Lineage, Lift-Off: Sarah Hanahan’s Alto Speaks in the Present Tense

Alto saxophonist Sarah Hanahan plays with the urgency of a musician who learned the music in real time—absorbing the tradition on the bandstand and transforming it into forward momentum.

"I've always been sure of my connection to the instrument," she says. "Anyone who knows me knows my dad is a drummer and a great musician. He really got me hip to the music when I was a young kid... we'd watch his DVDs of Buddy Rich's big band, and I loved how the saxophones were always taking the first solos and bringing the house down."

The journey from that living room spark to a national profile involves serious study and mentorship. "From third grade all the way till now, I've been playing alto," Hanahan continues. "It wasn't until my sophomore year in high school that I started getting very serious about jazz—studying and thinking, 'This is what I want to do.'" She pursued that goal at the Jackie McLean Institute at the Hartt School, then at Juilliard, and performed on bandstands with the Mingus Big Band, Ulysses Owens Jr.'s Generation Y, the Diva Orchestra, and drummer Joe Farnsworth. Her 2024 debut, Among Giants (Blue Engine Records), with Marc Cary, Nat Reeves, and Jeff Tain Watts garnered significant attention and some glowing reviews.

For Hanahan, achievement is tied to routine. "People ask what I do to warm up," she says, laughing. "I'm always kind of warmed up—I'm always on my horn, whether it's gigs or practicing. As musicians, we live this. Being with Joe Farnsworth the last three years really built my endurance because we play fast and for a long time. It's like being a marathon runner—you build it over time, but you must run every day to keep it up. For me, I get on the horn every day."

A historian's ear anchors that ethic. "The tradition of this music is so vast and so beautiful," she says. "It's been passed down from generation to generation not by books or anything online, but by being up on the bandstand and learning right there. In one way or another, you're still being taught by Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, or Louis Armstrong." She loves tracing the line. "People I love being around—someone like Eddie Henderson—his first trumpet lesson was with Louis Armstrong. It's amazing. I love history, especially the history of this music. It's really this country's history, from the good to the bad."

Among Giants bears that perspective in its personnel and design. "When I thought about doing my first record as a leader, I thought about the first records I love," Hanahan explains. "Kenny Garrett is a real hero—his first record was with his heroes. That always stood out to me. Having great, legendary players you've spent time around is a co-sign. It says publicly they believe in you." She chose musicians who helped shape her voice: "Nat taught me how to play on the bandstand—bringing me up on gigs I wasn't ready for and pushing me to grind harder. Marc plays the piano like no one else—he grounds me and makes me stop and listen. And Tain is the bomb—such a beautiful person and a force."

Composition for her is a way to show respect and move the conversation forward. "My concept was to honor the tradition and the lineage, but also put my spin on things—my touch in the compositions," she says. "I love mixing the old and the new." On "Resonance," that blend takes the form of a wide emotional arc. "I wanted to create an arc from start to finish—play with a lot of love and fire," she says. "Of course, it's inspired by the great John Coltrane. We had a lot of nice moments together as a band on that track, and I really love how it came out."

Her approach to standards is equally deliberate. "Choosing 'Stardust' was an easy yet difficult choice because it's a warhorse," Hanahan admits. "My teacher, Abraham Burton—who produced Among Giants—challenged me to learn it through Nat King Cole, to learn the lyrics and phrases like a vocalist. It changed my perspective on ballads. You have to know the lyrics. All the greats say that. I wanted to be able to play a ballad like a vocalist and portray the meaning of the song." The process wasn't superficial; it was craftsmanship. "Nat sings it in a different key, so I had to learn it and then transpose it," she adds. "It helped me so much."

What you hear in her playing is the tension she describes—reverence and risk held in balance. "I'm always going back to Bird and Dizzy and even before, to Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet," she says. "What they produced is incredible and genius. Studying that music every day is what keeps me moving." At the same time, she's writing new material, testing it on the bandstand, and refining it with a working quartet of peers close to her age. "I've been writing new music, and we've been working it out—we're having a blast," she says. "You'll definitely hear some new tunes, a couple from Among Giants, and some American songbook standards I love—Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie. A little bit of everything for everybody."

Even in intimate venues—like SFJAZZ's Joe Henderson Lab—Hanahan's sound remains rich and direct. "I love an intimate room," she says. "I love being able to connect with the crowd right up front. We're still going to play really hard and give it our all and play our hearts out." That focus on connection reflects how she first learned the music: up close, on the stand, with mentors and heroes just feet away. It is not nostalgia; it is a method.

Her comments about practice and lineage might suggest a strict traditionalist, but the evidence points elsewhere. She builds her vocabulary from the canon and then pushes toward heat and lift. The tone is bright and singing, the lines are crisp, and the phrasing reflects the lyric study she absorbs from singers. The rhythm section choices—Reeves's grounded walk, Cary's elastic time, Watts's combustible swing—surround the alto in motion rather than caution, and Hanahan steps into that energy with authority. She doesn't treat the past as a museum; she treats it as stagecraft.

That stance also influences her sense of community. "It's been passed down... by being on the bandstand and learning right there," she says again, returning to the idea to emphasize it. Hanahan belongs to a group where apprenticeship is not just a buzzword but a daily reality—young players taking long solos, accepting feedback, and coming back the next night to try again. She frequently uses the word "love" when talking about mentors and peers, and it feels less like a cliché than a genuine statement of values: respect for those who teach her and a responsibility to be that kind of presence for the next player. For listeners experiencing her music for the first time, that ethos serves as the entry point. The repertoire includes originals, bebop, and the American songbook; the attitude prioritizes commitment over cool. "We're still going to play really hard," she says. "We're going to give it our all and play our hearts out." It is a promise as much as a description, and she consistently upholds it.

The next chapter is already underway—fresh tunes on the stand, deeper dives into the lineage, and more opportunities to make the case face-to-face. Hanahan puts it this way: "We're going to play really hard," she promises, "and I'm really looking forward to seeing everybody."

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