Yesterday, while I walked to my favorite coffee shop in this little upstate NY town, it began to drizzle. As I passed in front of the computer repair place, a skinny guy with white hair and a white beard, and holding a beat-up saxophone, stepped out. He stood in the shelter of the recessed door and started to play. It sounded great - smooth and mellow. When I reached the coffee shop a few doors down, instead of going right in, I stood under the awning, looked out at the increasing rain, and listened to the music a while.
I saw the guy the next day and complimented him on his playing, but it turned out that not everyone appreciated it. He had been playing one door down from a little diner, and apparently the owner came out and asked him to stop. "I don't want to hear your saxophone in my diner," she said. "I don't want to smell your meatloaf on the sidewalk," he shot back. So, she called the cops. Oh, well. At least I got to hear it.
While I was in the rain listening to the music, I suddenly felt like I was in a movie. An old detective movie, of course. This sensation is common now, but just think, none of the ancient Greeks felt like they were in a movie, ever.
Since I don't have any appropriate pictures, I leave you with the following album cover and the following question: Did they give much thought to the alignment of the bass sax mouthpiece?