Blow it!

Sadly, the saxophone lesson didn’t go well last night. I have been practising and playing my tunes at home, but when I got to the lesson I couldn’t do it. Was it nerves? What? It certainly wasn’t the saxophone’s fault, cos Mel checked it out.

I came home with instructions to tongue only the first note in the phrase and slur the next, and we’d put the tonguing back in later.

I also came home with cigarette papers which I have to blow against the wall for as long as possible. Dave – of course – could do it for longer than I could.

 

“You’re much better at it!” I said. “Why aren’t you playing the saxophone?”

“I’ve been forbidden to touch it.”

Quite right too. He’d be able to pick it up and play it without any trouble. Struggling with my embouchure is discouraging enough without someone who isn’t even having lessons getting on better than me.