Back to Basics

Oh, yes. Oh, indeed. Well done, US Department of Education. How gracious of you to exempt schools and districts decimated by hurricanes from meeting the testing benchmarks for the year. You schools who have no buildings and no homes from which the students can come? Yeah, don't worry about the testing. We're waiving your requirements this year. That's a freebie. But boy, next year, you better watch your asses.

Two True Things

It's official. After an outrageously drawn-out waiting period (which made me very nervous, I can now freely admit), I have been officially admitted to the Graduate College of UNLV. The letter is hanging on the refrigerator as we speak. And may I add that I can now wear my Rebels hat without feeling a little bit like a poseur. I am well pleased.

To celebrate, you should all join me in checking out this link. (Hat tip: The Kat.) Read the whole thing, because it is terribly funny, and, even better than being funny, it is 100% safe for work. So enjoy! (Reiterated hat tip: The Kat.)

And now, here's a story from Rich, my lithium-popping, whoremongering co-worker from New Jersey. "Hey, man," he says, walking up to me at the counter. "You know, every time I go to LA, my cell phone breaks? Yeah, every fucking time." Rich always walks up to me and starts talking like the conversation has already been going on for a few minutes.

"No way. That's too bad, man."

"Oh, tell me about it. But it's not like this one time. One night, I picked up this hooker and her friend down at the Grand--" general laughter from the other employees who have been around for a while and who have heard this story before "-- and while we're driving back to my place, the hooker's friend asks if she can use my cell phone. I say yeah and hand it to her, and she makes a bunch of calls which is totally cool. See, I didn't realize she was holding it for collateral. They do that sometimes."

"Huh."

"Yeah. Hold stuff for collateral. So we get back to my place, and the hooker is gorgeous, but she doesn't know what she's doing and she can't finish the job." I shake my head here, mostly because, while he relates this story, there are a large number of customers milling around in the shop, including some adolescent boys who are conspicuously "not" listening to Rich's story. I hear the manager's voice giving all of us counter help additional "training" on how to behave around customers. Right. "So we get back in my car so I can take them back to the Grand. And they're complaining because I'm not going to pay them. They want a hundred bucks, but they didn't finish the job, so I'm not gonna pay them."

"Huh."

"So they nag and nag, and finally I say 'okay, let's stop at this 7-11. I'll use the ATM.' And they like this idea. So we pull up out front and they want to come in with me. I hold the door open for them -- because I'm a gentleman and my mother taught me right -- and they go right back to the ATM at the back of the store. Now I realize that they're way back there and that my car is right next to the door... so I jump in my car and drive away!" He starts laughing really, really hard. "I just ditched the hookers at the 7-11!" It takes him thirty seconds or so, but he recovers his composure -- I've been laughing politely -- and then he gets serious again. "But I had forgotten that the one hooker still had my cell phone. So that's the story about the time when a hooker stole my cell phone." And without another word, he turns and walks away.

Both of these things -- my admission to UNLV and the story about the thieving prostitute and her inconsiderate john -- actually happened right here in Las Vegas. The neon isn't the only thing keeping this town colorful.

The Odyssey Continues

Having found out that the price to beat for a fine-quality new tenor sax is somewhere around $1275, I have continued my search and broadened it to include several vintage tenor models from back in the day. I have become particularly interested in the Buffet-Crampon Dynaction and Super Dynaction horns from the 1940s-1960s. When I was in high school, my sax teacher played a Buffet Dynaction alto, and the sound was fantastic. Truly dark and rich with just a hint of that old-school jazz stuffiness. I never played it myself, but I heard it every week for five years... so I feel like I have a pretty good idea for how they stack up.

As a side note to all the non-Sax Heads out there, the benchmark to which all tenor saxophones are compared is a horn by Selmer called the Mark VI. These horns (obviously, no longer produced) are so excellent that Selmer itself issued a newly-designed horn that mimics all the design characteristics of the Mark VI. Both a vintage Mark VI and a new Selmer re-visualization of the Mark VI can be had for anywhere between $4000 and $7000, depending on the vintage horn's condition or the degree to which you're getting gouged by your local Selmer dealer.

