I wasn't planning on writing again so soon, but a happy diversion caught my interest and I wanted to talk a little about it. It involves music, and this is something I have been observing from afar but haven't had the resources to experience first-hand, but my, do I want to. When I was in high school, I played saxophone in the school band - I started in 8th grade learning the alto sax, then was officially a part of the band in 9th grade when I played tenor, and then in my 10th and 11th grade years I played baritone sax, earning a letter and also becoming one of the senior members of our marching band. Other than a brief bucket-list work with a society band when I was in college, it has been over 30 years since I last picked up a saxophone, and I am very rusty! I do currently own a curved soprano, and one day when all the dust settles I want to maybe brush up a bit so I can play a little. I love the soprano sax - it has a sweet sound, and it is compact and easy to transport. But, I really miss playing baritone, and I also have always wanted to tackle the bass sax. Up until perhaps I was in my early 20s, the bass sax was the biggest saxophone I knew of, and it was a mythical creature to me - I heard it occasionally on records, but never got a chance to see one much. That is, until my seventh-grade year of middle school. Let me tell that story a bit.
Romney Junior High School, where I more or less went to my whole tenure of middle school between the years 1983 and 1985, was not the best experience - frankly I hated it. I was not a rich kid, definitely not a popular kid, and was often the subject of bullying and harassment from both the popular crowd as well as the rougher kids. I dressed different, talked different, and listened to radically different music - you see, in my 6th grade year I was introduced to my first records in my collection, and by the time I started middle school a year later, I had perhaps a couple of hundred of them. Music was my outlet from the stressful life of middle school during the week and facing a lack of financial stability at home (it gradually got better, but it was not easy). I would listen to my collection I had on Friday night, and then listened to Henry Boggan's Sunday night show on WBT-AM, which got me basically started in collecting this music. The more I got into my music, the more I also wanted to learn to play this great stuff too, and thankfully my middle school music teacher got me hooked up with saxophone lessons in the second half of my 8th grade year. The man who taught us had two students - the other was a classmate of mine named Samantha, who was learning the sousaphone. He was a good teacher, and I nailed the basics enough to land a place in the high school band a year later when we had moved and I started a new school - I had graduated to tenor sax, and played in the school jazz band with that while playing cymbals in the marching band. The second half of my freshman year though was more tragic - we had moved to the small town of Rowlesburg in early 1985, and that year the town and most of our state was hit with a devastating flood that decimated the town. Being the high school I started going to there had to operate like a MASH unit - we had classes in the Buckwheat Festival Hall in the county seat of Kingwood, and band was considered a luxury no one could really afford, as many students were recovering from flood damage to their homes and there were more pressing needs. In contrast to the cliquish nonsense I experienced in middle school, in my freshman year I was able to be a classmate to a number of really brave kids who bonded together in the midst of what was probably the worst adversity they ever faced. They accepted me with no prerequisites, and even today I am still friends with a number of them. However, I did miss the band, but that would change when I became a sophomore the following year.
My sophomore year of high school got off to a rocky start - I was attending East Preston in nearby Terra Alta after my mom took a job taking care of an elderly nonagenarian lady out in the area of Salt Lick. My first new months were an adjustment, but as the school year kicked off I began to find my place, and as it would turn out, my attendance at East Preston for the remainder of my high school years would end up being three of the best years of my life. It was good to get back into the marching band again then, and our band teacher, the late Kenneth Garlow, was very happy to let me take up the baritone sax. Being a "band geek" in high school was actually a fun experience, and let me give you a bit of that life now.
Unlike the regular classes during the year, the band was a big commitment - you had parades and concerts to play year round, and that meant essentially traveling all over West Virginia. My weekends were usually spent traveling to parades, and during the summers I got to do a lot of that as well. You will never truly appreciate the life of a traveling musician until you have to change clothes on a crowded bus with 40 other students, half of which were girls. Most of us who were guys just wore our band uniforms over our street clothes, and although it could get a bit hot and sweaty having layers of clothes like that one, we did pretty well. Some of the guys were smart - they wore shorts and t-shirts under their uniforms, so they suffered a bit less and their changing times were better too. In the winter it was a bit better, as two things were true at once. For one, it often was a good idea to wear your uniform over your clothes when it was 35 degrees out in the late Fall, and we also had a lot of other concerts that were indoors so changing was a bit more comfortable with the uniforms. It was also good to carry a bit of spare cash with you too, as often we would stop off to eat and we also would tend to visit a mall if we went to bigger towns like Morgantown or Clarksburg - it was Mr. Garlow's reward to us for doing well at our performance. I particularly liked the Meadowbrook Mall in Bridgeport, as it was considered "fancy" for small-town kids like us to visit there. As an adult later, going to the mall was just something you did to spend a few bucks and get out of the house, and indeed, for eight years we had Valley Mall right next door to us in Hagerstown. Back then though, even visiting a Pizza Hut was a treat. Sometimes, I miss the thrill of simple pleasures like that, as my battle-weary adult persona has forgotten the mystery that surrounded stull like that.
