sounds like now

I returned to my apartment today to find four large boxes deposited on my doorstep. And within these boxes I was delighted to find many, many copies of American Voices. And let me tell you, it’s about time. I remember taking introductory Ph.D musicology courses with Richard Crawford at the University of Michigan. We’d constantly write, and rewrite and rewrite and rewrite and rewrite. You get the idea. And finally after one rewrite, I remember Prof Crawford saying that as hard as it is to do, there comes a point when you just have push the damn thing away from you, throw up your hands, and say, “I’m done.” That’s kind of how this went.

Okay, now the basics: The CD is available directly from the Innova website until the official street release date of July 24, at which time you’ll be able to get it from Amazon, iTunes, eMusic, or in record stores. Of course, you could also come to the recital and “unofficial” CD release party I’ve got coming up on April 25 to pick up a copy. There’ll be all sorts of celebrities there. Finally, there are many people to thank for making this CD a reality and you should know about them. So read the liner notes.

American Voices is currently in production. Official announcements to follow. Stay tuned.

I’m sometimes asked what equipment I use so here’s a list for the curious:

One of my favorite shows on Saturday NPR is Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me!, the weekly humorous NPR news quiz. In a portion of the show called “Not My Job,” host Peter Sagal invites prominent guests on to answer questions about esoteric topics they mostly likely have no knowledge of whatsoever. Back in December, Peter’s guest was none other than jazz saxophonist and perennial whipping boy for sullen classical saxophonists, Branford Marsalis. Bantering about before the quiz portion of Branford’s interview, Peter tried to get to the heart of an important issue, which is fitting for a Valentine’s Day post:
 

Peter Sagal: We heard a rumor, and I want to see if you can confirm it, that the ladies like the saxophone for some reason.

Branford Marsalis: Oh, man, that’s not a rumor. What makes you think that’s a rumor? I mean look at all the movies. As soon as the guy gets near the girl, what do you hear? Saxophone. There’s a reson for that. But at the age of 14 or 15 when I really wasn’t getting any girls and wasn’t hip to that, I’ve often said, in jest, you know I had to switch to the saxophone, because you can get women with the saxophone. And I will concede that you stand a much better chance playing the saxophone than you do playing an electric piano.

Charlie Pierce: Just the lack of hernias alone would be . . .

BM: There you go.

Roxanne Roberts: Well, wait, wait. Let me ask then: what makes the saxophone so sexy?

BM: I have no idea. It’s not that I made the decision. It’s just that you play it and women go, “Ooh, I like the saxophone.” I don’t know why. I’ve just never heard a movie, or a show, or in real life a person come and say, “You know what really turns me on? Fender Rhodes. I just love this guy. Electric keyboards? Oh, the DX-7 is just so sexy.” It doesn’t happen. I cannot tell you why, but I’m glad it’s the way it is.

CP: Apropros of nothing, is it true that all oboe players are virgins?

BM: You know that might be true. I don’t know if it’s true but I would understand why if it were.

CP: It is as someone once said: an ill wind that nobody blows good.

BM: There you go.

PS: I was just thinking about the accordian player watching you with a woman swooning around. The accordian player’s thinking, “I’ve wasted my life.”

(N.B. Download the complete audio here.)

I’m in Roanoke, VA this weekend performing with the Roanoke Symphony Orchestra. In honor of Valentine’s Day, our program is titled Dance and Romance and features its fair share of saxophone. (Because what instrument’s more romantic than saxophone? Really?) Truth be told, it’s the most playing I’ve ever done on a single orchestra gig. Two by Bernstein—perennial favorite Symphonic Dances from West Side Story coupled with hidden gem On the Town—along with the amorous Bolero by Ravel, in which I play both the tenor and soprano parts. I normally don’t have a problem with nerves on any concert I play, but having only 5 beats rest to put down the tenor and pick up the soprano and play both lines equally beautifully is seriously challenging my nervousness-free performance record. Not to mention having to have the perfect reed for three horns at the same time—actually, check that, because I need to have all four horns (add baritone) ready to go because of an upcoming concert in NYC. More on that later. I need to deflate.

It seems unfathomable to me that it was nearly one year ago that I performed J Anthony Allen’s Hyperacusis as part of my guest artist duties at last year’s SPARK Festival—certainly an event to remember. Somehow I made it through 3 concerts, 10 different pieces of music, and a series of early morning interviews with my wits still about me.

For me, Michael Brecker was the epitome of every musical value I embrace and have spent my life as a musician working to cultivate. He played with an amazing and unique sound that was consistent throughout the entire range of the saxophone. His technique was flawless. He constantly evolved and pushed the limits of his abilities. And he played with absolute unbridled passion.

The first time I heard Michael Brecker I was in 9th grade or so. A friend turned me on to the new Brecker Brothers album. I remember being simply blown away by the sound that he played with. And he didn’t play the saxophone like a saxophone. I mean, he was doing some very saxophonistic things, but he was completely beyond the instrument itself. When I listened to Brecker, I heard more than just the saxophone playing. There was something in there, which was a feeling I’d had with only a couple of other musicians—John Coltrane and Bill Evans (the pianist). And sometimes it sounded like he was playing the saxophone like an electric guitar, and that was way cool. I got way into Brecker and discovered that he played with pretty much everybody in every style imaginable, from folkies to pop groups. And he sounded absolutely amazing and convincing in whatever context he played.

