the emotional trauma I've gone through and (was) constantly putting myself through.

So that was always just very difficult, and my music had this much grungier take on things. The free jazz I was doing was way, way more radical than what I normally do now. And I love that era. I miss it, honestly.

But as I've gotten further along in my transition, three years later, going through "AMEN" — approaching it was completely different. I could tell a story of where I'm starting to be now on this journey of healing. Instead of focusing on the past so much, I can start to dream of the future. That's why a lot of the songs are so much softer — still have that, honestly, a little bit of a sad quality to it. There's still a strong message of perseverance and a strong message of still fighting for something, fighting for some kind of happiness, fighting for some self-preservation, fighting for self-liberation. All of these different themes that I believe come with gospel music. That's why the theme of "AMEN" was really — it was a gospel. It's things I needed to hear as I'm still swimming through my gender exploration.

And now through "Five Prayers," I feel like I've arrived. I feel so in my body in this really deep, guttural, beautiful way that I wake up and I absolutely know who I am. There is no more question.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.