On occasion, as one of the older members of the band, I would get called upon to do some things in a pinch. On one occasion, our bass clarinetist who was a girl named Sherry ended up getting extremely sick when we were at a band competition, and the piece we were playing as a concert group rather than a marching band was called the Kensington Overture. It was a nice piece of music, but there was this solo part in it that, my goodness, was a bit challenging! The solo was originally designated for a bass clarinet part, but being Mr. Garlow was a guy who followed the Coast Guard's Latin slogan "Semper Paratus," he wanted me to learn the solo as well. Oh, did I struggle with that! The key changes in that thing were a nightmare, but they sounded nice if they were played properly. I did manage to learn it passably, and Garlow thankfully had enough confidence that I could pull it off if necessary. And, then wouldn't you know it, Sherry falls ill! So, I got the solo, and surprisingly I pulled it off with no issues and we scored decently with that. It was at that point I knew I had mastered the baritone sax, and that was a proud moment for me. As time went on, I mastered some routinely jazz and dance band techniques too, such as the "slurping sax" sound of Billy May's orchestra as well as the Lombardo vibrato. That would come in handy later. But, my career as a high school band musician would end when I finished my junior year, as Mr. Garlow retired that year, and I was not exactly too connected with the new teacher, Mr. Caplinger, so I retired from service as well. It was a good experience for me, and the only regret is that I didn't keep my chops up all these years with practice. I shudder to think of what I would sound like now, although I do still know how to play. Like I said, once things simmer down a bit and I get more settled, I might just take it back up with my little curved soprano (I also possess a Xaphoon, which is also called a "Bamboo Sax." It sounds something like a cross between a clarinet and an alto sax, but I have yet to master that too). Also, I always wanted to play the trombone, so should I maybe venture there? We'll see - let me get back into practice with the saxophone first!
I give my background with playing sax myself to talk about the one fascination I have had with that for years. I always was enamored with rare and big instruments, and that is one reason why I took up the baritone sax - it was the biggest available. What I really wanted to get my hands on though was a bass saxophone, but they were a bit hard to come by - even recordings of people playing it were rare then. Going back to my years in middle school, I hung out a lot in the school library, and even had a study hall in there. Surprisingly, for a small West Virginia town, the school had a subscription to Down Beat magazine, which then was the the major jazz publication on the market. Down Beat in the mid-1980s was beginning however to shift from classic jazz to what we now call "smooth jazz," but even then there were still some good informative articles in it. It was in an issue of the magazine that I came across a guy named Vince Giordano, who like me became enamored with early dance bands and he took up the bass saxophone. Prior to him, there were essentially two names associated with the instrument: one was Adrian Rollini in the 1920s, and the other was Boyd Raeburn in the 1940s. Rollini was the one though who put the bass sax on the map, and come to find out there is a rich deposit of his classic material from the 1920s and the early 1930s, playing in orchestras like Whiteman's, as well as with Fred Elizalde, the Filipino-American bandleader who did a lot for dance bands in both England and the US. He later had his own orchestra, and had played with the likes of Bix Beiderbecke, Benny Goodman, Jack Teagarden, Glenn Miller, Frankie Trumbauer, Henry Busse, the Dorseys, and so many others. In my current collection that is mostly digital, I probably have close to a thousand records with either Rollini as a sideman or as a leader, and I became a big fan of his as a teenager. Apparently, Vince Giordano did as well, even painstakingly transcribing Rollini's work to recreate it. I talked to Vince a couple of times over the years, and he is a wealth of information on the dance bands of the 1920s. As I would learn in the late 1990s though, the bass sax was still a small fish compared to three of its big brothers that began to surface.
The first I had heard about the contrabass sax was in the New Grove Dictionary of Jazz, which listed it as the largest member of the saxophone family. As far as I am aware, no one had played one, with the possible exception of Sigurd Rascher, and finding one was almost an exercise in futility prior to 1995. Then, something happened - a guy named Don Stephens formed a saxophone quintet called the Nuclear Whales Saxophone Orchestra, and Stephens would later add the mighty contrabass to the group's recorded repertoire. This beast is 7 feet tall and weighs about 50 pounds, and seeing the case alone that it is housed in is awe-striking. As a new interest in the contrabass started to take off in the late 1990s, some influential figures in traditional jazz began to record with it, notably Scott Robinson who featured it on his phenomenal album Thinking Big. Then, it started being manufactured - the first one I had heard about was the full-sized one produced by Corsi in the late 1990s, but in the early 2000s the German instrument maker Benedickt Eppelsheim began experimenting with designs, and not only did he come up with a full-sized contra, but he also created a whole new range of instruments that mirrored the larger saxes called the Tubax. The Tubax is not large - it is about the size of a standard baritone sax - but it echoed the range initially of the contra, but then Eppelsheim got more adventurous and created a subcontrabass Tubax. This was perhaps the first attempt to get an even larger saxophone on the market, one that would even transcend Adolph Sax's original vision, and although it was still quite compact and not an actual contrabass saxophone, it still had the sound. From there then we move to Brazil, and this is where the J'Elle Stainer Company came into focus.