These Buffets, however, were designed to compete directly with the original Mark VI and the previous Selmer model (the Super Balanced Action), and, according to the Community, they do. As far as I'm concerned, the sound is nearly identical. The thing that would be different, of course, is the keywork, and that can only be explored by playing the horns. Here's the thing: whereas a mint-condition Mark VI with a desirable serial number will cost you upwards of $5000, these Buffets -- largely because of small-batch production and smaller dealer networks in the US -- will cost under $1500 in identical condition. It's as though these horns are sleepers. And they're pretty to look at too.

So it's just another thing to think about. All this searching has led me to wonder how people made these kinds of decisions before the Internet was around to assist them. Did you just ask around and hope that the people you know are knowledgeable about whatever it is you need to know? And how did you buy things like a new saxophone in those Dark Times? Would I, for example, have had to make a purpose-designed trip to New York or LA and then poke around all the sax shops in town until I found what I was looking for? I don't mean to sound like a baby, but that's awfully inconvenient. What a remarkable modern age we live in.

"I am the original Lounge-Lizard Drummer."

So said my friend and co-worker Ed Grell when The Madame and I went to see him and his band The Sunspots play down at The Plaza last night. Man, nothing beats having Santana's "Smooth" dedicated to you and your wife by your lizardy friend in a real-deal Las Vegas lounge. There's not much to say about the show that Madame Flamingo hasn't already said, but I will say that, after only six weeks or so, I'm more dialed in to the local music scene here than I was after twenty-one years in Minnesota. For example, after he heard me blowing some old memorized Parker riffs to test out some of the new saxophones that came into the shop, Ed cordially invited me to bring my sax and sit in any time I was free. For those of you playing the home game, that means that I now have a standing invitation to come by and jam live onstage at places like The Plaza, The Golden Nugget, Mandalay Bay, and Caesar's (just to name a few). Every single one of those places is much cooler than anywhere I ever played back in Minnesota, and the possibility for exposure is massive; this is why, as we speak, I am having cards made so that I might disseminate the Gospel of Buckwalter to anybody showing an interest.

In other local news, word on the street is that Westward Ho going to be the next old-school casino to bite the dust; you can read all about it here. Sadly for Marathon Man, he'll miss the Ho's last day of business by almost a month, but we simply must make room for more condos. The article makes it sound like the deal is very hush-hush, but it's pretty much an open secret around here. Rich, the Lithium-popping cokehead whoremonger and erstwhile manager of our teensie guitar department has actually already put some money down on one of the new condos in the as-yet-to-be-named development, so the whole thing is moving forward. Looks like we'll have to find another casino with gambler-friendly Let It Ride tables.

And yes, I said that Rich is a whoremonger. He told me all about his most recent encounter just a few days ago, but that's another story altogether. Let's just say that he was much later for work than he had intended, mostly owing to the fact that the massage parlor... uh, I mean motel... over in Pahrump is a little bit farther away than he thought. It's Vegas, baby. That's how we roll.

Autumn in Las Vegas

All of a sudden, the weather here has changed. It's like somebody flipped a switch; what was blazing hot by day and toasty at night has now become absolutely gorgeous by day and pants-weather at night. We had four or five days of very strong west winds coming in over the mountains, but those have now, for the most part, died away, and what's left is perfect weather.

The effect on the people here is a lot like what happens in Minnesota sometime late in March or in early April, when the weather has moderated and you see people poking their heads out of their winter holes to go roller-blading and getting back into being outside. The same thing's happening here: all those Porsche roadsters and 6 Series coupes are driving around topless; people are eating outside on the patios of restaurants; you see people going for runs in the afternoon.

The thing that's kind of funny about it is that it's not actually all that cool; our daily highs have been in the mid-80s. But when you go from highs in the high 100s to the 80s in less than a week, it feels downright chilly. I'll admit that I'm a part of it too. When The Madame and I walked over to the brewery last weekend to celebrate the new union of Mr. and Mrs. Muffin (congratulations, by the way), I wore jeans and didn't once regret it. I guess it's official: I'm local now.

September 13: A Sax Odyssey

WARNING: The following post is deeply saxophone-centric, and is pretty much intended for the two (or three if you throw in my father) Sax Heads who regularly read this blog. Read on if you like, but things are about to get pretty nerdy pretty quickly. Consider yourself warned.

