Martin Committee III alto saxophone
Guide price: £600 upwards
Date of manufacture: 1957 (serial range: 202xxx)
Date reviewed: June 2017
As good as it looks
Just take a moment to look at this horn.
Isn't it beautiful?
Oh, there are other great-looking horns out there - but they often
only look good because someone's gone to a great deal of effort
to bling 'em up. Whack some fancy pearls on and a bucket of gold
plate, and practically anything will look good - but this horn looks
great even when it's just got out of bed, nursing a hangover of
It has what I call a natural beauty - it doesn't need to shine,
it doesn't need to glint or gleam, it simply oozes grace, style
and élan from every pore. You may disagree - and normally
I'd say that's fine, each to their own and all that kind of thing
- but this time you'd be wrong.
While I'll brook no arguments about the horn's
looks, its name presents more of a challenge. Officially it's a
'The Martin' alto. However, the 'The Martin' name appeared on various
earlier models - some of which were also marked 'Committee'...and
some of which that were Committees that weren't marked as such.
With me so far? And then some of them had a little shield (RMC)
and some didn't...and some were just stamped 'Martin'...and some...oh
well, you get the idea.
Early versions of this model were marked 'Committee', and as it
was the third model to feature the name it became colloquially known
as The Martin Committee III - at which point everyone breathed a
sigh of relief. It also had quite a long build run - from 1945 to
the early 1970s. Throughout this period the company went through
a number of structural changes, but it seems the design of the horn
remained the same. Not that this stops the speculation that models
from certain years are better than others.
I think it's fair to say that of the 'big four'
of vintage US horn makers, Martin tends to tag along behind Conn,
Buescher and King. Fans of these three marques will probably say
"Quite rightly too!", but I get the impression that Martin
owners aren't really that bothered. In some ways they are to saxes
what Jaguar are (or at least were) to cars - because no matter how
much other drivers wax lyrical about their cars, you can always
trump them by saying "I've got a Jaaaaaaag"...and it really
doesn't matter much which model it is.
And so it is with Martins. There's that sense that you've tried
the rest and found them somehow lacking in charm and charisma, that
your choice is slightly left-field, that it's considered and introspective.
When a Conn, King or Buescher owner discovers that a famous jazzer
plays one, they're quick to shout "Hey look! So-and-so plays
a Conn/King/Buescher!" - but when it happens to a Martin owner
they're more inclined to just say "That's nice".
Obviously they're not all like that, but it's at least a standard
to which all Martin owners should aspire. The wearing of a blazer
and cravat is, for now, optional.
It's this laid-back approach which perhaps led
to these things being practically give-away horns back in the '80s
(at least in the UK). Hardly anyone seemed to have heard of them,
few people seemed to want to buy them...and forty or so years later
I'm seriously regretting that I only ever bought the one (a Handcraft
baritone) when the prices were right. Times have changed, though,
and Martin's star has been in the ascendant for some time now -
a prospect which will cause every owner to say "That's nice".
But enough of this blather. There are whole sites
devoted to the ins and outs of Martin horns - and if you're interested
in all that sort of thing I think you'll find plenty to read. Here
at SHWoodwind, however, we're more interested in the 'meat and potatoes'
- and as beauty is often only skin deep, it's time to pop this horn
on the bench and see just how deep it runs.
The construction is single pillar - and the bases
vary from being adequately-sized to a bit on the small side. They're
also a little thin which makes them a bit, shall we say, mobile.
You're unlikely to notice this as a player, but a repairer carrying
out work on the body will have to take care not to knock the pillars
out of line. It may also be the reason that these horns have something
of a reputation for pillars dropping off. This was always assumed
to be down to the quality of the solder, but it could just be that
the pillars are able to flex very slightly during playing and are
simply working themselves loose.
There are a few plates too (multiple pillars on a single base) -
for the palm keys, the G# lever, the side keys and the top F link.
The toneholes are perhaps the most noteworthy feature of the body
- they're thick and chunky and they're soft-soldered on, as opposed
to the more common method of drawing them out of the body tube.
