writing

David Hagelganz: Still glowing with his first love By Rachel Bade-McMurphy The lesson: Student and teacher stand several feet apart, facing one another. With heads cocked to the side and saxophones in hand they look upon one another with their dominant eyes, as though waiting to draw. The office is mostly bare of personal décor. Dave Hagelganz is only a few months into in his first year of teaching saxophone at Washington State University where he shares his teaching space with another professor. There are two grand pianos in the middle of the L shaped room with one desk on each side of a large window overlooking the football practice field next to Martin Stadium. On Dave’s desk in the right corner, a grey cloth contoured tenor saxophone case with black trim sits alongside a briefcase, a stainless steel Starbucks thermos, a stack of four or five Aebersold jazz play-along books, and a jazz history book seated on top of three paperback books. On the wall hangs a poster for a recent WSU jazz festival, a school of music faculty contact list and a computer printout of his weekly studio schedule. “So what did you do this week?” Dave asks his student to draw him out. The College aged kid is generic in his response, maybe because he is having trouble describing with words what he understands musically. With a full head of thick brown hair, Dave watches and listens as his student speaks, carefully considering how to respond. Dave’s tall thin body gently shifts back and forth as though rocking the saxophone that hangs from his neck along with limp arms. His fingers tap out note patterns across the keys suggesting an explosion of thoughts firing while considering possible ways to take the lesson. “Do you know any of this kind of stuff?” Dave asks playing a scale pattern like something Michael Brecker would play. Dave’s dress is relaxed, clad in Van skate shoes, jeans and a lightly checked short-sleeved dress shirt. He has no facial hair on his deceptively young looking face. The student attempts to emulate the line, looking upward toward the ceiling as he thinks. He is distracted by where his fingers lead him rather than listening for where his ear is telling him to go. They talk through the line using numbers representing chord tones (flat seven, third, ninth etc) rather than keys and note names because the student is playing alto and Dave is playing tenor; instruments pitched in different keys. Dave uses a Jamie Aebersold play along recording to work the student through a tune. Looks for the accompanying CD, he darts around the room with quick spurts of energy in between spoken phrases to the student about the application of learned lines and patterns. When he finds the CD he’s looking for he appears like a child, complete with wide blue eyes, opening the jewel case with a wispy gasp “ Ahhh… look what I found!” As they workshop through the song Dave tries to force the student to think in shorter phrases. He tells me later that many students vomit memorized devices up in performance. “Its not musical” he tells me. He teaches scale patterns as tools to learn the language and to inspire note choices in the right key. But jazz is about exploration and discovery. I like to think of it like deep sea diving: The things you see in the water may have been there for years, but for you, it’s brand new and the discovery impacts you emotionally. Dave is somewhat of a legend in the Pullman area Jazz scene. He completed his masters at WSU in the 1980’s and has lived in Pullman for many years while working as a middle school band teacher in Lewiston. He has worked with or known some of the greatest and most influential jazz musicians including Joe Henderson and Art Blakey. I’d heard stories of his past performance experience and had seen his quartet at Rico’s (the local jazz club) a few times, performing some of the more innovative music in the venue. When Dave was hired to teach at WSU, this fall of 2008, I was interested in learning more about him as a teacher, saxophonist and person. The Sound: David Hagelganz plays the tenor saxophone effortlessly, using the minimum amount of air necessary to create a full, focused tone. The result is smooth yet vibrant and only slightly louder than a hush. His lines are fluid, evoking a technical mastery that comes from thousands of hours spent fine-tuning. His body movements are natural, un-contorted with his arms remaining relaxed and close to the body, fingers hovering close to the keys as they quickly and effortlessly navigate the familiar territory of a set of chord changes. At 51 years of age, with a practice regimen ranging from two to six hours per day, he as put between thirty and sixty thousand hours into refining his craft. Thousands of additional hours have been spent actively listening to jazz music. Joking about his lack of social life while young, he said he could remember listening to a single side of John Coltrane’s Giant Steps for eight hours straight. Dave is a tenor saxophone specialist despite his starting on clarinet. He tried alto saxophone, and even bought a soprano saxophone once. “It was like I was cheating on my wife…” He states while seated. As he laughs, he bends forward and backward from the waste, which adds to the emphasis to his sentences. Dave is not a sound seeker, needing multiple instruments to express himself, and he is unconcerned with diversity for the sake of getting work. His voice is tenor. Some saxophonists spend a lifetime searching for the