The success of Eppelsheim's Tubax naturally spawned interest in even bigger and lower-register saxophones, and in the mid-2000s this Brazil-based company called J'Elle Stainer created the actual subcontrabass saxophone. The first one was a compact model - it was huge, but stood about the same height as a bass saxophone. However, they later wowed the world with the first full-sized subcontra, and that was something that blew the wildest imagination. This monster stands about 9 feet tall, weighs in at around 70 pounds, and its register is so low that it will vibrate the guts of anyone sitting near it while it is being played. One guy on YouTube actually did a dual with a pipe organist, and the range of both instruments is equal - the thing is massive! And, it has several musicians who specialize playing it, including the Italian saxophonist Attilio Berni, concert saxophonist Jay Easton, and there is one other American artist with an Italian name whose CD I had but I cannot recall him for the life of me. Even some contrabass players like Blaize Garza are now flirting a bit with the subcontra too. I really wish I had my original CD collection, as there are a few others worth mentioning on this too - Paul Cohen definitely comes to mind, and I need to replace his very good CD showcasing some of these monsters. Composers likewise, such as the talented Adam Gilberti, have also featured this as well as some other whopper instruments (octobass flute, etc) in his Genesis Concert. However, as would be discovered, the story definitely didn't end there.
The search for the world's largest saxophone did not end with the subcontra, as yet a bigger brother of it came along in just the recent past few years. What we are talking about is the octocontrabass saxophone, and as of this time I don't think a full-sized one has been made yet although in Brazil at least one compact sized instrument is in existence - Brazil has a unique role in the evolution of the saxophone in recent years, and as you will see, what makes it more fascinating is that its biggest proponent is a small Pentecostal denomination there. Getting back to the octocontrabass though, if it were to be manufactured as a full-sized standard saxophone, it would be over 13 feet in height and a preteen child could fit into its bell. I am not sure who manufactured the flagship octocontra, but it is in Brazil, and yes, it is to be found in a church of all places! Before I get into that though, it is important to note that like the slightly smaller subcontra, the octocontra hasn't had a lot of people producing serious compositions with it yet, with two exceptions - one is Slovene composer Igor Krivokapic, who composed his Fifth Symphony: Seven Trumpets of the Apocalypse, that features it. Another composer, Dutchman Jan Van de Roost, also features a part for it in his composition Colores. I still have yet to find these either as CD recordings or online, but I plan to search them out. The most visible and prominent featuring of this massive beast for now is actually in church music, and in Brazil! Let me tell that story now.
The Christian Congregation in Brazil is a stable Pentecostal denomination with roots in Italian Pentecostalism in the US that also produced denominations like the CCNA (Christian Church in North America), a fairly mainstream Evangelical Pentecostal denomination that holds beliefs similar to the Assemblies of God. As I am reading about this, it appears that the Christian Congregation is worldwide, and does have American congregations - they date back to an Italian-American Pentecostal evangelist by the name of Luigi Francescon (1866-1964). Francescon is also credited as being the founder of the CCNA as well as the CCUS, and he is essentially the father of Italian-American Pentecostalism. Much like Florence Crawford's Apostolic Faith Mission in Oregon, the Italian groups tended to be more reserved and conservative in their worship, and a hallmark of their churches was the orchestra accompanied by an organ. When Francescon began the mission work in Brazil that resulted in the establishment of the Christian Congregation in Brazil, the churches in that group kept that legacy and many of them ended up even today with some large orchestras that would rival the size of the official symphonic orchestras in many major cities. For some odd reason, those Brazilian churches also latched on in the early 2000s to these massive saxophones, and therefore you see their orchestras filled with a dozen or more bass, contrabass, and subcontrabass saxes, many of them compliments of the J'Elle Stainer Company (I wonder if their executive leadership is part of this group, due to the large number of their saxes in those orchestras?). Recently, the one and only octocontrabass sax showed up in their orchestras too, played by a young man named Bruno Ribeiro Valadares. Much like Blaize Garza in the US here, Valadares seems to be a saxophone prodigy, and he has mastered the monsters. He plays well too, as I have had the privilege of watching his videos on both Instagram and YouTube.
I think what I will do with this point is conclude, as it is late, and I want to do a second part of this focusing on some wild ideas I am having that intersect my music interest and my Catholic faith. After all, if Pentecostals can "embrace the present" by adopting a rather large and unusual musical instrument, then why can't we? That is what I will talk about in the next part of this. Have a good night everyone, and will see you soon.