There are pros and cons (of course). On the plus side it can be
argued that soldering the tonehole on doesn't distort the bore in
the way that drawn toneholes do - and that this has an effect on
the tone. This is true - but how much of an effect and whether it's
demonstrably better than the effect that drawn toneholes have is
a source of much and constant debate.
Another plus is that in the event of a severe bash, the toneholes
can be removed while the body is put to rights and then refitted
afterwards. This maintains the integrity of the toneholes - and
in the event that one gets completely mangled, it can simply be
the minus side, though, there's the ever-present spectre of selective
galvanic corrosion. Simply put, the solder gets eaten away down
the years by an electrochemical action which causes leaks to appear
in the joints. Diagnosis is often tricky, and to properly repair
the joints the affected toneholes must be completely removed, cleaned
and refitted. It ain't cheap. This particular horn did quite well
- I found only one tonehole with a failed joint, and I'm inclined
to think it was as a result of a sharp knock rather than corrosion
(there was some slight distortion in the body beneath the tonehole).
I can understand if this potential problem puts some people off
buying a Martin, but provided you ensure the toneholes have been
checked or you make allowances in your budget it really shouldn't
be that big of a deal.
You can still pick these horns up quite cheaply, but bear in mind
that at the lower end of the price spectrum you may well have to
fork out for repairs - which could easily double the price.
It should also be noted that the toneholes are
'inline' - which is to say that they run in a straight line down
the main body tube. Modern horns tend to have 'offset' toneholes,
where the lower stack is shifted slightly round to the right - which
presents a more natural playing position. It's not something that
particularly bothers me, but some players may find that an inline
setup makes their hands ache after a while.
It's odd to see this arrangement on a horn built later than the
early '60s, but then that's perhaps the drawback of maintaining
a single design over such a long period. Contrast this with Selmer,
who went through three designs over the same period (BA, SBA, MKVI).
As with many horns from this era, the bell key
toneholes are on the left hand side of the bell.
From an acoustical perspective this makes no difference but it does
mean that there's more 'gubbins' against your hip/leg if you prefer
to play with the horn slung to your right. If you're a 'straight
out front' player it won't really affect you at all.
The bell key guard is a tour-de-force in wirework, and adds to the
vaguely art deco look of the horn - and to be brutally honest that's
about as far it goes in terms of the advantages of this design.
On the drawback side the guard stays are woefully small, the provision
for mounting buffer felts is rather mean (and, of course, there's
no adjustability), the non-removeable low C/Eb guards are a right
pain when you're setting the pads...and as good as these guards
look when they're all neat and tidy, they tend to look rather shabby
once they've been knocked about a bit (rather like the single-piece
guard on Yamaha's 61/62 series horns).
bell brace - like the bell key guards - looks wonderful, but it
still just mounts on the body via a single foot placed between the
G# and Auxiliary F toneholes (see below). Drop the horn on its bell
and this foot will be pushed straight into the body, which'll take
out those two toneholes...and leave a bend in the body tube for
It'll cost a fair few pennies to put it right, and it won't be helped
by the fact that the bottom bow joint is soldered on.
There's not a lot you can do about this, other than to bear this
vulnerability in mind and avoid dropping the horn. You know it makes
The crook has a couple of interesting features,
the most obvious of which is that teardrop plate with a dirty great
screw through it.
This is the crook lock - and it really is a lock rather than a clamp,
because this is a non-clamping crook socket.
In engineering terms there's nothing wrong with this arrangement.
The ideal for a crook joint is that it should be a sliding fit,
and that the operation of the clamp is merely to lock the crook
into its playing position. The joint seal should come solely from
the fit of the crook tenon sleeve into the socket (or receiver).
However, in the real world it's more often the case that the joint
relies on some additional closing force via the clamp screw.
There's no such option on the Martin, because the lock screw is
simply that - a lock screw. It has no clamping capability. In fact
it can make things worse, as tightening it up will pull on one side
of the joint; if there's a small amount of play that's evenly distributed
around the joint, tightening the screw will throw it all to the
opposite side...which means you might end up with a bigger leak
than had you not tightened the screw up.
