In Memory of Michael Brecker: A Personal Eulogy

As I grow older, for obvious reasons I am developing an irksome habit of scanning the obituary page more frequently. Sometime in early February, I was shocked and saddened to read, “Michael Brecker, dead at 57.” It couldn’t be—not at such a young age, and with so much to live for and so much potential. I thought the era of major jazz artists dying young had ended with Bill Evans at 51. And, It must be said, he died not from the proverbial drug overdose, but of an unfortunate illness he fought bravely to survive.

I only met him once at a clinic at the University of Virginia around 1990, but I found him to be a soft-spoken gentleman, in contrast to the bright facile flowing style of his musical expressionism. His discography bears witness not only to a prolific body of work, but a generosity supporting lesser-known artists, in addition to complimenting the music of the industry's biggest and most demanding stars. My personal favorites of Brecker’s career were: a short solo on Don Fagen’s “Nightfly,” and his dazzling improvisations on Pat Matheny’s “80-81.”

As a saxophonist myself, many times I marvelled at Brecker’s facility on the horn, an instrument I personally felt was one of the hardest to master. Mouthpieces, reeds, pads, keys and more conspire to slow the mind down. Any one inconsistency can create a nightmare for the performer. Brecker was a master, both cerebrally, in the mental process he brought to the music, but also in his mastery of the physical and material demands of an unwieldy beast first popularized in the last century by Coleman Hawkins.

I considered him to the tenor saxophone what David Sanborn is to alto, a relationship I sometimes compared to Stan Getz and Paul Desmond. Both played with a hard-edged bright sound rooted in rhythm and blues. Brecker, however, was unlike any saxophone player I’d ever heard. Unlike most, he actually invented a melodic style all his own advancing the ideas of John Coltrane to a next level. His music represented a distinct chapter in the lineage of sax-based improvisation, beginning with Coleman Hawkins and moving through Lester Young, Charlie Parker and John Coltrane. There were many other great stylists who played outstanding music, but these five seem to have been the key innovators. The world will now have to search for the next Michael Brecker.

Rest in peace—your life’s work was hardly incomplete, and made a difference to so many of us.