The Joy of Sax: Baker Street, Gerry Rafferty

originally published: 11/11/13

If ever there was a third pillar to this site, it would be this song. Simultaneously glorious and dirty, it is the soundtrack to an 80’s New York City that exists only in my mind as a dirtier, more violent and yet somehow purer doppelgänger of the city that I know today.

I owe its rediscovery to my good friend Steve Carlton, whom I was showing around NYC three months after the now mythical road trip that Virgin-birthed the term Unexpected Sax upon the world. We were walking along the High Line when The Solo from Midnight City came up and my enthusing to him about it knocked loose this nugget of sonic gold from his memory that subsequently became the soundtrack to our wanderings and was much played in our cell at the West Side Y.

It comes roaring out of the gates less than thirty seconds into the gentle, nigh-folk beginnings of the song and reappears three more times; after both verses and then after Rafferty’s guitar solo at the end. This last appearance is key, however, as the guitar reasserts its traditional, and not unearned, place as prime instrument in the rock pantheon after the three previous Sax manifestations in the song. If The Saxophone is to win out - to be remembered - it has to finish first in the hearts and minds of the listeners, leaving them playing The Air Saxophone instead of air guitar. As any athlete, competitive marathon runner, or fabled bunny will tell you, it is not enough to open with a lead and maintain it through the middle of race, you have to finish just as strong. To always be closing. And close it does, with all the steamy, shining beauty of a rainy New York City night from any era.