The answer is to ensure that the joint is a nice
sliding fit - but the design and placement of the locking screw
doesn't make it at all easy for the repairer to do the job. It's
not so bad if you're able to expand the tenon sleeve and get it
right first time, but if you go oversize and need to compress the
sleeve you're a bit stuffed as you won't be able to get any tooling
around the exterior unless you're prepared to dismantle the lock
screw feature (which is silver-soldered in place). And you're rather
limited as to what tools you can use, because an expanding mandrel
will likely struggle to shift the diameter of the relatively thick-walled
tenon sleeve on the Martin. This is an important consideration for
buyers. Doing the job properly takes a lot of time and is thus quite
expensive - and your second question after "Have you properly
checked the toneholes for leaks?" should be "Is the crook
a good, snug fit?". There's a link at the end of the review
which goes to the Benchlife Blog article where I undertake and explain
this job in more detail.
And as for that curious bar running along the centre of the crook
key, we'll discuss that shortly - but in the meantime it's yet another
example of the way in which functional parts have been made to look
attractive on this horn.
think that pretty much covers all the body features save for what
are arguably the two standout features of this horn. The first is
the adjustable thumb hook.
I'm in no doubt that this is a 'Marmite' feature in that you either
love it or you hate it...and there's no inbetween.
Me, I love it - it's so utterly simple. To adjust it you simply
undo that screw on the clamp plate. No screwdrivers needed - just
give it a turn with your fingers. Once it's loose the hook can be
moved up and down at will, and there's also a degree of side-to-side
movement too. I find the best way to set it up is to loosen the
screw, place your hands in the playing position, give 'em a bit
of a wiggle and then take your left hand off the horn and tighten
up the thumb hook lock screw. This'll put the hook in more or less
the optimum position, and thereafter you can tweak it to your heart's
But the killer feature is that it's so quick and easy to adjust.
If you have it set for playing while standing and find that you've
been booked for a sit-down gig, it takes less time to adjust the
hook for a more suitable position than it does to read this sentence.
second standout feature is the octave key thumb rest.
It's been designed in conjunction with the octave key touchpiece
so that the two form an almost seamless blend into one another.
Now, you could say that this is technically true of most modern
octave mechs in that they have a shaped touchpiece that typically
curves around a circular thumb rest. And you'd be right - but you'd
also be wrong. They've simply gone for the cheapest and most practical
design for the thumb rest and spent all the money on the touchpiece
- but on the Martin they blew big bucks on both parts. And it shows.
It just looks so elegant.
They could easily have made the thumb rest round and hacked a bit
off the bottom of the touchpiece - but no, someone sat down and
decided to sketch out a design that made much more of a statement.
I like that - and what I like even more is that it works. And it
works really well.
And as we're staring at a dirty great photo of
the octave key mech, I guess now's a good time to discuss the action
in detail - and what better place to start than with the mech itself.
There are three things you need to know about it: It's simple, it's
slick...and it's built like the proverbial brick sh*thouse. It also
has fewer moving parts than a typical modern swivel mech, and its
design makes it far more tolerant of wear as well as being easier
to bring back up to spec as and when the need arises.
From a mechanical perspective, having only one captive end on the
pin or lifter arm (the bar with the red felt on the end) means there
are fewer areas for free play to accumulate within the mech. A modern
swivel bar is captive at both ends, and as wear builds here (as
well as in the central swivel) you end up with progressively more
free play at the touchpiece. In simple terms, you have to press
the octave key down further and further before anything actually
While we're poking about around the top end of
the horn, let's go back to that bar running up the middle of the
crook octave key. It's actually the spring cradle. On a normal crook
the spring would be mounted to the key just forwards of the pivot
and its tip would rest in a cradle fitted to the crook tube just
to the rear of the pivot.
how it looks on the Martin. The spring is mounted upside-down to
the key just behind the octave key pad, and the tip rests on that
central bar - so rather than push the key cup down, this design
pulls it down. It works just fine, but there's a bit of a problem.
