The first time I met Bob was on a Saturday morning, at his house in Chipping Campden, in the Cotswolds, England.
My father was the dentist for the area, and Bob had gone to have some emergency work done. I was 14 at the time, and I hadn’t been playing sax for long, but when Dad discovered more about Bob (probably, as dentists are wont to do, through a series of complicated questions asked while the patient’s mouth is occupied by a bite tray), he mentioned that I was learning. Bob immediately asked if I’d like to go and visit him for a lesson. At that time I was just learning about Jazz, and as the internet hadn’t been invented yet my knowledge was limited to what records I could find at the local record store. As a result, I admit that I knew nothing about Bob beforehand.
Arriving at his home, I was first welcomed by Bob’s incomparable, larger-than-life wife, Pug, who ushered me straight upstairs to the studio. I was greeted by sheet music, reeds, mouthpieces, and an array of saxes and clarinets. At first, I thought it was for show, but I soon learned that Bob was a relentless practicer, always searching for the ideal reed; always trying to perfect his playing or figure out where he wanted a harmonic passage in a new composition to go.
I’ll cut a long story short. That first lesson was hell. I’d never heard of the term ‘roasted’ before, but I was experiencing it first hand. From then on, I would go to Bob’s whenever he was in town, and try to learn whatever I could from him. And from Pug, who taught me all about touring, stagecraft … and how to rustle up an incredible tortilla using whatever was in the fridge!
I will post more stories from my time with the Wilbers, but for now, I’d just like to say that I am forever indebted to Bob and Pug for the opportunities they gave me early in my career, and the continuing support that they are always so quick to give.