Get This. I’m listening to a recording by Pete Townshend. He’s the guy who wrote “I hope I die before I get old.”  It’s a live recording of a benefit concert for The Maryville Academy. Townshend and his quintet have been ably recorded by the House of Blues. Pete Townshend has not escaped old, but he’s still cranking out some good old fashioned Maximum R&B.

It’s not something that I’d ever heard of. It’s one of those surplus oddities that leap out at you when you’re browsing the clearance bookshops. If nothing, it’s a demonstration of Townshend’s relevance. I guess since his early utterances about age and relevance, he’s had to struggle with keeping his. He’s not doing too bad of a job.

I have to confess that I struggle with the same problem. I keep noticing that I’m not exactly a kid any longer, and like everyone else, my sensibilities are changing. As a saxophonist, I don’t feel too bad about what I can do with the horn. My technique keeps improving, and my solos make a little more sense. I mention this odd insecurity of mine because I’m hanging with some much younger players these days, and I keep wondering if I my approach to music is too weird.

I’m just a rock musician. I’ve dabbled at jazz music because I’m a sax player. But importantly, I am a rock player. I play rock music with other rock musicians regularly. The only aspect of jazz that might remain is there’s a lot of improvisation and making things up as  we go along. Otherwise, it’s plain old rock music.

It’s an odd challenge to play a horn, because as a listener, I tend to think that most of the time, a solo horn in a rock band is just out of place. It’s really hard to figure out how to play this screechy oversized kazoo, and make it relevant in the context. The sax has all the right elements. It’s loud and has a less than subtle timbre most of the time. Rock music is rife with all sorts of noisy sounds. I guess you could say that Hendrix cast a long shadow. But the tension remains, and for some damn reason, the saxophone just doesn’t fit too easily into a rock band. It’s been done, but it’s not too common.

My feelings haven’t changed since Steve, Gordie and Larry invited me to a jam at a very bohemian space on Eastern Avenue. Appropriately, they cranked it to 11 and did the best version of Communication Breakdown I’ve ever heard. This was some time in 1984. I’ve been winging it ever since.