Cannonball Adderley on the Soprano Sax

In his 1970 DownBeat interview, Cannonball Adderley reflected on his struggles with the soprano saxophone:

“It’s a total new experience for me because it is not like the alto sax or the tenor sax; it takes another kind of technique to play it well. I have much more admiration for Sidney Bechet now than I ever did, although I always loved him musically.

This realization hits home for anyone who has spent serious time with the soprano. I still cringe thinking of my first notes. I actually made the fatal mistake of accepting a recording session after having owned it for only a few weeks. Big mistake. I’d just graduated from Berklee and needed the money. However, the guilt of having sabotaged that poor guys session was not what I needed.

Like many saxophonists, I assumed that because it shares fingerings with the alto and tenor, transitioning to it should be straightforward. This could not be further from the truth. But Adderley was right—it demands an entirely different approach. The embouchure is less forgiving, air support must be more focused, and the instrument’s inherent instability means that control is everything.

For a musician as masterful as Adderley to acknowledge this speaks volumes. It suggests that even the most accomplished saxophonists cannot simply “pick up” the soprano and expect to sound great. The instrument demands commitment. And people aware of my journey, know that "commitment" is my middle name.

Adderley was an alto master—his tone, articulation, and phrasing were second to none. But even he quickly recognized that the soprano is its own beast. His words challenge a common assumption among saxophonists: that the soprano is just a smaller saxophone, a quick doubling instrument. In reality, it requires a complete recalibration of approach.

This is something I’ve seen over and over. Many players pick up the soprano for its range and expressiveness, only to struggle with pitch control and sound depth. They can play fast, but the notes often end up as some sonic mush. Adderley’s comment reminds us that the soprano doesn’t reward casual engagement. You either put in the work, or the instrument exposes you.

One of Adderley’s keenist observations was about the soprano’s notorious tuning difficulties:

“The technical aspects of being a good soprano saxophone player are frightening. You have to use what we call a tempered intonation concept because you can’t find an instrument that is really built in tune. Consequently, as you play, you have to make adjustments for the intonation in order to maintain a sound."

Frightening is the right word. Even today, despite decades of instrument design improvements, a perfectly in-tune soprano saxophone is hard to find--even though it's getting close. The player is responsible for making real-time pitch corrections, often on a subconscious level. It’s not just about knowing which notes are sharp or flat—it’s about developing the ability to bend pitch instinctively while maintaining a consistent sound. Oral cavity awareness is everything.

This is one of the main reasons so few saxophonists truly master the soprano. It requires a heightened sense of intonation compared to other saxophones. On an alto or tenor, you can get away with minor pitch inconsistencies—on a soprano, they stick out like a sore thumb. Adderley clearly grasped this reality early on, and it may explain why he never made the instrument a major part of his voice.

Adderley also touched on the soprano saxophone’s lineage, acknowledging two dominant figures:

“Of course, John Coltrane was the outstanding modern soprano sax player, so it is difficult to find some way to play an instrument which only has the major Sidney Bechet and John Coltrane influences ongoing."

This is a fascinating statement. In 1970, it was largely true—the soprano saxophone, at least in the jazz world, was still defined by these two giants. Bechet’s explosive, vibrato-heavy New Orleans style represented one lineage, while Coltrane’s modal explorations created a new modern framework. Lacy was around, and certainly had made several landmark recordings, but he was documenting a lot of his important work in Europe during this period.

But what about today? Have we moved beyond this binary? Absolutely! Steve Lacy pioneered a stark, angular approach, treating the soprano as a vehicle for avant-garde improvisation. Wayne Shorter developed a more fluid, compositional a voice. Jane Ira Bloom, Evan Parker, and Dave Liebman have each pushed the instrument into new sonic territories. And as quiet as it’s kept, Branford Marsalis created a new post-bop/Ornette Coleman sensibility that brought a new generation of saxophonists to the straight horn table.

