Oh my God, have I. I am the textbook definition of a gear junkie. If there was a saxophone accessory to be bought, I bought it. If there was a mouthpiece to be tried, I tried it. If there was a new ligature, I bought it. I even shelled out for that absurdly shaped piece of brass called the Klangbogen. I threw money at every shiny promise, fully aware, deep down, that I was chasing ghosts. I was a classic case of confirmation bias.
And here’s the worst part—I knew better. I had spoken to and corresponded with Dr. Joe Wolfe, one of the foremost acoustics researchers in the world. I had extensive discussions and training with physician Dr. Paul “Doc” Tenney, who helped me understand the physiological side of playing. On top of that, I had completed coursework in math, physics, and acoustics. I knew the science cold.
But instead of trusting it, I trusted the little voice in my head that said, “Maybe elite players like Chris Potter or Timothy McAllister can hear something science just hasn’t caught up to yet.” That voice let me spin endless justifications for what was, in truth, my own delusion.
I even argued my delusion—loudly—right here on this forum with @turf3. That was about two years ago. Let’s give credit where it’s due. @turf3 planted a seed of doubt in my hard little skull.
And that seed grew. I went back and reread more than sixty years of peer-reviewed research. I immersed myself in journal articles, textbooks, and reference materials. I branched into psychology and physiology. I wrote little essays, filled notebooks, and cross-checked sources. And slowly, I began to face the obvious. The foundational acoustics of woodwinds were solved decades ago. What was left wasn’t physics. It was psychology. It was me.
My mentor once told me I’d probably never escape the need for validation from elite players, and that I’d always cling to the myth that their artistry proved something beyond the science. He felt my insecurities ran too deep. Well, he was wrong.
I’m posting this not just as a “pseudo confession,” but as a testament to the power of a single, well-placed challenge. I’d encourage anyone else out there chasing the perfect piece of gear to ask a question. Am I looking for a physical solution to a psychological problem?
Thank you for reading this essay on my journey in overcoming gear acquisition syndrome. If you would like to learn more about me, please visit About Benjamin Allen.
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