Swindling Rubes

I see a lot of instrument repairs come through the store, and whenever it happens to be a saxophone, I take a look. There are a lot of kids playing interesting vintage horns that their parents probably bought off eBay without knowing what they were doing, unwittingly supplying their sixth-graders with the legendary Conn 10M (the so-called "Naked Lady") or a handsome Buescher Aristocrat. I don't usually play them, but it is fun to look, especially at the truly unusual saxes from strange transitional periods or from smaller vintage manufacturers.

I've seen an alto very similar to this one come through the shop four times, each time because the student who owns the horn is careless with it and doesn't realize that a soft gig bag doesn't offer the protection of a hard case. This time, it came in to have the body straightened, a repair which set the family back over a hundred bucks. Some kid. But I always check the horn out because -- even though you can't really tell from the picture -- it's a really strange instrument. The keywork features usual keys in unusual places -- a high F# key in the left-hand palm cluster -- and other oddities. Strange stuff.

So I was digging through the case, just checking it out, when I came across something rather remarkable. Apparently, this vintage sax was being played with a very nice vintage mouthpiece. A very nice vintage mouthpiece. A slightly dirty example of the highly sought-after (though not at all rare) vintage Selmer Soloist scroll-shank hard rubber mouthpiece (in the E facing, for the saxheads in the crowd). I cleaned it up a little bit, and it turned out to be in near mint condition. Check it out.

Now this piece, although as I said it is not at all rare, is very well-regarded and sells at the typical outrageous vintage mouthpiece prices from reputable dealers. A quick search of the usual suspects puts a low price of around $150 for a really battered and ugly example to $300 for a pristine, still shiny, kept-in-a-closet example. I think this one falls somewhere in the $250-$275 range, depending on the dealer. Hm, I thought. Should this piece be played by a careless kid who doesn't know what the hell she's doing? Or should it be played by a highly-trained, semi-pro (dashingly handsome) player like myself? No question. I had to buy it.

I called the customer, and let them know that I was a sax player and that I was interested in buying their mouthpiece. "It can't be worth much," said the mother of the student. "I think it's pretty old." I agreed that it was pretty old and offered her $40 plus a new mouthpiece for it. "I'll think about it," she said, and told me that she'd be down later to pick up the sax.

An hour or so later, she sidled into the shop. "What do you think," I said. "Do you want to do it?"

"I don't see why not," she said. "She's only gonna be playing this thing for another three months anyway, and it sounds like you're giving us a really good deal."

Grinning like a fiend on the inside, I said, "Yeah, I think I am."

"Just out of curiosity, why do you want this thing?"

This was my one moment of panic, since my natural response was because it is a remarkable vintage mouthpiece in remarkably good condition and I know that I can screw you by giving you a low-ball worthy of Lance Armstrong. Instead, I said, "Well, you know, I have an interest in old sax things, and this is an old sax thing." She nodded, and was satisfied.

"Now this new mouthpiece... she won't have any trouble with it, right?" I had picked out the Selmer student mouthpiece kit: injection-molded plastic with a plastic cap and ligature.

"Nope. If anything it might even be easier for her to play. The tip isn't quite as open on these newer pieces." I handed over the money and the deal was done. The swindling of the rube was complete.

Victory in the Pacific.

Q's Your Daddy

Among the various benefits of having surrendered one's out-of-state license plates and driver's license in favor of proud, blue, ram-bearing Nevada ones is that you can actually claim to be "local." And while being a local in Las Vegas is usually about as important as being a local in a place like Saskatoon, every once in a while the resort properties over on that one street... I can't quite remember what it's called, but it's got all those hotels and stuff... decide to hook us up.

Mysteriously, as though by some dark magic, a notice arrived in the mail last week from The Madame's educators' union advising us that the Wynn was doing a two-for-one deal on Avenue Q tickets for locals. Snap. Valentine's Day treat? Sounds good. We were on that like an ugly stick on somebody getting beaten up by one.

So, on Friday night, we headed down to that one street... damn, what is that street called... held our breath, and plunged into Steve Wynn's idea of sumptuous luxury. Yum. Orange and purple. Together at last. The theater that hosts the Q is, of course themed, but instead of being all Sesame Streety, it's actually done in an almost understated Art Deco style with large silk screens depicting each of the four seasons. Crystal and glass abound, as does highly polished glass, all of it leading up to the lobby bar. Since Avenue Q isn't like most other musicals -- and since the Wynn isn't like most other venues -- all sorts of booze and snacks -- including popcorn -- are available for purchase, and audience-members are encouraged to bring them in to the theater with them. The Madame and I opted for the specialty drink (called The Fuzzy Q), a glass that starts out with a whole airplane-sized bottle of amaretto poured into the bottom and finishes with frozen orange cream. Flawless victory.

And the show was outstanding. If you don't know about Avenue Q, then there's not much I can do to describe it to you other than this: it's as though Sesame Street grew up, got interested in social issues, kept the puppets, and added sex. Best song from the show: "The Internet is for Porn." Best moment of the show: the puppets declaring -- in the middle of a song -- that George Bush is "only temporary" eliciting wild applause from the crowd. I don't think I've laughed this much at live theater in years, so if you find yourself in New York, Las Vegas, or in a town that's hosting a touring production of the Q, do yourself a favor and check it out. In the words of Ali G, "it's amazing."