Adderley's words still resonate today because they capture something every serious soprano player understands: this instrument doesn’t come easy. It requires precision, patience, and a willingness to engage with its challenges. Adderley’s brief encounter with the soprano may not have led to a lasting relationship, but his reflections on it remain as relevant as ever.

For those of us who have put in the time, there’s no greater reward than finding a true voice on the soprano sax. It may not be built in tune, but when played with mastery, there’s nothing else like it.

Here's an example of Cannonball doing his rare soprano thing on his 1968 release, Accent on Africa.

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Shout out to all of my straight horn brothers and sisters, spreading the tonal message. These are in no particular order of importance. And I apologize to those whose names I may have overlooked.

Jane Bunnett

Harri Sjöström 

Jan Gabarek

Kayla Milmine

Jonathan Kay

Gianni Mimmo

Michael Veal

Michel Doneda

Michael Foster

Rodney Chapman

John Butcher

Vinny Golia

Catherine Sikora

And many others....

Embracing the Unscripted: Five Benefits from Playing Improvised Music

Live at Freddy's Backroom with Eric Mandat, Brittney Karlson, and Nick Neuburg. Photo by Peter Gannushkin.

In recent years, I’ve found myself increasingly drawn to the world of improvised music—a realm where traditional boundaries dissolve and spontaneity takes on new meaning. While my background is rooted in straight-ahead jazz, where rhythm and harmony serve as the foundation, the freedom afforded by improvised music offers an entirely different creative landscape. It’s a place where the absence of preset rhythmic, harmonic, or melodic structures challenges me to invent on the spot and engage with the music in fresh, unexpected ways. This openness is a privilege, and although I hesitate to label myself an “improviser” in the purest sense, I have immense respect for those who inhabit this space daily.

Improvised music can be intimidating to musicians accustomed to the well-defined forms of traditional genres. For many, the transition may seem daunting because, unlike hard bop or other structured styles, improvised music does not rely on stringent harmonic or rhythmic frameworks. Yet, beyond its inherent unpredictability lies a host of benefits that can enrich any musician’s approach to improvisation and ensemble playing. Here are five significant advantages that improvised music offers to players of all styles and calibers:

1. Learning to Play More Spontaneously

One of the most liberating aspects of improvised music is its demand for spontaneity. Without a predetermined blueprint, every performance becomes a journey into the unknown. Musicians are encouraged to trust their instincts and allow ideas to evolve naturally in the moment. This skill—of performing with no fixed agenda—transcends genre boundaries, cultivating a flexibility that enhances creativity in any musical context. Whether you’re engaging in a structured solo or a collective improvisation, embracing spontaneity can open new pathways to expression.

2. Heightened Listening and Communication

In conventional musical settings, each musician often occupies a well-defined role. This can sometimes lead to a situation where individual players perform their parts without fully engaging with one another. In improvised music, however, every sound and gesture matters. With no score or set roles to rely on, players must listen intently to capture the direction and emotion of the moment. This heightened awareness fosters a deeper connection between musicians, enabling a more responsive and interactive performance. The result is a dynamic conversation where every instrument contributes to a constantly evolving narrative.

3. A Focus on Texture and Dynamics

Traditional forms often emphasize melodic lines and rhythmic patterns, but improvised music shifts the focus to the creation of soundscapes. In this context, texture and dynamics become essential tools for shaping the musical narrative. The static nature of some improvised passages invites musicians to explore subtle changes in timbre and volume, thereby cultivating moods that go beyond the typical constructs of melody and rhythm. This approach allows players to experiment with silence, space, and the interplay between different sonic elements, enriching the overall palette of the performance.

4. A Platform for Extended Techniques

Improvised music is renowned for its embrace of extended techniques—those unconventional methods that expand an instrument’s expressive range. Whether it’s producing two-fisted chordal clusters, experimenting with multi-phonics, or even incorporating everyday objects as percussive elements (imagine hitting a drumset with a fork or spoon), improvised music provides a fertile ground for innovation. These techniques challenge the traditional limits of instrument performance, inviting musicians to think outside the box and express their individuality in truly unique ways. This experimental spirit not only broadens one’s technical abilities but also pushes the boundaries of what is considered musically possible.