right equipment. They tailor their mouthpiece, ligature and reed combination to help them more clearly or effortlessly create the sound they wish to share. This is not the case for Dave. He has played the same Otto Link Mouthpiece for 25 years. He bought it as a replacement when another mouthpiece broke. The Otto Link was the only professional model mouthpiece carried in that particular music store. He thought it worked fine and he is still using it today. When probed, he agreed that certain equipment lends itself to particular settings and may make it easier to create a desired tone. However he prefers not to experiment with equipment and believes that no matter what you play “You can’t escape your sound.” The term sound should not be taken lightly, as it encompasses every aspect perceived aurally from tone or timbre to articulation, pitch, rhythm, harmonic tendencies, melodic delivery and unknown elements that have no names. Sound’s components are both scientific and artistic including both the concrete and abstract. Some physical elements include oral cavity, air speed, air volume, embouchure pressure, muscle strength, health, and practice regimen. Psychological aspects come into play such as mood, preferences, personal upbringing and background, level of study, influences and personality. Acoustics effect sound from room size, room shape and reflective material that change the resonance of the sound waves altering how the sound is both carried and perceived. What I find interesting is that Dave’s playing seems almost unaffected by outside influences. For instance, on a recent studio recording he seemed equally comfortable with a student drummer whose accompaniment was completely different than that of the faculty drummers I have heard him perform with in live settings. The drummer’s drastic difference in approach to volume, phrasing, touch and swing pattern did not have a noticeable effect on his ability to perform consistent melodic phrases. The personality: “I’m a fruit loop!” Dave says, peering through wire glasses below slightly graying brown hair styled like a second grade school picture: brushed forward in the front but slightly to the right side. His age is not made apparent, especially with his boyish smile. I understood the fruit-loop terminology, but my mind still went immediately to the rainbow colored, fruity delicious breakfast cereal. I couldn’t help it. I paused to smell the artificially flavored morsels that I was pouring the milk into the bowl in my mind. Thoughts continued to pour and as my habit of word association took me a step further - I saw it! That white cartoon rabbit coming back again and again despite the constant taunting, “Silly rabbit…Trix are for kids...” Dave is that rabbit! Tall and thin with dark eyebrows rising to emphasize and relay expression. The way his mouth pops open when he laughs in a quick loud “HA!” The great big ears (in his case, big for hearing). But most importantly, his spirit is unbroken despite opposition. Some musicians struggle artistically and are overcome with personal doubts. Dave just keeps at it, and he is excited about it. He tells me he “just wants to play”. The Dream: Dave was five years old when he decided to be a jazz musician. His dad, a professional musician performing under the stage name of Ronnie Gaines played trumpet and organ (sometimes at the same time) and sang in a smooth crooning style. Ronnie was quite popular and performed throughout the Pacific Northwest. During one tour, Dave was in the back seat of their station wagon with the guitar player’s son. Looking up at the stars in the Nevada night sky they said, “this is the life!” Though neither of them had learned to play an instrument yet, they wanted to become jazz musicians when they grew up. Ronnie Gaines’ career was cut short in 1967 at the age of 31. Dave was only 9 years old when his dad was killed in a private plane crash. Gaines had released one album and was working on his second. The pleasant memories of his Dad’s music proved to be a strong personal motivation for Dave even though he never had the benefit of learning music directly from his Father. I asked whether there was a point in his life when he wanted to do something else. Not many people end up pursuing their childhood dream. “Everything! All the time!” He spoke about a time when he wanted to be a microbiologist. He had some crazy way to tie in music theory with cells… Connections, overlapping, receiving new information, expanding on it and taking it from another perspective. This is how jazz music works, and his stories remind me why he is a great improviser. He branches off the topic with strange points, references, and memories without leaving the subject. For instance, when we talked about stage presence he branched off “one time I took my wife to see the Basie Band, she was wearing this red dress… it was like the best night of my life” and then weaved back to the subject. Similarly, while growing up he’d had plenty of other interests over the years, and he was sincerely excited about all of them, temporarily. The one prevailing interest was the saxophone. The Horn: (first love) He fell in love with the tenor saxophone at the Elks club. A family friend had a musical act called “Chubby and Tubby”. Their duet consisted of two multi-instrumentalists- a saxophonist/drummer and an accordion player/organist. When Dave’s parents took him to see the act, he could not take his eyes off that tenor saxophone. Alluring