As a youngster, Johnny Hodges was a saxophonist in Boston whose style, in the estimation of all other alto saxophonists, was unique. Even now, I have never yet met and don't know of a saxophonist who didn't say he was knocked out by Johnny Hodges. As I originally told Stanley Dance years ago, "Johnny Hodges has complete independence of expression. He says what he wants to say on the horn, and that is it. He says it in his language, which is specific, and you could say that his is pure artistry. He's the only man I know who can pick up a cold horn and play in tune without tuning up."… Chick [Webb] came to me and said he thought Johnny would be better in our band… and no decision could have been better, for with more freedom of expression Johnny developed into the most outstanding name in the band… His sultry solos were not done in an attempt to blow more notes than anyone else. He just wanted to play them in true character, reaching into his soul for them, and automatically reaching everybody else's soul. An audience's reaction to his first note was as big and deep as most applause for musicians at the end of their complete performance. Audiences acted as though they understood and agreed with him, showing this in responses that ranged from grunts, oohs, and aahs to "Yes, daddy!" … He was a combination of himself and Sidney Bechet, who loved him and always encouraged him. His tonal charisma is difficult to describe, but he always referred to it as "the kitchen." If someone else played something in his style, he would say, "All right, come out of the kitchen!"