There's nothing to stop the key from being lifted past the point
where the spring would deform (some modern soprano crooks are susceptible
to this problem) and the key would be left flapping about in
And that's where that extra piece along the bottom of the spring
comes in. This is just a piece of a very thick flat spring that's
been cut short, and its function is to support the thinner spring
if the key rises too far (typically as a result of clumsy crook
There are two ways this buffer spring is fitted. In some cases it's
fitted above the spring, and is extended so that its tip will contact
the bar when the key is raised too high. This is more often seen
on the tenors. On the alto there's rather less room, and you might
find that such a buffer spring prevents the key cup from opening
far enough in normal use. It looks like the spring will bend at
that gap between the buffer and the bar...and it will, but you'd
have to give the key one hell of a tug (yeah, I tried).
And that bar also has another function. A very
common problem is that of octave keys being crushed by careless
handling of the crook. It's easy to do, especially when fitting
or removing the crook. You'd have to go some to bend this octave
key - it's possibly the sturdiest you'll ever see - but the addition
of the central bar makes it all but impossible to crush the key
with a bare hand. I'd be surprised if this was a designed-in feature,
but it's certainly a welcome side-benefit.
G# key features a long lever key - like the one found on the Conn
6M/10M, among others. I've always liked how this kind of mech feels
in action, and the fact that it's far less picky when it comes to
balancing the spring tension between the touchpiece lever and the
cup key. Granted, it doesn't look quite so elegant as a modern mech
- but this one sports a feature that's bang up to date; an anti-stick
You've got your spring for opening the G# cup
key and you've got your spring for lifting the touchpiece lever.
Normally this would be a flat spring fitted beneath the arm, but
in this instance it's a long needle spring that's biased upwards
(you can just see it resting beneath the arms that bridge the gap
between the cup key and the lever). And then you've got that additional
flat spring on the top of the touchpiece lever. Its tip sits over
the cup key foot and in normal use it does nothing at all - but
should the G# pad stick down when the G# is pressed, the touchpiece
lever would drop away and leave the tip of the flat spring resting
on the cup key's foot. It won't like that, and will immediately
exert a downward force...and hey presto! - the G# cup opens. It's
as simple as it gets, and it works a treat. It does have a drawback
though, which is that it also comes into play when you're using
the articulation feature via the bell keys. This will not only add
weight to the bell keys but will also increase the upward force
acting on the G# key cup, which the arm from the Auxiliary F is
supposed to keep in check. Given that it struggles to do this at
the best of times, it's pretty much what you'd call 'asking for
trouble'. Pros and cons, as usual - but if the feature gives you
any gyp its a simple matter to disable it. You can either remove
the flat spring or unhook it from the G# cup foot and swing it to
one side...or you can just bend it upwards.
However, note the 'shelf' at the base of the G# touchpiece, and
that it only extends halfway along the length. This would normally
connect the touchpiece to the other keys in the bell table - but
in this instance only the low C# is linked to the G#. This means
there's no G# articulation on the low B and Bb, which means the
G# anti-stick mechanism won't affect them.
Note too the base of the aforementioned bell key
stay, positioned just beneath the G# key cup barrel - and the sling
ring, which is just a tad larger at 15.2/8.5mm than the standard
15/8 which seems to be norm these days (and which I feel is a bit
and strictly for the geeks, this type of G# mech is a 'class 2 lever'
- as opposed to the class 1 type that's fitted to modern horns.
Lever classes are based on the positions of the fulcrum or pivot,
the load (the thing you want to shift) and the effort (the bit you
lift and/or press). An everyday example of a class 1 lever would
be a pair of pliers - and a wheelbarrow would be a class 2.
It's admittedly a fairly useless bit of trivia - but that's the
beauty of these reviews; you get to look at some pretty pictures,
you learn a few things and we all have a bit of a laugh. What's
not to like?
Here's the bell key table assembled. It looks
rather quaint when compared to a modern all-singin'-and-dancin'
tilting table, but it's surprisingly nimble in use (perhaps less
so on a tenor, due to the low C# being a single-piece key). It's
generally quite a reliable setup, but it does have a couple of weaknesses.
The first is that if there's any wear in the G# touchpiece lever
pivot, the business end of the key will wobble from side to side.
