Blame it on G-flat

Wednesday, July 6, 2005 may mark the day that I began my inexorable spiral into dementia. Either that or I'm exhibiting mid-life crisis with a rather unusual set of symptoms.

I bought three saxophones over the Internet.

Yes, three.

• a Yamaha YBS-62 Baritone;


• a Yamaha YTS-875B Custom Tenor with a black lacquer finish;


• and a Yamaha YSS-875B Custom Soprano with a black lacquer finish.

And now I feel like a kid waiting for Christmas: I can't wait for these horns to arrive.

I've never owned a real saxophone. (There's a crusty old 1930s-vintage C melody tenor that I bought from a high school friend for $65, but that hardly counts. It had no recognizable branding and leaked worse than Starr Jones on a diuretic. I ended up leaving it behind in my townhouse when I moved to Tennessee in February. Maybe the new owners of the townhouse can make a nice lamp out of it.) In high school and college, I always used school instruments. So the prospect of now having not one, but three professional quality horns has me almost giddy.

Okay, so I'm full-on giddy -- and that's not a pretty state for a man of my years and presumed dignity.

"So, " I hear you asking, "how did this all come about?"

I blame the key of G-flat.

I play wind synthesizer in our church praise band on Sunday mornings. With the exception of myself, this is a group of pro musicians. The band leader, Rex, plays guitar and writes all of the arrangements for Disney on Ice. Our pianist can play just about anything you throw at him on the first attempt. I'm the only exception: a horn-playing hack who rarely practices and just manages to get by.

The band runs through the morning's music on Sunday mornings, about a half hour before the first service. This past Sunday, Rex pulled out a chart he'd arranged: a straight-ahead blues version of "God Bless America." I looked at the chart and saw that it starts in the key of F -- no big deal. But toward the end, the music modulates.

To G-flat.

For a horn player, G-flat is evil. Every note, except F, is flat. Even C is flat, which is insane, since C-flat is really B, which is just confusing.

I stared at it for a second, and was honest. "Rex, just beware that I might freak out at the key change."

Rex seemed unconcerned as he counted off the tempo.

Well, I survived the key change. It was in no way a great solo -- I just hung on to the notes that I knew were safe and prayed for the double bar to show up as soon as possible.

I followed the same formula for the services -- not embarrassing myself, but certainly not playing anything I'd want to ever listen to again.

I began thinking that it is finally time for me to get serious about learning my chord and improvisation theory if I don't want to go through another experience like that.

The next day, July 4^th, I started seriously thinking about taking classes at the Nashville Jazz Workshop. I mentioned this to my parents, and my mother, of all people, said that she wished I'd start playing saxophone again. I was actually thinking the same thing, but knew that saxophones are not a trivial purchase, but it was nice to have my mother not only endorsing, but presenting the idea that I should buy a sax.

So the next day I went in search of the NJW. It's in the old industrial section of Nashville, along the waterfront. Most of the buildings in the area are condemned factories, many with no walls. The NJW itself is in the old Neuhoff meat-packing plant. Outside, it's an old brick factory building with a bit of character, surrounded by the crumbling remains of its former competitors. Inside, it's a hipster's dream, with artistic lighting and jazz-related artwork scattered around.

I had a chance to meet with the founders, Lori Mechem and Roger Spencer. I told them what I hoped to gain from attending NJW and was given a list of courses that would be appropriate. Roger also suggested I get in touch with a private teacher, Dennis Solee, to sharpen up my sax chops after such a long hiatus. Roger told me that Dennis would also be my best contact for finding a new axe.

On Wednesday, I hooked up with Dennis on the phone and we had a great conversation. It turns out that he also has played wind synths in the past, a Lyricon and a Yamaha WX7, but lost both of them in a fire last year. (I have two WX7s, a broken Lyricon II, and a Yamaha WX5.) He also is a big fan of Yamaha saxophones, which, while surprising, was in line with my impressions of Yamaha instruments from 20+ years ago. I always like the way that the Yamaha horns felt under my fingers and the solid "blow-through" -- you felt like your breath was actually doing something as it passed through the instrument.

I did have a concern that Yamaha horns were infamous for being too bright sounding for "legit" playing, but apparently that has changed. In fact, according to Dennis, the YTS-875 Custom has a sound that is often considered on the verge of being too dark!

Dennis suggested that I should spend a couple of weeks searching for horns on the Web, where I would have a better selection and would likely get a better deal than any brick and mortar dealer in the Nashville area. Plus, it turns out most on-line instrument dealers, including many of those on eBay, have a "try and return" policy, where you can audition an instrument for 30-45 days and return it for a full refund if you don't like it.

So I began my research, but I had a real dilemma: do I get a bari, a tenor or a soprano? (I've never really enjoyed playing alto, for some odd reason.) The more research I did, the more I was tempted to get all three.

And unto temptation I did yield.

So here I am, giddy as a Japanese schoolgirl before a Takuya Kimura film, waiting for my three Ferraris, er, saxes to arrive sometime next week.

Oh, my poor neighbors...