like a serpent flipping her tail up in sass, batting her eyes, clad in extravagantly engraved goldish yellow colored brass; the Selmer Mark VI that captured his gaze stood that night in the arms of another man. The Mark VI, which is arguably the best saxophone ever made, is sought after by collectors and performers alike. Today a working “Six” will sell for five thousand dollars. If it used to be good, could be good again (with some work), or is in its prime but was never more than an ordinary, it will go for three and a half thousand. A mint condition horn with the original lacquer that sings like a Siren will sell for seven to nine thousand dollars. The Mark VI horns are custom engraved, and they vary widely in quality from one horn to the next. Rumor has it that the more engraving one has, the better they play - not because the engraving makes them sound better, but because the manufacturers spent more time with the good ones. It’s like taking your wife out for the evening. The gift of glamorous adornment was something to be proud of, like an invitation for others to look. The saxophone at the Elks club was well engraved. Though Dave started on the clarinet, he was asked to sit in on saxophone at the Elks club. He had never played one before. “He put my fingers on the right keys and then counted off some song…I figured out a couple of blues licks during [the song] that I could play.” Many years later, when Dave had become a successful performer in the Portland Oregon area, he received a call from the Elks club saxophonist’s wife. Her husband had recently passed away, and she wanted to offer Dave the saxophone. “She said he always loved my spirit. He had an old Mark Vl tenor, the same one I played that night long ago. She thought it would be fitting if she gave it to me. I've been playing it ever since. The first sound I ever made on a saxophone was in a club in front of an audience and that tenor is the one I play to this day.” Today she stands around 60 percent original lacquer remaining. There is a large portion on the bell bend that is darker from regular handling. There are dark green spots along the key work and on the neck where the lacquer has been stripped off by ‘water’ or spit. This is character and beauty. Some people try to re-lacquer those old horns in an attempt to make them shiny. It covers the sound and ruins them. That raw brass makes the horn sing open and free. It means she has been played…used… loved. Joe: “…So you knew Joe Henderson personally?” I ask. “Yeah…” Dave sighed, “…He was great.” He paused and looked upward, reflecting. Joe Henderson was one of the greatest jazz tenor saxophonists. He was a small man who played the saxophone with every type of emotion from a swing line filled with tongue and cheek type laughter, to barky and poignant sounds of the 1960’s revolution to the most beautiful ballad that makes you feel the calm of the perfect evening sky. His music was powerful. In addition to more than thirty albums of his own he was one of the number one sidemen, recording monumental jazz recordings with artists such as Horace Silver, Freddie Hubbard, McCoy Tyner, Bobby Hutcherson, Lee Morgan, Kenny Dorham, Andrew Hill and so many more. His versatility made him equally valuable in Hard-Bop, Avante Garde, Latin and R&B settings. Personally, every time I reflect on the depth of Joe’s music I start to choke up. I discovered his music during a turning point in my life. He provided beauty in a time of chaos. The day I learned he died (summer of 2001), was the day I decided I no longer wanted to be a band teacher. His death was the last straw in a deciding point of pursuance vs. complacency. Sadly I discovered his music only a few years before his death. Dave had the privilege of knowing Joe Henderson. “Did you ever get a chance to hear him live?” Dave asks. I shook my head no. I wished I seen him play, met him, shook his hand and thanked him for his contribution to the world of music. “One time he loaned me twenty dollars!” he blurted excitedly. “Do you want to hear the story?” Dave was about 21 years old around the year 1978 at the time of the story. This would have been a time in Joe’s career when he was playing pretty ‘out’ (referring to less conventional harmonic devices). It would have been something to see. He had recorded his last session for Milestone in 1976. It was Encounter’s with Flora Purim, a Brazilian singer who pushed the envelope of sound exploration using pitch inflection and electronic devises. Following this recording was the only time in Joe’s career where he was not signed with a major jazz label. He did not return to Blue Note until 1985 followed by Verve in the 1990’s in more traditional formats. Dave rode with some friends to a club in Seattle. As the evening progressed, he lost track of them. They were not inside or directly outside the club so he walked out to the lot where the car was parked. It was locked. He did not know what to do, and this was before cell phones. He started to panic. Joe could tell something was wrong and asked, “Dave are you cool?” “No!” he said, “I can’t find my friends and the car’s locked. I don’t know how I’m going to get home.” Joe reached into his pocket and handed him twenty dollars for a cab. Later, Dave found his friends and no longer needed the cab fair. He ran back to Joe’s hotel room and gave him the twenty dollars back, thanking him but explaining to him that he didn’t need it anymore. A simple man, Joe no doubt appreciated