My 96-year-old father is fond of recounting the story of my very first day playing the saxophone. I was 9 years old, just beginning 5th grade. Mrs. Cunningham, our band teacher, helped us choose instruments. Arrangements were made between parents and local music shops to rent and/or purchase instruments. My father rented a student model Bundy II alto saxophone for me to play from Anderson Music in Dearborn, MI.
As he likes to tell it, I came home from school disgusted and distraught after my initial flailing elicited a series of squeaks, squawks, and cacophony that was anything but musical. I put the instrument back in the case after a few minutes, insisting that I was “…never playing it again!”
As he had already pre-paid for the first 3 or 6 months’ rental fees, he insisted that I would continue playing it for at least as long as the rental agreement.
But, none of this really answers the question, does it? Why the saxophone? The answer that I have given for these past several decades lies in a story that I have shared many times (most likely, apocryphal). It concerns me hearing the music of tenor saxophone legend Dexter Gordon on a local jazz radio program on WDET hosted by Ed Love, a much-revered DJ and jazz guru.
As I remember it, I heard Dexter Gordon, and that sound instantly grabbed me. To my mind, that was simply the way a saxophone was supposed to sound. I was hooked. I needed to try to create a sound like that myself.
Now, there are several holes in this story. First of all, no one in my family listened to public radio like WDET. My mother, a classically-trained pianist and pedagogue, was fond of WQRS, Detroit’s classical station at the time.
My brother, 7 years older, was then in his “classic rock” phase, exploring records by The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Doors, and others. If he listened to the radio, it was to rock stations like WABX and WRIF, both of which were firmly entrenched in all things rawk.
That leaves my father. Interestingly, for all his financial support of my music, he did not listen to much music on his own. He was a chemical salesman, spending a lot of time in his car calling on clients. His radio dial was usually fixed to news radio and the stock report. If he played records at home (a rarity) it was usually some easy listening crooner like Vikki Carr or Tony Martin.
So…back to our question; why did I choose the saxophone? I can vividly remember wanting to start on the tenor because, to my 9-year-old mind, that was the most common horn in jazz. I was told at the time to start on alto since I was too small, and then switch to tenor later after my body developed. (I would not have the opportunity to play tenor until about 10 years later, in college).
The other piece of the puzzle lies in the fact that I knew, even then, that I wanted to play jazz. The impulse was there, intrinsically.
Interestingly, I was not listening to much jazz then, either. My musical tastes at that age, and shortly after, were largely shaped by my Mom’s radio station preference (classical), my brother’s record collection (classic rock), and then later by my best friend’s record collection (progressive rock and new wave).
As my playing developed, I became more serious about improving my skills. I began to ask my private teacher about jazz. That was not her background either. She had had experience playing in dance bands, but was unfamiliar with the music of stalwarts like Charlie Parker, Coleman Hawkins, or Miles Davis.
Finally, for my high school commencement ceremony, I was approached by some musician classmates to see about playing the tune “Take Five,” written by Paul Desmond and made famous by Dave Brubeck. This was my big chance; a public performance in front of a captive audience of teachers, administrators, fellow students, and family members.
There was just one catch; I didn’t know what to play. I promptly went to the nearest location of Harmony House, Detroit’s then-premiere record store chain, and purchased a copy of Dave Brubeck’s album “Time Out” on cassette so that I could familiarize myself with the tune. Most likely, I had some sort of lead sheet to play from (I don’t remember now). But, when it came to taking a solo, I was stumped. So, I chose the option that made sense to me; copy Paul Desmond’s solo, note-for-note. I did not know at the time that this process, known as transcription, is one of the key components for many people to learn jazz. I also did not know that this would be more doorway into a whole new world of musical expression.
It wasn’t long before I found many opportunities to hear jazz performed live. In the fall of 1988 I entered the University of Michigan as an Astronomy major (of all things), and foundered in my first year-and-a-half, overwhelmed by the complexity of college-level physics and calculus, overwhelmed by a large state university with tens of thousands of students, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the campus, and just generally overwhelmed by everything.
My respite, as it usually has been, was music. Student-led groups promoted concerts by big-name, A-level talent at small venues like the Bird of Paradise and The Ark. The university also sponsored concerts in larger venues like the Power Center and Hill Auditorium. So, in the span of a few short years, I got to hear many of the jazz greats, including McCoy Tyner, Billy Taylor, Geri Allen, Dave Holland, Joe Henderson, Sonny Rollins, Michael Brecker, Joanne Brackeen, Wynton Marsalis, Branford Marsalis, Elvin Jones, Monty Alexander, Johnny Griffin, Roy Haynes, and many others. None of these names were known to me just a few years earlier.
By my second year in college, it was clear to me that astronomy was not in my future. So, I changed majors, switching to the School of Music. Here, I was exposed to even more opportunities to hear, study, and perform jazz. Here, there were peers who shared their knowledge with me. In addition, my record collection grew and grew (and continues to grow!), swelling with records by Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, Charles Mingus, John Coltrane, Wayne Shorter and more, as I began to educate myself on this music.
Beyond just listening and attending concerts, I began to transcribe solos. I took classes in jazz improvisation and jazz history. I read biographies of jazz artists. And, I took my first steps towards actually performing jazz-this, while I was studying classical saxophone performance.
Now, 30-plus years out of college, I count myself lucky to have had so many amazing mentors, peers, and opportunities who have helped me along my musical journey. My musical tastes have grown to encompass many other styles of music beyond jazz, classical, and rock. But, it is to jazz that I always return.
There have been many roadblocks and speedbumps along the way. I can’t even count the number of times that I have publicly embarrassed myself on the bandstand at a jam session by forgetting the form of a tune, or botching the melody, or getting lost in the drummer’s solo. (This may or may not have even happened as recently as last night!). But, now I look at it with a different perspective.
For me, jazz is about learning. It is a music of great personal expression that, at its best, can transport both listener and performer into the Flow State. A well-synchronized jazz group can function like a championship basketball team; each member contributing something that creates a whole that is much greater than the sum of its parts.
In addition to being a process of discovery, performing jazz is about confronting my fears. Fear of embarrassment. Fear of imperfection. But, often times, it’s the so-called “imperfections” that make the music interesting. Jazz is kinetic performance art, ephemeral, and created in real time. It is participatory. It fosters a sense of community. It combines the cerebral, the intellectual, and the emotional. It’s about listening. It’s about communicating.
But, ultimately, performing jazz is about creating joy.
I am grateful to have the opportunity to share this joy with others.
