This post is the original essay I wrote for Perry Kay. I posted February 11th - Perry Kay on social media, but wanted to record this for later.
This year, as a 60-turning-61 white man, I am going to highlight African Americans that have had some kind of influence in my life. Some are famous, some are friends, and others are just people. #blackhistorymonth
February 11th - Perry Kay
I grew up in Houston in the mid-70s to early 80s. For some reason, the Houston area was a hotbed of jazz education. Almost every junior high and high school had a jazz band. It was quite amazing. My theory is that the school districts chose to fund jazz programs instead of really pumping money into marching band.
My parents put me in the Vanguard program, Houston’s schools for the academically advanced students, for junior high. I was waitlisted for the premier school, and spent two weeks at the other Vanguard junior high. Burbank was a rough place in a bad neighborhood. My mother spent those two weeks on the phone, and when somebody did not show up at Lanier, I was in.
Burbank’s band program was a joke. Lanier, on the other hand, had the Lanier Stage Band, directed by Perry Kay. Mr. Kay was a graduate of North Texas State University (now the University of North Texas), the best jazz school in the country, and was a fabulous saxophone player.
He was not particularly well-spoken, but he knew his stuff, and he was good at managing the kids. He also built the stage band from the ground up. He started the program my first year at Lanier. The results were good; the band was not terrible. Nobody improvised yet, but we did go to the Wharton Jazz Festival, and the TSU Jazz Festival.
A side-note here: Mr. Kay pointed out bands on the schedule at TSU that we should make the time to listen to, but we were basically own from the early morning (we were the first band to play), until the awards ceremony that evening. I spent most of the day in the TSU Student Center playing pinball, eating junk food, and jamming out to the popular black music of 1976. It was this amazing mixture of Parliament, Kool and the Gang, and other funk, and lots of disco. It was AWESOME.
I set next to the bari sax player in 7th grade, and was totally intrigued by the instrument, so when the bari player graduated, I asked Mr. Kay if I could try it. He brought me the baritone, and one reed (first one is free!), and had me put the horn together and try it out. My first impression was the smell when I opened the case. It can only be described as old metal instrument funk, a smell that all old school saxophones acquire over years of use by kids who don’t care.
I put it on the ground, and had to sit on a phone book to reach the mouthpiece. I blew my first note, a G, and loved it. I then went down the scale to the low Bb, the lowest note on the horn, and blew it as loud as I could.
It was the most powerful I had felt to that point in my life. I was completely and thoroughly hooked for life.
Mr. Kay then played me records of bari players and I was in another world. We were playing the Neil Hefti tune “Lil Darlin’”, from the Count Basie book. He played the record in class for us, and Charlie Fowlkes put glissandos, creschendos, and flourishes in the part. I initially copied his playing, but since I did not own the record, I made it my own. At the TSU festival that spring, I got the award for outstanding bari sax for junior high based on that part.
Mr. Kay taught us the blues scale. At home, I pulled out the mimeographed handout he gave us with the notes on it, and I started messing around. At one point, I played a blues lick that was awesome (I wish I remembered it now!), and something clicked in me. I wanted to do this. THIS. This making up stuff. This improvisation.
I did not really learn any improvisation until high school, but this planted the seed.
In 8th grade, Mr. Kay posted a notice on the bulletin board about a group called Houston All-City Orchestra. They were having auditions in two weeks. I asked Mr. Kay about it, and he told me that he doubted I could do it, since I played saxophone, and orchestras normally did not have those. I asked if I could take a bass clarinet home and try to get good enough to try out with that. He let me.
I honked and squawked on that thing everyday until I could play the bass clarinet part for the hardest concert band piece that we were playing, and tried out at Johnston Junior High. Mr. Munson let me in the orchestra, but he also had me bring a tenor sax. Youth orchestra arrangements sometimes had parts. So I played tenor and bass clarinet in All-City Orchestra, and Mr. Kay put me on bass clarinet in concert band.
Mr. Kay wanted us to have fancy vests as a uniform, but he did not have the budget. My mother stepped up, designed a very simple vest, and then made the 25 or so for the band.
My parents purchased a professional portable Nakamichi cassette deck and good microphones when I was in 6th grade, and Mom recorded our school concerts from then on, so I have recordings of my Lanier performances. For what they are, they are pretty good.
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