About 6 months ago, I wrote about Michael Brecker’s condition, understanding the seriousness of it, but not fully comprehending the rapidity with which it consumed him. So like many, I was stunned by the news that he had passed away. I feel fortunate that I had the opportunity to see him perform live several times. Michael Brecker was a true innovator and a consumate musician. He will be missed.

With the Boston Microtonal Society concert coming up in less than two weeks, I’ve been busy getting Bob Hasegawa’s Ajax is all about attack under my fingers. I’m always surprised at how difficult it feels to learn a new quarter-tone piece. For me, it’s often like learning to play the instrument all over again—the response time between my mind reading the notes on the page and my fingers depressing the often odd key combinations is much slower than if I was sight reading regular notes. Of course, there’s a simple explanation for all of this: quarter-tones don’t appear very frequently in music, which results in a much steeper piece learning curve than usual.

Fingerings can also be problematic and often require digging deep into my bag of alternate fingerings as well as a little creativity. For example, in Bob’s piece there’s a fast arpeggiated 16th-note sextuplet run that includes a leap from G 1/4-step flat to D natural. The fingering I use for G 1/4-step flat on soprano is 123/5 Tf—an F# with the alternate F# key played with the right-hand ring finger. The problem is that I need my right-hand ring finger to play D and playing the G 1/4-step flat like that makes it impossible to make a clean connection within the context of that fast run. Dilemma: that’s really the only way to play G 1/4-step flat. Solution: instead of finding a different 1/4-tone fingering (or faking it), I changed my D fingering from 123/456 to C2. There’s a timbre change but it preserves the correct interval relationship and in the context of the run, the change in timbre is nearly imperceptible.

I wonder if people are cringing outside of my hotel room, thinking I’m playing extremely out of tune.

Playlist (quarter-tone-free):

Patty Mitchell of oboeinsight calls SLN’s attention to the following quote discussing “the saxophone’s distinct sound”:

The saxophone has an unmistakable sound, not easily confused with other instruments. What makes the sound of the saxophone so distinct? Recording the notes of various saxophones and comparing them with those of other instruments such as the oboe, Jean-Pierre Dalmont of the Universite du Maine in France will reveal the acoustical and geometrical features that endow the instrument with distinctive acoustics.

I think in this case it’s fair to assume that in choosing the terms “unmistakable” and “distinct,” the author of the quote was using them as euphemistic synonyms for “better”—especially w/r/t the oboe (ahem). The saxophone is conical. But this is only one reason it is better than other woodwind instruments. In addition, the saxophone has an articulated G# key, a mechanism coveted by clarinetists and flutists alike, as well as rollers between the low Eb and C keys. Take that!

Every time I clip into my pedals and set off on my bike, I am acutely aware of the danger involved in what I am doing. Despite the fact that I pay close attention to my surroundings while I’m in the saddle, it only takes one person juggling their cell phone and Starbucks latte in their SUV to make a mistake that could bear serious consequences for me. Screaming down the side of a mountain at 40+mph, one twitch, a little bit of gravel in the wrong place, some uneven pavement, it all has the power to end more than just the race or the day’s training. But here’s the thing: I am in control of riding my bike. It is a choice that I make on a daily basis. I choose to ride.

Yet some things are completely beyond our control. I think immediately of my colleague and predecessor at the University of Arizona, Kelland Thomas. In the late 1990s, Kelland emerged as a major force in the saxophone world. And when at 24 years of age he landed a teaching position at the U of A, it seemed a foregone conclusion that he would ascend to the greatest heights of our discipline, both as an artist and a teacher. However, in 1999, Kelland began to notice that he was having trouble playing like he used to. He couldn’t hold a note for very long without it starting to quiver. He later learned that he had developed focal dystonia, a condition in which involuntary muscle spasms lead to the inability to carry out a movement pertaining to a specific task–in this case, playing the saxophone. Sadly, Kelland’s illness derailed what was certain to be a brilliant career.

About a month ago, I, along with hundreds of other saxophonists, received an email from Michael Brecker’s wife pleading for someone that might be able to help her husband–one of the most innovative, influential, and most emulated saxophonists on the face of the earth–who was battling a very serious life-threatening illness. To be honest, I didn’t think much of this email at the time. I wrote it off as another scam in which someone was trying to take advantage of innocent people by using a celebrity as bait. What I didn’t know until today, was that Michael Brecker’s wife really did write that email. She must have spent an incredible amount of time compiling all those saxophonists’ email addresses with the hope that maybe one of them just might possibly be the one who could save Michael’s life.

I knew that the email was not a hoax today when Michael Brecker’s condition, in all its dire seriousness, was reported in The New York Times. The article’s title–”His Saxophone Is Silent, His Life Is in the Balance”–frightened me when I read it. Brecker, who is 56 years old, is suffering from myelodysplastic syndrome, a form of cancer which prevents bone marrow from producing ample healthy blood cells. His only hope for survival rests on a blood stem cell and bone marrow transplant, a dangerous procedure that is only possible if a stem cell donor with a close enough genetic match to his tissue type is identified. So far, no satisfactory donors have emerged.

How could this happen? Did Kelland Thomas do anything to deserve having a promising career as a concert saxophonist cut incredibly short? Did Michael Brecker do anything to deserve being torn away from his instrument–his passion, his voice, his identity–by an illness that threatens his life? The answer is no, they didn’t. And neither of them had any say, any choice, in the matter whatsoever. It is a poignant reminder of life’s fragility.