It'll then knock against the key guide. The fix is to tighten the
pivot (swedge the key barrel). Or you could just stick a thin buffer
down the side of the guide. This won't stop the key from wobbling,
but it'll at least stop it from clanking.
other weakness is that there's very little clearance where the low
C# touchpiece arm goes over the G# lever - just past the head of
the flat spring's retaining screw. By the time the horn's had a
few knocks and/or things have shifted around a little down the years,
you might find this clearance has disappeared, which results in
the two key arms colliding. This'll give you a distinct metallic
'clink' every time the G# rises after being pressed down, and as
the C# is pressed.
The proper fix for this is to realign the pillars - but, frankly,
it's a lot less hassle (and expense) to simply file a bit off the
G# lever. You won't need much, maybe half a millimetre tops.
The low B/Bb pivots are a bit of a puzzle. The
Bb key barrel sits over the B - but while the B key is mounted on
a pair of point screws, the Bb is mounted on a long rod. I can't
quite see why they've done this. It can't be down to some mysterious
formula that determines at what length a key barrel switches from
a rod to a point pivot, because the Bis Bb is shorter...and that's
mounted on points. It also can't be down to limited access; although
the lower Bb pillar is obstructed by the low B cup arm, you could
still remove the Bb key by undoing the upper pillar screw. And if
push came to shove and you really needed access to the lower pillar
screw, you could just remove the B key first.
At a guess I'd say that they felt the Bb barrel was rather exposed
and that a rod screw running through it would give it a bit of extra
stiffness. That may well be true, but it's a lot easier to deal
with a bent solid barrel than one with a rod screw running through
it. There's bound to be a reason for it as there clearly doesn't
seem to be much else on the horn that hasn't been thought about.
geek point can be found on the low C key.
The red section is the barrel of the low C key. On most horns this
is all you get; a touchpiece at one end of the key, a key cup at
the other and a hollow tube that connects them both together. This
key always been prone to a spot of flexing, which is why many modern
horns make use of double key cup arms in order to add a bit more
Martin were way ahead of the game, and have incorporated a support
bar (in green) that runs parallel to the key barrel. I doubt it's
as effective as a double key cup arm, which does a better job of
preventing the cup from twisting, but it's certainly a step up from
a standard key.
However, there's a bit of a nasty gotcha built
in to this design.
When a rod screw mounted key wears the standard repair technique
is to compress the key barrel (known as swedging) around the rod
screw. This reduces the internal diameter of the barrel and takes
up all the free play. It also stretches the barrel lengthways, which
takes up any end-to-end play...and leaves the action as good as
But here's the problem. If you swedge the key barrel it'll get longer...but
the (green) support bar won't. Something will have to give, and
as the barrel is less stiff it'll take on a gentle curve. In short
you'll end up with a slightly bent key barrel. The way to avoid
this embarrassing state of affairs is not to swedge the portion
of the barrel directly opposite the support bar - but that only
leaves the very ends of the barrel on which to work.
I see a lot of this on horns that come into the workshop, and I
call it 'pinching the play'. When a key barrel wears, it wears along
its entire length - and in order to bring the key back to spec you
have to address the wear along the entire length of the key. You
can, however, simply address the wear only at the ends of the barrel.
This will take up the internal wobble of the rod screw and will
lengthen the key enough (hopefully) to deal with the end-to-end
play. But you now have a key with a massively reduced bearing area,
which means that any subsequent wear will be entirely focussed on
the relatively small area that's been treated. And how long d'you
think that will last? Not long.
There's a way around this pesky problem - but hey, a guy's gotta
have some secrets...
side keys feature a variation on the modern fork and pin connectors
in that they've reversed (the pin is on the lever arm) and there's
a hole in place of the fork. It's not a bad design, but it needs
some very careful setting up because there's quite a lot of friction
built in to the mechanism.
When you press the key down, the lever arm with the pin on it drops
down...and in so doing it pulls the end of the cup key down, which
opens the pad.
