There’s
something special about saxophone music they tell me. Smooth, sensuous, sultry,
even sexy – that’s often what people, well, women mostly, say when they hear
I’ve taken up the instrument and it’s true.
When
you come to a seductive scene in a film or play, when the heroine lies back on
the chaise longue, arranges her dress to maximal effect and begins to pout you
don’t get the shrill, piercing tones of the trumpet, or the thunder of a tuba.
The sound track normally relies on the sensitivity of the sax man to supply
something to suitable to encourage the mood, something soothing for the senses.
Yes,
I can relate to that, but it’s not why I took it up.
My Musical Awakening
At the age of 8,
back in 1956, with a bunch of local kids, we pretended to be 16 so we could see
the ”A”-rated “Rock Around the Clock” and suddenly the world was a more
exciting place. Wherever the film was
shown audiences went wild. The joy, the fun and wild abandonment in that song were
just what those of us who had lived through the dreary post war gloom of the
early 50s were waiting for.
The title song
by Bill Haley and his Comets featured Rudi on sax. A born showman, he would
climb up on the double base whilst playing, or roll on the floor. All the rock
‘n’ roll bands of the 50s would feature a sax soloist and Little Richard, whose
thumping piano was a tour de force had a sax man who would jump on to the grand
piano to perform his solo with extra panache.
Then came the
60s, the music developed and changed, the Beatles, psychadelia, ”progressive” rock
and the emergence of the guitar hero … throughout the land we who loved the
music would sit around in groups, large or small, to sing the songs of the day
while someone who had a guitar would strum some accompaniment. I did some strumming but did not graduate to
guitar hero status. Au contraire, my friends would pass me the guitar as a sign that
the evening was drawing to a close and that only the bold or tone deaf would
remain.
There is so much one can do but so little time…
To be honest it
wasn’t really necessary to be a guitar hero to enjoy life as a medical student
in Glasgow. In those days possessing a record player (who remembers the HMV Dansette?)
or tape recorder showed a serious commitment to musical appreciation. Much later, with a wife of proven musical
ability (she even taught music in addition to general teaching) I watched with
amazement as my daughter mastered every instrument she could get hold of and as
we ran up a substantial bill of rather expensive ones I thought I must give at
least some of them a try.
The piano is
many people’s first instrument. It has the great advantage of having the notes laid
out in ascending order and a fairly simple system to help you know which one’s
which (short of writing the name of the note on each key, but I’ve known people
do that).
So - I try the
piano, with the same teacher my daughter had. (Interesting point: when
strumming the guitar it wasn’t cool to have teachers although I now know that
some of them did and, even more uncool, actually practiced when no one was
watching.)
I was pleased
that my wife had suggested the teacher: a young woman, with ample bosom, fond
of low necklines and reaching across me whilst I was playing to turn the page.
I was surprised and delighted when she invited me to perform at her Christmas
show – “all my student’s perform – it’s for Save the Children”. So I did and took my turn as the second
adult. All of the children were
brilliant. The first adult was an
embarrassment, so I went to the piano stool in a state of mild stress.
Once I started
playing a natural calm came over me – the joy, musicians say, of being in the
groove, doing it right, feeling the music speak for you. Then, oh dear, cardinal
sin! You should be looking at the musical score on the sheet in front of you
and not at your hands; you should know where they are but when you’re new to
the game you learn by your mistakes. I had, through much practice, learned the
piece off by heart and did not need to read the music. I glanced down to look
at the keyboard to see an extra pair of hands! Incredible – really incredible – they were mine. I’ve only got one pair
and the extra pair was facing the wrong way. A microsecond later I realised that as I was playing a highly polished
grand piano unlike the matt finished upright at home. I was watching a
reflection of my own hands but it had knocked me out of the groove. I kept the rhythm and base line going with the
left hand, added some nice, improvised touches with the right and sat down to
polite applause. My wife kindly commented that I had done well as I had started
and finished and no-one else knew what it was supposed to sound like.
Dammed by faint
praise I wondered if I was destined to be a musical entertainer or if I should
redouble my efforts to win the London Marathon.
If it’s good it comes round again
Late 70s. Popular
music changes and the sax comes round again. Reggae, Ska, Madness, The
Specials, UB40 – the sax is back! And it comes round and round again, and again,
and again. It’s now 2009 and I’m a keen supporter of the Teenage Cancer Trust (I
took up medicine after being treated for a neuroblastoma). They put on great
fund raising shows and I take the family to see Madness at the Royal Albert
Hall.
Thrilled by the
powerful deep resonance of the opening notes of “Night Boat to Cairo” we get home
and I say “Where’s the saxophone? – I can do that!” Helen was happy to show me the notes but to
point out that she plays an alto which is an octave (technical term) higher and
that I really needed a baritone (as pictured) to get the full impact the music
deserves. Yes, there is something to good music with charms as the immortal
bard said to calm the savage beast (or was it breast?) or, more to my liking,
to liven up the party. I kept trying to get the elusive note until Helen, with
the annoying turn of phrase that might strike a chord, announced “Put it down
Dad, you’ll break it”.
So I did and
forgot about it, but – life is so full of surprises – my commitment must have
shown through and she gave me a baritone sax next Christmas. She knew a couple
who met through joining a band and after their marriage they decided that they didn’t both need a baritone – so one went
cheaply.
I had planned to retire at 60 and I’m now 63. They
say that they can’t replace me but now they’re going to have to. I have a new raison d’être. I have found a teacher who has been an old
pro with stories of the hardship of professional musicians that make me
grateful to be an amateur. Here’s an example. Question: a violinist and pianist
hail a cab – who’s the professional musician? Answer: the cab driver. (The
point being that many professionals are so keen to perform they’ll play for
peanuts.)
He’s the second
teacher I’ve had. My first teacher, at
the local Art Centre, was strange. With the sax had come the present of a
booklet of fingering positions so that you know where the individual notes are. It meant I knew something. He started by
asking “How many notes can you play?” I had studied the book and knew eight. “Good”,
he says, “what are they?” and he goes to the piano and hits a few chords. “Play
one!” he shouts, then “Play another!”, then “Improvise!” That‘s like telling someone to “talk!” We can all do it but some do it
better than others.
Improvisation is the cornerstone of jazz – freedom,
creativity, expression … but there are rules
Dave Brubeck, a
jazz legend, when asked in a recently broadcast interview if there were rules
that constrain the freedom of improvisation replied “Hundreds, and if you break
any one of them those guys will never jam with you again”.
Wow! Almost as
bad as work. But having overcome the nerves of being taught again at 60 (lifelong
learning sounds good but it is
embarrassing seeing children doing better than you) I joined a “beginners band”
and we have fun. We play easy stuff that
sounds good and more challenging stuff that can sound good on the night. Best
of all, we play a bit of Rock ‘n’ Roll. The opening number of all our gigs is
‘Shake Rattle and Roll’ – an anthem of domestic bliss, up tempo and fun, fun,
fun.
I also play the
sultry stuff – I didn’t ask to but they keep saying “Oh! That’s so sensuous!” Check out the greats -
Duke Ellington and Count Basie have loads on YouTube with great baritone solos –
“Don’t Dream of Anyone but Me (Li’l Darling)”, “Sophisticated Lady” and the
immortal “Smoke Gets in your Eyes”.
So the
8-year-old rocker has retained the excitement of that amazing night and added
some extra melodies – bottom line – it’s still Rock ‘n’ roll to me!
My debut solo link is here!
