The joy of learning to play the saxophone (again).

TThe first time I saw Van Morrison in concert, I was 20 and in awe of the greatest, rawest Irish musician – but that night it was actually his saxophonist who ultimately blew me away. I never imagined there would be a saxophonist (cut me some slack, it was the eighties), and Kate St John’s musicality and physicality were both exquisite and ambitious.

St. John and her iconic look became my new destination. This was who I could be: someone unexpectedly female, in a brass section that demonstrates the tremendous dynamic range of this instrument, whose tonal qualities are so close to those of the human voice; Someone who went from gig to gig with a fancy backpack and the coolest instrument in the world… those guys would do it They came in droves and Van Morrison called me by Christmas.

I bought a beginner saxophone and decided to teach myself since I was already a pianist. How could this plan fail? Quite simple, as it turned out. I struggled but never mastered the brass. I used it in a few comedy acts, but no guys showed up and there definitely weren’t crowds. Van Morrison never called. Slowly and painfully, I realized that the saxophone is only sexy when you play it brilliantly, and I still screamed at 25 percent of the notes – so I gave up and sold it to a ten year old.

Cut to 2024. I see St. John on YouTube, 40 years later, still playing the saxophone like an extremely attractive boss, still the person I want to be. I buy another alto saxophone on eBay, but this time I realize that teaching myself was the fatal mistake, so I find a teacher online and finally, four decades later, The turned out to be a masterpiece.

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Contrary to my naive expectation, playing brass instruments is nothing like playing a recorder. It’s complicated, tiring, slow and improvements have to be fought hard. My teacher José is a brilliant Spanish jazz musician who patiently broke the sloppy habits I acquired all those decades ago and teaches me not only how to play properly, but also how to practice.

A classic rehearsal tip from José is to occasionally practice new pieces by simply touching the keys while saying the names of the notes out loud. It sounds and feels like a kindergarten tactic, but in his opinion it anchors a score in your head on a purely technical level, and once you’ve nailed down a section in this way, your brain is free to move on to focus on the “why” You need to think about the “how” or the “what”. He’s so sharp.

Still in a hurry, I discovered a local amateur community orchestra playing classics like… In the moodwhere every player at every level is invited to join in simply for the fun. After a few lessons, I asked José when he thought I could attend one of these exciting beginners’ evenings. “Six months” was the disappointing but realistic answer.

He was right. I can accompany anyone on the piano on any song, but it took me six lessons to even be able to master the first piece I tackled on my saxophone. I apologized to the street WhatsApp group before it started and there were no outstanding complaints, but I’m confident that no one who lives less than ten houses away from us wants to hear about it My funny Valentine’s Day again and again. Always.

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I may never play Ronnie Scotts. Maybe I’ll never be good enough to stop annoying my neighbors. But one day I will play in an amateur community orchestra and then write another piece for this column, and it will be full of joy—for those exquisite future joys are no longer my goal.

I had thought this process was about the impact, the visuals and the results – I thought I would look great and sound great, Van would ask me on stage for a special solo Have I told you lately? and these longed-for boys would line up at the stage door. But that’s like trying to garden just to win at the Chelsea Flower Show – anyone who owns a trowel knows there’s something deeper involved in tilling. The real beauty, the real joy lies in the journey. It’s the process of trying to tackle something difficult and the tiny, incremental improvements that come slowly but surely. And—no matter the craft or skill—it feels like a joyful thing to begin a sentence at age 62 with the words “I’m learning how to…”