But because the lever arm is moving through an arc, it also moves
forward in relation to the cup key - which causes it to rub in the
hole. This throws up a few necessary compromises. You could make
the pin a snug fit in the hole, which would ensure the action felt
tight and immediate - but it would tend to bind at either and of
the key's stroke. This would mean the cup key would fail to close
properly or stick fully open. Not good.
So you make the pin more of a loose fit - and this would ensure
the cup key was able to move freely...but the action at the touchpiece
end would feel knocky and imprecise. It'd also likely be quite noisy.
One thing's for sure - it takes some careful fiddling about with
materials and sizes to get the best out of this mech, and even then
it's not the best I've come across.
Incidentally, if you remove the Bb cup key and take a peek underneath
the key arm you may well find a serial number stamped on it. Hopefully
it'll match the one stamped below the thumb hook.
And that just about wraps it up for the action,
save for mentioning that the point screws are proper points (as
you'd expect), there's a full set of proper mother-of-pearl key
touches - and unless the horn's been meddled with, the springs will
be blued steel. And there are no adjusters on the horn - not a single
one - so any regulation will have to be done the old-fashioned way.
The original case is likely to be a bog-standard vintage box job
and you'd be well-advised to replace it as soon as possible. However,
the placement of the bell keys means your choices will be limited.
This horn turned up in a Hiscox case, which seemed to fit very well
- and as it's a good case I suspect it's likely to be your best
Under the fingers the action feels...well, I guess
the most accurate description would be 'Steampunk'. It's patently
a vintage mechanism, what with the inline toneholes, the non-tilting
bell keys etc. - but at the same time it has a surprisingly modern
feel. It kinda catches you by surprise. You pick the horn up, knowing
it's a vintage model, and it's almost as if your fingers think "Ey
up lads, 'ere we go - get ready for a reet good stretching"...and
then there's a realisation that while it's different from a modern
action, it isn't that different. At least not in any significant
For sure, it's an alto - so ergonomics aren't such an issue as they'd
be on a larger horn.
There's a nice balance to the action; the combination of the weight
of the keys, the length of the springs and the width of the tonehole
rims all adds up to make it a curiously comfortable horn...by which
I mean that if you just sit there and run your fingers up and down
the action, it gets kind of addictive. Or maybe it's just me.
I particularly liked the low B/Bb action, mostly
because the keys aren't connected to the G# (as they are on just
about every other horn). They're supremely light and responsive
- but on the flipside the low C# can get very heavy very quickly
if you're not very careful when balancing the G# mech. Again, this
is less of a problem on the alto than it'd be on the tenor.
And I just loved the octave key mech. It's a simple design which
does the job a treat, and the combination thumbrest/touchpiece must
surely rank as one of the best designs out there.
Likewise, the simple adjustable thumb hook is both brilliantly comfortable
and blindingly easy to adjust on the fly.
About the only grumble I could come up with (and
I'm digging deep here) is that the side key action is a tad less
slick than a modern fork and pin design - and this is both down
to the pin being on the lever arm (rather than the cup key) and
the geometry of the mechanism. It's not much though, but it's still
there. I suspect, too, that some players will trip up over the palm
key layout - but hey, that's true of just about any horn. Doesn't
matter where you put these keys, there'll always be someone out
there who can't get on with them. If that's you then I can do no
better than refer you to my article on making
custom key risers.
The action is very tolerant of a range of spring tensions. Granted,
you need to be careful when setting up the bell keys and the side
Bb/C, but everything else will work just fine when set from very
light to very heavy. Some horns get a bit 'flappy' when the action's
set too light, but this didn't seem to trouble the Martin.
It's surprisingly light around your neck. Horn
players often equate weight to quality, and vintage horns in particular
are reckoned to be 'built with more metal' than modern horns - but
the Martin tips the scales at just 2.38kg. I'll admit it surprised
me too - I had to weigh it three times just to be sure. It looks
like a heavy horn - it ought to be a heavy horn with those hulking
great toneholes - and yet it's just 80 grammes (about 3 ounces)
heavier than the Selmer MkVI and noticeably lighter than many modern
So the next time you see some gobshite mouthing off on a forum about
how vintage horns "had more metal than the modern rubbish",
you can quite legitimately call them a moron. If, however, you own
a Martin I think a "That's nice" will do nicely. Fans
of Brendan O'Carroll will appreciate that sentiment, even if no-one
So...how does it play?
