The quote was about 40 years ago in Rolling Stone Magazine, about some people ". . .thinking Chris Wood and Bobby Keys are the greatest sax players in the world." One of the sax players, either Dick Morrisey or Dave Quincy from a British jazz-rock band named "If", said this and probably in disgruntled fashion. I was on his/their side by then and going further yet, but for we in our respective instrument families, icons will be icons.

Headed for the home where I have gone for Thanksgiving dinner since the late 90's I had a thought for someone who said she'd take Bobby Keys over Tim Ries, while I, whatever my practice deficiency, am very respectfully the opposite.

From over a dozen people by dinner time it was down to a mighty but quieter four this year, moves and even deaths intervening, and one of the missing was C., who made the sax preference quote. She was generally pop and I am whatever you've seen on this site but our annual discussions were fun: lots of crossing over and simple joy shared about music and especially good live shows.

She is a huge Rolling Stones fan, and I last saw them live about the time of the "If" article. Bobby Keys was joined in the touring horn section in recent years by this Tim Ries. I have seen him with Maynard Ferguson and have his two CD's under the aegis of "The Rolling Stones Project". The latter was the theme of a show he did at CSUN a couple of years ago which counts as a huge favorite in my history. For C. "Brown Sugar" was a tune on which Keys was iconic and I agree.

On one of the CD's, which features many musicians and fascinating concepts for the Rolling Stones tunes he interprets, he does Brown Sugar on soprano sax, with a Portuguese lady singer and Cuban acoustic guitarists whose beautiful plucked lines shine like the points on the seasonal decorations bubbling up during this writing. Tribute through contrast, a concept one picks up after a lot of music under the bridge---and chorus.

Monday, driving home from my saxophone/music lesson, I had an NPR affiliate program on and to introduce the story which would finish out the hour there was a snappy rhythm and blues instrumental. More than ever I appreciated the sax-centric horn line and jabbing guitars, as I have over the years wondering about so many unidentified instrumental breaks which have come and gone.

Wonder not for whom the credits roll, it was from a term which bounced around during the 70's like a cross between the class clown and class sophist: a solo album, in this case from Mr. Keys. He had just died.

One solo from Bobby, which did not involve his frequent growling and squalling, was on a Graham Nash album during a song which had lyrics about "[Changing} the rule." Mr. Keys was subject to a rule we can't seem to change, but until then we blow on.