The death of the Saxophone solo.

Been sitting watching VH1 all morning and I was reminded of the fact that just about every music video in the 80’s had a saxophone player in it. Yeah, so saxophone players. Bruce Springsteen, Billy Ocean Spandau Ballet, Dire Straits, Tina Turner, Sade. All the big acts in the 80’s had a man or woman on Sax. Sometimes more than one. (What do you call a group of Saxophone players? Did you know a group of Crows is called a murder. Freaky eh. Unless anyone has any better ideas I think a group of saxophone players should be called a twort as in ‘Hey I went to see Billy Ocean live last night. You know he has a Twort of Saxophone players. Two guys and a girl. ‘

But I digress. Here’s the thing I was thinking about. Where are they all now? Clarence Clemons from the E Street band probably made a nice tidy sum playing with the Boss. But most of those poor suckers got 30seconds of fame per song where they were allowed to wander up near the singers mike stand and blow their little hearts out. Then they were sent back to their rear of stage beside the three black backing singers. By the 90’s saxophone solos were out. So where did they all go? They can’t all be playing in cover bands on Cruise ships. The people I feel really sorry for are the youngsters who only just broke into the music biz in the late 80’s. After years of practice they were finally ready to hit the stage. They move to London New York or LA of get in a band or do session work and suddenly… no one wants a saxophone player anymore. For those guys the big muscley bloke who played with Tina Turner would have been their idol. Not only was be super buff and got to play with no shirt on he even got a bit part with her in Beyond Thunderdome. For a young sax player he was proof of where the instrument could take you. But then the arse fell out of the sax solo market and I fear there are hundreds of musicians around the world with shattered dreams. Next time you’re in town and the haunting sound of an echoey saxophone wafts down the street go and find the busker. Take a good look at them. Maybe you’ll recognize them from a video on VH1 or perhaps they were one of the unlucky ones who got the party a little late. Toss em a few coins and say something like ‘Hang in there buddy. Your time will come again.’ It’s probably bullshit, but as they sit in their grotty little bed-sit later that night trying to get the last few drops of brasso out of the can, your words will keep them company.