this gesture of return. In 1992 when Joe Henderson was offered the Downbeat Readers Poll Artist of the Year, he stated, “I think playing the saxophone is what I’m supposed to be doing on this planet. It’s the best way I know that I can make the largest number of people happy and get for myself the largest amount of happiness.” It is this sort of humility combined with focus on a single craft that keeps players like Joe Henderson and Dave Hagelganz progressing personally and musically so as to have something to offer an audience year after year. Saxophone studio class: There are five of Dave’s saxophone students in the classroom; three advanced jazz students and two less-developed classical saxophonists. The three jazz players group up on one side of the room. Dave sits on a tall stool in the middle and the classical students crouch together on the far side of the room, with several chair spaces separating them from the others. It’s Friday afternoon so everyone is excited. I don’t know why I feel like I am in second grade. I am suddenly flashed back to the days when half the class is secretly dressed up in costume with superman briefs under their sweatpants, or a bandana under their cap. I am the girl with dog-ear ponytails holding back the giggles because I know I have turtle stickers in my Barbie pink backpack and I can’t wait to show the others on the bus ride home. This is the environment, the youthful energy that accompanies a group of students waiting to share their enthusiasm for the saxophone. It’s hard to hold back the excitement and the brain reaction is hardly different than the one that reminds me of play dough and pterodactyls. I think it is because in “Saxophone Land” we can’t change who we are or where we came from. We can’t change what our parents or former teachers told us, or how long we believed them. But we are all here now, whoever we are, whoever we want to be, learning to be comfortable with that. Learning how much of that to let out, show, share and learning by what other people do, what is acceptable. It’s not about changing how we feel, but learning how to express it. In that way saxophone class is exactly like grade school. Two of the three jazz boys in the class are wearing sweaters or sweatshirts with stripes on the sleeve or across the chest, with jeans and some type of street shoes. It is like some sort of unspoken dress code. One of the kids is wearing a suit because he has a performance but any other Friday he’d be in skate shoes and stripes. Before class starts they sway back and forth, fidgeting with their fingers on their horns. Their minds are filled with stimulating thoughts that they seek to explore, explain or share through the saxophone. The two kids in the corner are hunched over with wide eyes waiting to see what will happen. They want to be there, but they don’t feel like they belong. They have a lot of personal growth to do, and though they may not know it yet, the saxophone is what will make that possible. Dave hands out an Aebersold lead sheet of Harry Warren’s “There Will Never Be Another You” and asks the class to analyze the chord structure. He wants them to learn to identify important cadence points and understand the big picture of the song’s harmonic structure in order to improvise effectively. Looking at the younger students who need motivation he says: “Look.” He walks closer to them. “Even if you play something awful...Something really…really horrible...” Looking at one kid in particular he juts his neck forward, his eyebrows up high for emphasis because he really wants the kid to understand what he is saying. “Even if you play something Butt Ugly!” Everyone laughs. “At least it gives you something to change.” He talks to his students about economy, that is, using notes effectively. “The difference between a wrong note and a right note happens very quickly” he states. He wants to teach his students to make the right decisions in the moment, but mostly to be improvising - not regurgitating. The Future: I asked Dave what was to come in the future. Did he have a five-year plan? He looked at me – eyebrows raised in excitement and said, “I’m done!” He was referring to his time in the official work force, not his musical endeavors. He looks forward to a day when he can do some gardening and spend more time with his wife. He loves his new job and will continue developing on the saxophone, but he is at peace being able to see some light at the end of the tunnel to not have to work. When I asked him what he wanted to have shared with the world – what is his legacy? Would it be his teaching, his playing? He simply stated “My enthusiasm for the saxophone and to continue to progress as a musician.” It is rare to see someone experienced who is still excited about advancement. Many experienced musicians are worn out. Instead he says, “I just want to play!” As I walked away from the interview toward a darkening sky, watching the white winter moon start to peek onto a cooling eve I couldn’t help but think I was looking at that same five year old kid from the station wagon over 45 years later. The same excitement twinkling from his eyes still wanting to learn – just wanting to play. No overwhelming personal issues road blocking the way – no dark murky touring stories that wrinkle and darken the faces of so many experiences musicians. He doesn’t feel like he’s arrived or feel regret for not having done this or that. He’s just happy to be doing, and keep doing what he loves.