I”m still in search of the perfect note.

Last Sunday I played a big band gig with the Grand River Big Band, where it was my privilege to sit next to tenor man Hugh DeWitt. In the middle of a killer R&B tune, Hugh slid up effortlessly into his altissimo range to nail a beautifully placed note–a long, screaming tone that couldn”t have more clearly declared itself to be the emotional high point of the tune if it had hung a sign around its neck that said so.

There was a perfect note if ever I heard one.

I’ve spent years developing my technique on the sax. I won’t say I’ve mastered bebop, but I’ve got a good foundation in it, and when I”m in peak form, I can really get around my horn. I can play fast.

nBut these days, my goal is to slow down and let fewer notes say more, with greater creativity and conviction. It’s a challenge. Certain tunes and styles are so energetic that I naturally gravitate to a flurry of chops. It takes discipline to slow down, un-busy myself, and see what I can do with fewer notes.

I”m getting there. More and more, my internal editor is informing my playing, guiding me toward the union of technique with melodic taste and harmonic sensibility to create musical statements I’m genuinely pleased with. Sometimes I could even swear I’ve hit the perfect note.

Musicality is what it’s all about. The point really isn’t to play slow any more than it is to play fast. The point is to play musically, to make technique serve beauty and taste at any speed. That’s my goal. I’m not where I want to be yet–but I”m a lot closer than I was five years ago.

Phil Woods. If you know that name at all, you say it with reverence. What a master of the alto sax and the bebop language!

Phil is a torchbearer for the American songbook, steeped in the history and tradition of jazz while always maintaining a fresh voice. In his hands, the old standards acquire inventive and refreshing reinterpretations, while newer, contemporary tunes root into a deep and sweeping musical legacy. Depending on the context, Phil”s ideas pour forth with relentless ferocity or tender and exquisite lyricism, all with a buttery smoothness that belies the man”s phenomenal command of the horn.

If you ever are fortunate enough to catch Phil Woods live, watch his fingers. The striking thing about them is, there”s nothing to watch. His fingers barely move. The most amazing, jaw-dropping double-time passages come tumbling out of his horn, but his fingers seem barely aware of it. That is economy of motion, if you please! And always with that fat, generous sound and highly personal sense of swing that instantly identify Phil as the man behind the horn.

I remember my first exposure to Phil back in my college jazz days. Having heard of him from a fellow sax player, I went out and purchased his I Remember album. Good choice. That old vinyl LP opened my eyes to the relationship between beauty and technique. I couldn”t get enough of the album. My Phil Woods collection grew and continues to grow, but I Remember remains one of my favorites.

You can’t play alto sax and not go through Phil. He has influenced my playing perhaps more than any other alto player, and that includes Bird and Cannonball. I”m sure you”ll read more about him in my future posts. For now, it seems appropriate to begin this blog with a tribute to a true jazz legend–the nonpareil Phil Woods.

Be sure to check out Phil’s website.