5. Rethinking Solo Architecture and Pacing

In a conventional song form, solos often follow a predictable arc. In improvised music, however, the absence of a preset structure forces musicians to consider the architecture of their solos more deliberately. Without the safety net of a defined chord progression or rhythm section, players must carefully craft the beginning, development, and conclusion of their improvisation. This self-awareness leads to a more deliberate pacing and a heightened sensitivity to the overall flow of the performance. The challenge lies in balancing spontaneity with structure—finding the right moments to push forward or pull back, building tension, and ultimately creating a coherent musical statement from seemingly disparate ideas.

Conclusion

While improvised music may not be for every musician, its benefits are undeniable. By embracing spontaneity, listening more intently, focusing on texture and dynamics, exploring extended techniques, and rethinking solo architecture, players can cultivate a deeper, more intuitive approach to music-making. These skills not only enrich improvised performances but also bring a fresh perspective to more conventional styles. Whether you’re a seasoned improviser or someone looking to expand your sonic vocabulary, improvised music offers invaluable lessons in creativity, expression, and collaboration.

The Lizard Brain and the Fear of the Unknown: How Survival Instincts Kill Creativity

Deep in the core of our brain lies the amygdala, often called the “lizard brain.” One might say it’s a relic of our evolutionary past, designed to keep us alive. When faced with danger, it triggers the fight-or-flight response—an automatic reaction meant to protect us from threats. But in the modern world—filled with iPhones and social media, where survival is rarely about outrunning four-legged predators, this same mechanism sabotages creativity by making us fear the unknown.

Creativity demands risk. This is non-negotiable. It requires stepping into uncharted territory, making connections others don’t see, running towards the darkness, not the light, embracing the possibility of failure. Easier said than done, mind you. The lizard brain sees all of this as a threat. It whispers:

What if this idea doesn’t work? 

What if people laugh at you? 

What if you waste your time? 

These fears, rooted in our biology, can manifest as perfectionism, procrastination, self-doubt, or clinging to familiar formulas instead of pushing boundaries.

Great artists, musicians, and thinkers have all had to wrestle with this resistance. The difference between those who create and those who don’t isn’t talent alone—it’s the ability to push past the fear. The jazz musician who dares to improvise beyond the comfort of familiar licks, the writer who puts controversial ideas to paper, the composer who experiments with dissonance—each of them has learned to override the lizard brain’s instinct to retreat.

 David Bowie said it best: “If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area.”

Personally, I’m in constant battle with the lizard brain. But I have to remind myself that even though the lizard brain thinks it’s keeping me safe, the reality is that it’s keeping me stagnant.

One of the best ways to counteract this resistance is to recognize it for what it is: a biological reflex, not reality. Fear of failure isn’t an actual threat; it’s a signal that you’re on the edge of something new, something daring. By reframing fear as a necessary companion to creativity rather than an obstacle, we can learn to move forward in spite of it.

The lizard brain is never going away. And once you learn to use it to your advantage, you’ll see it as a signaling of new and exciting things to come. It will always try to pull you back into the blanket of the familiar. This is just the lizard brain being the lizard brain. But creativity lives in the unknown, and the only way to reach it is to override the part of your brain that tells you to stay safe. Or in the creative realm, to play safe. 

Wayne Shorter, one of jazz’s most forward-thinking musicians, famously said, “You’ve got to go into the unknown. The unknown is where all the music is.” 

I wouldn’t say that it’s where all of the music is. But it’s certainly the place where the most daring music lives.  

As someone who plays a lot improvised music, I have trained myself to embrace uncertainty by making it a habit—reacting in real time, trusting instincts, and accepting mistakes as part of the process. Over time, repeated exposure to this rewires the brain, making uncertainty less intimidating and more inviting. Whether in music or life, improvisation provides a framework for stepping beyond fear and into discovery, proving that mastery is not about control but about embracing the unpredictable.

The unknown isn’t the enemy. It’s where the real magic happens.