So, having made the decision sometime last week that what I really need right now is to add a new tenor saxophone to my collection -- which right now is comprised entirely of one alto saxophone -- I set out to Harness the Power of the Internet in order to see what was out there. Since my alto is a Yamaha 62, I am already intimately familiar with the qualities of Yamaha instruments, and since I played both the Selmer Serie II and Serie III tenors while at St. Olaf, I know all about those. I am also fortunate enough to have a very generous friend in G-Money, who often lent me his Selmer Reference 36 tenor, and if my budget allowed me to buy a seven thousand dollar tenor, the Reference 36 would be my top choice, along with the Serie III.

Sadly, all of the Selmers -- even used -- are out of my price range at the moment... and besides, if I was going to throw down that kind of money, I'd probably also be looking at a vintage Selmer Mark VI tenor. But since I can't really justify that kind of expenditure right now, that's a conversation that will have to wait. What I did say to myself was that I needed to look at instruments that are below $2000, and the farther below $2000, the better. But it must be a good horn, it must look good, and it needs to be a professional caliber-horn, since, when I think about it, I really am a professional-caliber player.

Those requirements left me with several good options, and I investigated further. I came up with the following four options: the P. Mauriat PMST-66R, the B&S Medusa, the Kessler Custom, and the Yamaha YTS-82Z. The Medusa wound up getting crossed off pretty early, since, even though I really like the look, it's not being made anymore, and the word on the street is that the production facility went seriously downhill towards the end of the final production run. Nuts to that. The leaves the Kessler, the Mauriat, and the Yamaha Z. This is where I began my odyssey this morning.

One of the neat things about living in a city with literally thousands of professional sax players is that there are actually shops which cater to people who aren't looking for the cheapest hunk of tin to buy for their child. (Side note: Mayor, if you're still thinking about Element, you might want to open a branch out here... it would boom.) However, just because the shops carry the high-end stuff doesn't mean that the people who work there have any idea what they're doing. With that in mind, I called over to the local Yamaha dealer because, even though the Z is actually way outside my price range, I love my alto and am exceptionally curious about the unlacquered version that the Z comes in. So I get some clerk on the line and tell them I'm looking for a specific tenor sax, namely the YTS-82ZUL (UL for UnLacquered). He goes away to check and I eat some Pop Tarts. He comes back and tells me that they don't have any of the Zs in stock, but he offers me two options: he can order me one (not happening, since I won't be buying until January at the earliest... and besides, I'm not going to buy a sax I've never played just because I think I'd probably like it), or he can offer me what he calls a "comparable" horn. What horn is that, I asked him. He offers me the YTS-475, which Yamaha refers to as "a great step-up horn for the growing young saxophonist." I told the guy -- very politely -- that I wasn't interested, and mentally shelved the idea of buying a Z for the time being.

Happily, the Kessler Custom horn is made by a shop here in Las Vegas, so I mounted up The Cheat and drove way over to the other side of town to blow their horn. As you may have noticed, these are almost ridiculously affordable instruments, and they're made in Taiwan. Neither makes you feel particularly good about their potential quality, but the possibility of buying a tenor saxophone for under a thousand is enough to make me get in my car and drive just to check it out.

The east side branch of Kessler & Sons Music is in an old-school wooden strip-mall which features a gas station, a convenience store, and three separate storefront churches, all with bars on the windows because the east side of Las Vegas is pretty much a war zone at night. But I had read some really remarkable things about these horns on the internet, so I boldly walked in and, after telling the counter help that I was there for saxes, I was immediately introduced to Dave Kessler himself. He told me some things about his in-house Kessler saxes (I'd relate them, but that's pretty much too nerdy, even for this post), and then gave me one to check out. Because Kessler & Sons is a real-deal sax shop, he even let me try the horn with a few different mouthpieces, a few different ligatures, and even a few different necks from other horns. The best setup by far was with the Kessler pro mouthpiece (a hard rubber job modeled after the metal Florida Link), my Vandoren 3s, and a goldbrass neck from a Selmer Serie III. Frankly, I was totally blown away by the quality and responsiveness of this horn. I could have sworn the keywork was right off my old Serie III, and it blew better than my Yamaha 62 alto. And the best part, of course, is that even with all those upgrades -- and with Nevada's obscene 7.75% sales tax -- the whole deal was out the door for $1275.

