Practical Tips for Playing the Sax in Church

It has been a couple years since I’ve played my saxophone in a worship team. At some point I will probably participate again, but after 30 years as a disciple of Jesus, during most of which I’ve been involved in church music ministries, I’m not in a rush. Music is a wonderful gift, but in church it can also be an overwhelming one, a powerful categorizing force that can overshadow other aspects of who a musician is as a complete person. So the hiatus has, for me, been necessary and beneficial.

That’s where I’m at, but for many of you, your concern is more pragmatic. You haven’t spent three decades playing in church. You’re just getting started, and what you’d really like to know is how to fit in as a saxophonist–or a trumpet player, or a flutist, or an ocarina player, or whatever–with the rest of your church’s worship team. How do you play your part successfully?

That’s a straightforward question, and I’m happy to respond with a few simple, to-the-point suggestions.

◊ Determine what keys your worship band most often plays in. Black gospel music is typically organ- and keyboard-driven and is likely to use flat keys such as Bb, F, and Eb major. Contemporary music in white churches almost always revolves around guitar, which puts the emphasis on sharp keys such as E, A, D, and G.

◊ As would be true in any setting, whether in church or in a club, know your transposition. If you’re a tenor sax or trumpet player, the key you play in is up a major second from the piano and guitar. If  you’re an alto sax player like me, you’ll be down a minor third. If you play the flute or trombone, you don’t need to transpose to a different key.

◊ Learn pentatonic scales in the most commonly used keys. Most church music is harmonically simple and largely diatonic, and you can cover many a song using a single pentatonic. It’s hard to hit a wrong note playing a pentatonic scale! Of course, you’ll want to add more colors to your palette as you gain familiarity with the music, but pentatonics make a great foundation. The melody for “Amazing Grace” is written entirely from a single pentatonic scale.

◊ Similar to the previous point, learn the major scales of the most commonly used keys. One caveat: Watch how you handle the fourth and seventh scale degrees, as they have the potential to clash with certain chords. That’s one reason why you need to…

◊ Listen! Get a feel for which notes sound good with the chords of a particular tune in different places. In particular, listen to the vocalist and don’t step on his or her toes. Fill in the cracks between lyric phrases, and lay back more when the vocalist is singing. Listen also for what other melodic instruments such as the guitar and keyboard are doing so you can coordinate with them. Overall, be sensitive to the moods of the music and where it’s going.

◊ Don’t be afraid to play! How else are you going to learn? Make your mistakes–that’s part of paying your musical dues. Trust me, most people will never notice the clinkers, and the few who do won’t care.

◊ Strive not to overplay. Unless you’ve been given a solo spot where you get to strut your stuff, keep things simple. If you find yourself playing busily like a beaver in every chorus of every song, cool your jets and give another lead instrument a chance to provide some fills. Consider playing long, held-out chord tones. And remember, often the most effective thing you can play is nothing at all. Drop out for a chorus and notice how subtracting your instrument adds to the music by modifying its texture; and also notice how reentering in the next chorus creates an energy that wouldn’t have existed if you’d been playing all the way through. Contrast is beautiful!

◊ Don’t just learn the tunes–learn your instrument! Practice scales, arpeggios, licks, and patterns. Do the hard work with a spirit of excellence when no one is listening–“heartily, as unto the Lord”–and you’ll be increasingly pleased with the results when you’re playing with the band.

◊ Develop your ears and your instincts as an improviser. You can’t count on charts to get you through. Unless your team uses professional arrangements, chances are good that the way you practice a tune during Wednesday rehearsal isn’t going to be duplicated exactly on Sunday. You’ve got to be able to flex instantly with shifts in direction and even mistakes by the team leader or vocalist. That means you’ve got to–did I already mention this?–listen!

◊ Learn the melody and the form of a song. Doing so will give you a frame of reference so that you’ll never get lost in that tune. You may get temporarily displaced, but you’ll always be able to find your way back to where the rest of the band is without having to hunt it down on a fake sheet. Best of all, knowing the tune will free you to soar within the framework of the music, allowing you to focus on creativity and musicality rather than following a chart.

◊ Be careful about playing in the same range as the vocalist. I’m not saying don’t do it; I’m saying, exercise care and good taste. In particular, try to avoid hitting unison notes with the singer except as a calculated effect. Consider playing in the octave below the vocal range.

◊ Don’t feel you’ve got to play in every song. Not all music was made for the saxophone. For instance, if the band is playing a tune that emphasizes a fast-paced, heavy metal guitar sound, then you might want to sit that one out. Or if a tune is simply too complex for your level of development, to the point where you don’t feel comfortable playing it, then step off to the side and let the rest of the band take it. Just because your instrument can be used doesn’t mean it always should be. It’s a voice; add it or subtract it in a way that best serves the music.

I could offer still more suggestions, and maybe other experienced players will lean in with advice of their own, but this is plenty ’nuff to get you going. Note that I’ve said nothing about the spiritual side of playing in a worship team. Important as that is, it’s not the focus of this post. My intention here has been to give you some nuts-and-bolts input that you can start applying right away. I hope you’ll find it both helpful and encouraging.

