If you're joining
my faith, cool, but there may be less than meets the eye.
There was a drawing I did called John the Saxist in the
70's. He's about to leap (in the womb) and already has both
his saxophone and his muse in there with him. Since then I
have become the Sax Object, the Saxist has already anointed
me. You may not want to go as far as the Sax Messiah.
One has to draw the line.
If you need more pictures I can help you find them.
Lately I'm working on the word parodies Sasquatch and
Sax Quash; while Sasquatch may only be a legendary beast the
sax quasher is real. Sax quashing is a monstrous ordeal, caused by a
inner dragon that can never be slain, like Grendel, he lives
beneath the world in some unreachable darkness beyond reason.
When I stood eyes-closed, playing, bathed in my own pure
light of jazz-thought, hideous people would pass by and say
things that could only be from jealousy, hatred and
infantile disappointment. My music has never been about
me personally, I pray to the gods of music
by playing from an inner epistle.
People take their own importance more seriously than ever in
this century. What ever happened to appreciation of hard
work and the inner faith that makes it possible?
Other sax quashers will seduce and lure the sax into bed
where things usually go terribly wrong. Call it a case of
music hang-ups vs. the cell-o-bed, that is the busy ever
popular horn vs. the lovely dreamer of personal fantasy. The
sax cannot explain everything it is doing every minute of
the day. Sax music cannot stay anywhere for long no matter
how much the seducer effuses the passionate love of sax
music. It's the sax symbol that is the real turn on. Sax in
bed, however, is very difficult, as is sax in outer space.
Where does the sax go when it's finished? All that music
tends to clutter up the place. Manuscripts, charts,
equipment, stands, mics, speakers, wires, hundreds of wires
and widgets. And then there's the matter of the horn... no
matter how big or small the horn it's cold. 25 pounds of
brass can hardly ever warm itself enough to please anyone.
Then comes the note - be out by tonight or everything's
going out on the curb. The sax often ends up in a way-out
jazz club alternate universe where only bebop is spoken.
Every instrument has it's own saga, this is only one of
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