I still have to look into the P. Mauriat horns -- I think the closest dealer is in Denver, so that's going to be a difficult proposition -- and I really want to try that un-lacquered Yamaha Z, but for now I'm pretty much sold on the Kessler. Great horn, killer sound, and I can even still get a big gold-on-blue Selmer S up on the neck to make me feel like a Real Boy. G-Money, when you roll up next month, and if you have some spare time to go on an odyssey of your own, we should head over there so you can dig these too. I think you'll be surprised; I definitely was.

Class in America

A few days ago, G-Money referred with exceptional obliqueness to race relations (a conversation for which I wait with baited breath), and while there is a lot to say about that, any conversation about race eventually becomes a conversation about class. Since I've been meaning to write about Class in America for several months, I thought I'd eliminate the middle man and make it happen.

First of all, it's important to acknowledge that although our system affords greater social mobility than most, there exists a fairly rigid class structure in our society. People can move between classes if you have enough money or enough education, but the structure itself remains intact no matter how easily people move through it. And even though you can yourself move through classes -- either climbing the ladder or making your way downwards -- it's important to remember that class is a gift we give our children. No matter how hard we work, how much we earn, or how many country club memberships we accumulate, we are still stuck in the class to which we are born; our children come from the class in which we live.

For example, I went to high school with a guy whose father had not gone to college. Nevertheless, he -- the father -- was an intelligent and diligent man, and in fifteen short years, he built the largest concrete construction firm in Minnesota. Even though he lived in a solidly upper-middle-class neighborhood, owned three homes, and drove a Cadillac, he was still essentially a working-class guy. His son, though, belonged to the upper-middle-class community in which he had been born. The son belonged to that class; the father did not.

Or, if you like, think about Bill Gates. One of the richest guys in the world... but he's still just a high school drop-out computer nerd with a lot of money. His two children, however, have been born and are being raised as some of the affluent elite, and will eventually be acknowledged as "belonging" with other children who have names like Rockefeller, Forbes, and Rothschild.

And that's my other point about class: it is the earned and jealously guarded privilege of the middle classes to deny that class exists in America. The poor are painfully aware of the nature of class, and the wealthy are constantly reminded of the assault by the lower classes on their social dominance. But talk to a mid-level banker or an insurance salesman about class, and they will tell you that class is a myth. Middle-class thinkers who deny the reality of class are confusing social mobility and class structure. They might say that since people can move so freely from one class to another, class is not an issue. The clever social observer, though, might note that a high level of social mobility in fact reinforces the foundations of class. After all, what's the point of being rich if the poor aren't jealous of your money?

It is this very issue -- social mobility versus class structure -- that is at the core of conflict between races in our culture, and, I daresay, the jumping off point for where that conversation will go. Senator Lott, whose home in Mississippi was destroyed by Katrina, is, for example, is a much better position to deal with the loss of his home than are most of his poor, black constituents. But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should let Kanye West do the talking. (Hat tip: Marathon Man.)

If Zinger Was a Bandleader in Vegas

Last night, The Madame and I took a hot tip from Ed the Drummer and headed down to the Golden Nugget to see the Lon Bronson All-Star Band at midnight. Word on the street was that some of the guys from Tower of Power (who don't have a decent website for me to link to, damn them) were going to sit in with Bronson's team and light up the night.

Here's the deal: anybody who digs live music and who is in town at midnight on a Saturday is getting dragged down to the Nugget to see these guys with us. You cannot possibly imagine how tight the band is, and how extremely happening their sound is. Six horns, three singers, two drummers, a guitar, bass, and piano make up the finest band I've ever seen playing live. Seriously, those of you out there who are into this kind of music -- you know who you are -- are going to go and see these guys when you blow into town.

And besides how phenomenal the band was by itself, there was a squeedly versus meedley altissimo sax battle that was waged between the tenor player from Bronson's band and the tenor player from Tower of Power. A brief note for the sax-heads in the crowd: it was an all-black, sparkling Yamaha Custom pitted against an ancient, no-lacquer-left Mark VI... I wet myself with glee. These guys were both off the chain and out of the box.

And besides all that, Lon Bronson himself looks the way I picture El Zinga the Mexican Outlaw looking if he became a serious Soul Man and put together a horn band in Las Vegas, complete with scraggly goatee and yellow-tinted onstage sunglasses. If this post seems a little disjointed, it's only because I'm really at a loss to describe how good this band was. If you come and see them, you'll see what I mean.