“Just listen to these 16 bars,” Mr. Scott said to the unassuming
black man, who I later learned could play like Chester Washington from “Earth
Wind & Fire.”
In all of its beauty, the stereophonic sax solo rang out, transforming
Mr. Scott’s cluttered front room into the moodiest of jazz clubs. I had just walked in through the screened-in
front door, but now stood equally transfixed by the many colors of the sultry
saxophone that caressed our faces, causing our eyebrows to curl upward and our
eyelids to squeeze tight.
The sax solo was from the 1939 jazz standard “Body and Soul,”
first recorded by Louis Armstrong and now with hundreds of versions, including this one by Westchester musician Joe Stelutti. It brought me to my happy place.
“Mmmm,” I swayed and swooned.
A hidden gem down a suburban side street in Yonkers, NY, Scott
Music Instrument Rental & Repair is a home-based workshop that preserves
the art of musical instrument repair – all due to its namesake, master
technician and gifted musician, Virgil Scott.
The longer you are allowed to stay, the more you learn about Mr. Scott who worked with Tony Bennett, played the flute for the Paul Winter Consort and still gigs with his own group, The Virgil Scott Orchestra. I happily head to see him when my son Jake’s alto sax needs fixing and try to stay as long as possible. His approach is old school and his workshop takes me back to the days when mom-and-pop shops were more the norm. And, the big band orchestra music he plays makes me long for the music of the 40’s, decades before I was even born. I come away moved, inspired, and reminded of how I much I miss my stint as a wannabe singer and musician.
Mr. Scott turns his attention to me.
“I’m not sure you remember me,” I say. “I was here about a year and a half ago. In exchange
for your incomparable services, I sent you a CD. Lady Gaga I think?”
“Oh!” he smiled. “You
are the singer. Let’s go.” And we headed
downstairs to the basement workshop.
This is where the magic happens. Lying in piles on wooden shelves and stacked on the floor are the bones of wind, brass, keyboard and string instruments. There are boxes and boxes of mouthpieces, necks and instrument bodies.
On his scarred worktable, there are tools of every kind
scattered about in disarray and small plastic drawers stuffed with the tinier
parts. This is where Mr. Scott repairs
the thousands of instruments that are delivered to his shop.
Running his expert hands down the keys of Jake’s saxophone,
Mr. Scott instantly diagnosed that the pad on the D key needed replacing. In no
time, it was pitch perfect. I know this
because he treated me to a rhythmic rendition of “Mack the Knife” and a sweet
study of “When You Wish Upon a Star.” To
say I was fahklempt is putting it mildly.
So how did I find Virgil Scott?
In my school days, the band teacher would repair my
saxophone’s minor glitches, and the local music store took care of the trickier
fixes. But today, musical instrument repair shops are getting harder and harder
to find, and a truly gifted technician is a rarity in any neighborhood. But, a few years ago, I found myself in a
predicament – a broken saxophone and nowhere to go for repair.
The saga wasn’t my own.
It all came about when our nearby music store and repair shop sold out,
went bust and tried to compensate by opening a small shop 30 miles north, which
was really just smoke and mirrors. I,
along with many others, was left with a broken rental and no
reimbursement. Not to be deterred, I
headed north and was directed by the distracted clerk to a barn next door that
was filled with broken instruments.
“If you can find one that works, you can have it,” he said.
What do you call a barn filled with broken musical
instruments instead of livestock? That’s
a riddle I’m still working out, but it sure was a smelly adventure – and not
the earthy manure smell of horses and cows, but the musty and moldy odor of
decaying metal flutes, trumpets, tubas and saxophones.
So there I found myself, alone and surrounded by cases of instruments
stacked to the rafters. I easily located the saxophone “stall” and opened case
after case, extracting the saxophone from the molded velvet, fingering the keys
and running C scales. Some of the keys
just fell off in my hands, and some were glued shut. But, one sax sounded great and only had one
broken key. I recognized the pre-eminent Yamaha brand – the same brand as the
beloved sax I played as a kid, (which I regrettably sold in exchange for a trip
to Florida…what a mistake and what I wouldn’t give to have it back!). I decided to take this one home and make some
calls.
Ultimately, it was my mom who told me to call our hometown
music store. Although it turned out that they no longer did repairs, they
highly recommend Mr. Virgil Scott. And,
after my first visit to his one-of-a-kind workshop, I was sold.
Back at the shop, Mr. Scott did one final improvisational
run on Jake’s sax and then declared it to be a quality instrument. “Whatever sound and effort you put into this
instrument, you will get out,” he told me.
“Now let’s sing.”
“Oh, I haven’t sung in 20 years!” I purred, eagerly
following him to his keyboards, like a cat to her catnip. Mr. Scott pulled out
a book of Noel Coward standards. He played a couple of tunes and then he looked
up at me.
“Now you are a woman, so I need to change the key. Most women sing in the key of F or G.”
Yes, I am in fact, a woman, and I guess I was gonna sing.
“Do you know any Cole Porter?” I asked, and with that his fingers dug into Night and Day, the song I performed at
17 with my friend Elliott at a summer stock theatre in Maine. I remembered most
of the lyrics, including the romantic phrasing of, “Whether near to me or far,
it doesn’t matter darling where you are I think of you…”
“Do you know That’s
All,” Mr. Scott asked?
“Yes!” I yelped. Were
the music gods here in this workshop with me? How out of a zillion possible
songs did he pick Night and Day and That’s All, two songs that had so much
sentimental value?
“I recorded That’s All
for my mom on her 60th birthday,” I said. “She loves Nat King Cole and it was her and
my dad’s song.”
And so he played, and I sang. Not very well mind you, and without many of
the right lyrics…but with a big smile on my face.
And then with Jake’s saxophone fixed, and my musical-self newly inspired, my visit was over.
We headed back upstairs and I turned the conversation to the
proper payment for his incredible services.
He waved me away, more interested in choosing just the right CDs for me
to take home – his Still Swinging by
The Virgil Scott Orchestra, and New
York’s Rainbow Room Classics, with him on the tenor sax and Greg Wilder
crooning away to one of my favorites, The
Way You Look Tonight. And, of
course, the heart-rendering Body and
Soul.
So, once again, I guess I have no other choice but to
attempt to return the favor, and send him a CD or two from my own
collection. And, I think I know just the
right ones…
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