I had a dream last night in which my friend Matt bought me an oboe. I was distinctly told it was an oboe, though in recollection it looked more like a clarinet. He seemed terribly pleased with himself, and I gamely tried to learn how to play it, knowing all the while that – like whistling – the best I can achieve from any wind instrument is a vague “phoo” sound. Thus, it’s pretty lucky that I never fell in love with the saxophone.
Most of the world fell out of love with the saxophone in the 90s, and it’s taken 20 years for the new Summer of Sax to appear.