It is the riff. That soaring, slightly mournful, undeniably cool sequence of notes that every amateur sax player tries to mimic the second they pick up an alto. You know it. Even if you don't know Gerry Rafferty, you know Baker Street on saxophone. It’s the kind of sound that cuts through a crowded room. It’s lonely. It’s triumphant. Honestly, it’s probably the reason half the people in the late seventies even bothered to learn a woodwind instrument in the first place.
But here is the thing about that solo: it almost didn't happen on a sax.
Before Raphael Ravenscroft walked into Chipping Norton Recording Studios, Rafferty had actually envisioned that hook being sung. He tried it with guitars. He tried it with vocals. It just didn't click. It felt thin. Then Ravenscroft showed up with a Selmer Mark VI and changed music history in about a afternoon’s work. There is a lot of myth-making around this track—tales of lost royalties, "stolen" melodies, and the specific gear used—but the reality is even more interesting than the urban legends.
The Technical Grit Behind the Sound
When you listen to Baker Street on saxophone, you aren't just hearing a melody. You are hearing a specific, aggressive technique called "growling."
Ravenscroft wasn't just blowing air through a reed. He was humming or screaming into the mouthpiece while playing. This creates that gritty, distorted texture that makes the sax sound more like a Les Paul piped through a Marshall stack than a jazz instrument. It’s raw. If you play it too clean, it sounds like elevator music. If you play it too rough, it loses the melodic "cry" that makes it iconic.
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He used a metal Berg Larsen mouthpiece. If you're a gear nerd, you know that’s basically the secret sauce for that high-frequency "edge." Metal mouthpieces offer a brightness that hard rubber just can't touch. Most people think it’s a tenor sax because of the depth, but it’s actually an alto. The way Ravenscroft pushes the instrument into the altissimo range—those notes above the standard fingering chart—is what gives the riff its "reaching" quality. It feels like it’s straining for something.
The Controversy: Who Actually Wrote It?
Let's address the elephant in the room. For decades, there’s been this persistent rumor that the riff was "borrowed" from a track called "Half a Heart" by Steve Peregrin Took’s band, Shagrat. Some people even point to Larry Coryell’s "The Opening" from 1972.
If you listen to the Coryell track, yeah, there’s a similarity. It’s a similar blues-scale run. But music is a giant conversation. Rafferty always maintained he wrote the melody on a guitar first. Ravenscroft, on the other hand, occasionally claimed in interviews that he composed the specific lick on the spot because Rafferty’s original ideas weren't working.
The tragic bit? Ravenscroft famously complained that he only received a check for £27 for the session, which allegedly bounced. Meanwhile, the song was pulling in roughly £80,000 a year in royalties for Rafferty decades later. That’s a bitter pill. However, later research suggests the "bouncing check" story might have been a bit of rock-and-roll hyperbole Ravenscroft enjoyed telling. Regardless of who penned the specific notes, the performance is what stayed in the public consciousness.
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Why It’s So Hard to Play Well
Ask any wedding band saxophonist about Baker Street on saxophone and watch them wince. It’s a workout.
The riff requires incredible breath support. You have to hit those high notes with perfect intonation while maintaining that "growl" we talked about. If your embouchure—the way you set your lips—isn't rock solid, the pitch will sag. It ends up sounding like a dying seagull.
Then there’s the rhythm. It’s not perfectly on the beat. It has this "lazy" swing to it. You have to lay back on the notes, especially the transitions between the high D and the descending line. Most students rush it. They get nervous about the high notes and sprint through the phrase. But the magic is in the sustain. You have to let the notes breathe.
Common Pitfalls for Saxophonists
- Over-blowing: Trying to get the "loud" sound by just pushing air, which kills the tone.
- Cleanliness: Playing it like a classical etude. It needs some "dirt" on it.
- Reed Choice: Using a reed that is too soft. You need resistance to get that altissimo pop.
- The "Gliss": Missing the subtle slides between notes that give it a vocal quality.
The Cultural Shadow of the Solo
It’s impossible to overstate how much this song changed the landscape for the saxophone in pop music. Before 1978, the sax was often relegated to soul horn sections or avant-garde jazz. Baker Street on saxophone made it a lead instrument again. It paved the way for the eighties "sax solo" explosion—think Men at Work, Duran Duran, or Glenn Frey’s "The Heat Is On."
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It also became a bit of a cliché. It’s the "Stairway to Heaven" of the woodwind world. Go into any music shop in London or New York, start playing those first four notes, and the clerk will probably ask you to leave. It has been parodied in The Simpsons (Lisa Simpson nails it, obviously) and used in countless films to signify "1970s urban cool."
But clichés only happen because something was incredibly effective the first time. The song is named after a street in London, but the sax solo feels like a late-night drive through any city in the world when you’re feeling a bit lost. It captures an atmospheric loneliness that words usually fail to hit.
Actionable Tips for Nailing the Sound
If you’re actually trying to play Baker Street on saxophone, don't just buy a sheet music book and follow the dots. You’ll fail.
- Record yourself humming while you play. This is the only way to master the growl. Start with a low note and try to match your voice's pitch to the sax's pitch. Once you get that "vibration" in the sound, try it on the Baker Street riff.
- Focus on the D6. That high D is the climax of the riff. If it’s thin, the whole thing falls apart. Use a side-key fingering if your standard fingering sounds stuffy.
- Listen to the 1978 original on high-quality headphones. Pay attention to the reverb. There is a "hall" effect on the sax that adds to the epic feel. If you’re playing live, add a bit of delay and a medium-room reverb to your signal chain.
- Check your reed. You want a synthetic reed or a very consistent cane reed (like a Vandoren Java Green) around a 2.5 or 3 strength. You need that "snap."
- Study the "scoops." Notice how Ravenscroft doesn't just hit the notes dead-on. He often starts slightly flat and "scoops" up into the pitch. It’s a very vocal, bluesy technique.
The legacy of this track isn't just about a guy in a studio in 1978. It’s about how one specific instrument can define the entire emotional core of a song. Gerry Rafferty wrote a great tune about the disillusionment of the music industry and the desire to go home, but Raphael Ravenscroft provided the voice for that feeling.
To master the riff, you have to stop thinking like a musician and start thinking like a singer. Forget the fingerings for a second. Think about the "cry." That is what people are listening for. They want to feel that specific ache.
To get the most authentic tone, ensure you are practicing your overtones daily. This strengthens the throat muscles required for the altissimo register. Without this foundation, the high notes in the solo will always sound pinched rather than powerful. Aim for a "wide" oral cavity, as if you are yawning, while maintaining a tight seal around the mouthpiece. This internal space is what allows the sound to resonate fully, mimicking the iconic Chipping Norton studio acoustics. Practice the riff in short bursts to avoid embouchure fatigue, and always warm up with long tones before attempting the aggressive growling sections.