If you enjoyed this post, then check out my jazz page, where you’ll find more useful and insightful articles, exercises, and solo transcriptions.

“Will I Ever Become a Good Jazz Improviser?”

What does it take to become proficient at improvising jazz? Will I ever become a decent player?

Have such thoughts ever nagged at you? Perhaps you’re at the stage where you’ve acquired a decent technique, but you’re uncertain how turn it into flowing, musically cohesive improvisations. Will you ever be able to make the leap between mere good chops and great jazz solos?

Or maybe you’ve been playing the sax for a while and you think you’re making strides. Then you come across a YouTube video of some young firebrand who’s blowing circles around anything you ever dreamed of playing, and your heart sags. At that point, you think one of two things: What am I wasting my time for? or I can be that good too if I work at it.

Depression or determination. I’ve felt both emotions at different times. When I was 26 years old, I took a year of music at Wayne State University in Detroit. During my time there, living on campus, I made arrangements to practice after hours in the music building, where I normally woodshedded from 9:00 p.m. to as late as 3:00 in the morning. I worked hard, doing scale exercises, running patterns, and memorizing solos from the famous Charlie Parker Omnibook.

One evening I walked into the building early and heard sounds of music drifting from the auditorium, where one of Detroit’s high school jazz bands was playing a concert. I listened for a bit. They sounded pretty good! But I had work to do, so I broke away and headed for one of the empty classrooms, which I preferred over the smaller practice rooms. Then I assembled my horn and began to work on one of the Omnibook transcriptions I was memorizing.

A few minutes later, several of the high school band members walked into the room. The concert had ended, and they had heard me playing down the hall and decided to get an earful. Cool. I didn’t mind if they hung out and listened. I chatted with them a bit, and then the bass player said, “Hey, we gotta get James.” The other guys agreed that James definitely needed to be gotten, and one of them left to look for him.

I continued to work on my Bird transcription. Pretty soon, in walked a fourteen-year-old kid with a tenor sax tucked under his arm. He listened to me for a minute, then said, “Oh, ‘Ornithology.'” He put his horn to his mouth and started to rip through the Parker solo from memory as flawlessly as if his genetic makeup included an ‘Ornithology’ chromosome. Then, having demonstrated his mastery of a solo that I was only beginning to get my arms around, the kid proceeded to double-tongue a chromatic scale up into his horn’s altissimo register, high enough to sterilize the flies in the room.

I wanted to slap him.

The kid went on to tell me how he planned to master not just the saxophone, but all of the woodwind instruments. Whether he has entirely fulfilled that lofty ambition in the years since, I can’t say, but I do know that today, jazz virtuoso James Carter plays a large number of the woodwind family in addition to the tenor sax.

Fellow saxophonist Tom Stansell, whose family owns and operates the celebrated Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in Muskegon, where Carter spent a summer as a student years ago, once commented, “No one ever told the kid that it’s hard to play fast.”

As for me, I just kept plugging away at my saxophone. My journey as a musician hasn’t taken me to New York at age 21 or on international tours. Rather, it has placed me in Caledonia playing for cows in the pasture at the west edge of town and taking gigs as they come, which they seem to be doing more and more of lately.

And they should be. Because while I’m no James Carter, I’m a good sax player. I’ve been told on different occasions that I don’t realize how good I really am, and maybe that’s true. I hope so. Coming from capable musicians, compliments like that certainly encourage me, because I’ve worked hard to bring together all the technical stuff–the scales, arpeggios, patterns, solo transcriptions, and everything else I’ve labored at over many years–into something that sounds interesting, original, personal, passionate, and…well, musical.

I hadn’t initially planned to share the above anecdote, but there’s a point to it: discouragement and inspiration often come from the same source, and they’re just a matter of how you look at things. Maybe you’re not playing the way you wish you could play today. But if you stick with it, one day you’ll look back and realize how far you’ve come. The technique that you’re presently unsure what to do with will have become your servant, the building material of ideas which you spin with confidence and ease out of your horn. You may not be the next Michael Brecker–or maybe you will be–but that’s not what it’s about. Do what you do for the love of what you do, and everything else will follow in its time.

Not all of us have the same advantages. Not all of us grew up in musical families or were steeped in jazz at an early age. Not all of us have the same natural aptitude, the same educational opportunities, or the same life circumstances that permit us to practice as much as we’d like. But all of us have the ability to choose whether to persevere or give up. So…

“Will I ever become a good jazz improviser?”

If you quit, the answer is no.

If you keep at it, studying the music, listening to great players, and practicing diligently and consistently, the answer is yes.

Don’t rob yourself of the joy of playing music worth hearing. Don’t deprive the world around you of the pleasure of hearing you. And don’t belittle the talent God gave you, because into that talent is woven a purpose that is higher than you may imagine.

Stay with it. You’ll be glad you did.