It plays lovely.
I got caught out initially by the distance of the octave key pip
from the tip of the crook. It's considerably further back than it
is on a modern alto, and I suppose I've got into the habit of my
mouthpiece being set at a certain distance from the pip. This made
the horn play almost a semitone sharp, which wasn't a good start.
However, once I'd got past that 'Well, duh!' moment, the Martin
settled into its stride. And oh man, what a stride.
things first - it's a very stable horn. Not that vintage horns are
known for their instability - quite the reverse - but there's the
stability that comes from just not being very exciting, and the
stability that comes from being well-designed. The Martin has the
It really is a 'both feet on the floor' kinda horn.
Tonewise it has plenty of warmth and richness but it's not automatically
dialled in - which is to say you can take it or leave it. If you
lay back, the horn lays back with you - but if you push it, it pushes
right back atcha. It'll make you work for it, though, as it has
a bit of resistance...but that's not a bad thing, it just gives
you something to chew on. There's a sense of 'bigness' to it - it
doesn't seem to matter how hard or soft you blow it, it's always
fat 'n juicy - as well as being remarkably even-toned throughout
As for the tuning? No problems at all. In fact really rather good.
Better, in fact, than I normally am. Bang on, from top to bottom.
Yeah, I raised an eyebrow too.
When I last blew this Martin it was as part of
play-off in the Yanagisawa A-WO33 review, and I'm rather afraid
it didn't do very well at all.
I noted at the time that the Martin was in a desperate state, and
it was only there to provide a little perspective among a heap of
testosterone-fueled modern altos. And I promised to give it a fair
crack of the whip once I'd sorted it out.
I think I can safely say it's been well and truly sorted out, so
I pitched it up against the TJ
RAW XS to see how it would fare.
Two things became immediately apparent; it was no longer the runt
of the pack - and in a 5-way rematch I don't think the Martin would
be at the bottom of the list.
With its leaks all sealed and the action in fine fettle, the Martin
put in a solid performance. I've taken flak in the past for saying
that a Martin (tenor) sounded like my old Yamaha YTS23...and I'm
gonna draw yet more flak by saying this Martin's very much like
the RAW. Both horns have considerable presence, but the way in which
they deliver it is slightly different. Let's say the tone was the
same (OK, humour me for a mo). The RAW feels very wide - the sound
it puts out seems to spread out in all directions. The Martin, on
the other hand, delivers the sound in more confined beam. It's like
it's more concentrated.
And yes, it is different...but it's not as different as you might
think (or hope). This is why I've always liked Martins - they take
the richness and warmth of the vintage approach and give it a bit
of a kick up the arse, which means they're as equally at home in
a modern context as they are playing crooners from the 1930s.
The RAW is undoubtedly louder and more powerful for less effort,
but the Martin has a noticeably sweeter top end. You get a more
strident delivery from the RAW's low end at full volume, but a richer
one from the Martin. However, if you break into subtone the two
horns get scarily close. Really close.
I think what really struck me about this horn is that it bridges
the divide between the vintage and the contemporary. Not just tonally
but physically too. That's no mean feat, and even if it's not quite
your cup of tea it at least deserves a large helping of respect
for that alone.
Your mileage, as the modern saying goes, may vary
- and you should always take my playtest comments with a healthy
pinch of salt. But I'll say this much - if I had to characterise
these two horns (in my own, inimitable, way) I'd say that you could
pick up the RAW and play it while you're wearing any old pair of
jeans and a T-shirt. But the Martin...you'd want to go put on your
Sunday best for.
If you get that, you get Martins. And I have to say, I'd still have
the RAW...not because the Martin is worse, but because they're not
so very different after all.
If you're interested in more details about the
repairs carried out to this horn, check out the two articles on
Blog (crook fitting and toneholes) - and for another technical
perspective (though of the tenor) I thoroughly recommend the excellent