The Sax of The South: How Luis Alas Found His Sound, His Soul, and His Stage

You know, when people ask me how I became "The Sax of The South," I always think back to one conversation that changed everything. Mind you, it wasn't glamorous, just a scholarship audition at Miami Dade College with Dr. John Alexander, a mentor who had both a sharp ear and an even sharper way of cutting through the nonsense.

I walked in there full of confidence, telling him I wanted to be like Kenny G. Hey, the guy was on top of the world in the '90s, right? Dr. Alexander didn't even blink. "So you want to be an imitator?" he asked. That stung. "No!" I shot back. He paused, smiled, and said, "Ohhh, you want to be famous like Kenny G." When I nodded, he dropped the line that became my compass: "All the greats: Breckers, Sanborns, Parkers, Kenny G: they sound like no one else. If you want a shot, you need to develop a sound that's unmistakably yours."

To say that moment changed everything is an understatement. That challenge became the foundation of everything I've built since.

A Sound Born of Culture and Circumstance

Growing up in Hialeah in the 1980s meant living in a sonic melting pot. I was surrounded by salsa, merengue, and that pulsing Miami sound: bands like YAZ, Lime, and Information Society were the soundtrack of my youth. But it was the Spanish evangelical church where I cut my teeth, playing drums, keys, and sax with what we called a full praise team. Mind you, that wasn't common back then, but it gave me my first real stage experience.

When Miami Sound Machine dropped "The Rhythm Is Gonna Get You," something clicked for me. I knew the saxophone could be more than just another instrument: it could be the heartbeat of a song, the soul that made people move. That realization planted a seed that would grow through years of service, struggle, and eventually, stages I never imagined I'd grace.

Now, living in Atlanta and carrying the title "The Sax of The South," I'll be honest: it's still surreal. There are so many incredible sax players here, Kim Waters being just one example. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve it, but then I remember Dr. Alexander's words about developing something unmistakably mine.

Before the Music: A Life of Service

Here's something most people don't know about my journey: before I ever stepped onto a professional stage, I was protecting nuclear assets as a USAF Security Specialist from 1988 to 1996. My role took me into high-stakes operations, including working as an attaché to a NATO security advisor during the Bosnian conflict. Later, I served as a Police Officer for the Department of Veteran Affairs at the Miami VA, and from 2002 to 2008, I worked internationally as a Federal Air Marshal, collaborating with agencies like Interpol and the Carabinieri.

Through all of this: the tension, the responsibility, the weight of protecting others: music was my sanctuary. It wasn't just an escape from the realities I was dealing with; it helped me center myself. Eventually, I realized music wasn't just something I did. It was who I was.

The men and women I worked with during those years, they're brothers and sisters to me. My growth as a musician is their pride as much as it is mine, and I carry that sense of duty and service into every performance.

The Moments That Define You

In a small town called Hogansville, after playing "Bella's Melody," a woman approached me with tears in her eyes. "When you played that song, it moved me so deeply I couldn't stop crying," she said. I was stunned. It was the first time someone told me my playing had that kind of emotional impact. That moment taught me something crucial: music isn't meant to be perfect. It's meant to be felt.

Then came the big stages. In 2022 and 2023, I co-starred with Jon Secada in multiple shows. To say I was terrified at first is putting it mildly. But Jon told me it would be an honor to perform with me anytime. That validation from someone I'd respected for years: it meant everything. We still stay in touch, working to align future dates.

The show with Tito Puente Jr. was pure serendipity. I'd just performed at a Telemundo award ceremony when Linda Prichart, Councilwoman for South Fulton, introduced herself. She was organizing a festival and invited me to play. That invitation became a lifeline when, later that year, I was struck with Bell's Palsy and lost my ability to play. A car accident followed. I had to take a hiatus for almost a year, but I'm back now: with new music and a renewed fire.

The Philosophy Behind the Sound

My Latin jazz track "En Mi Sangre" embodies everything I believe about music. I've tried to stray from Latin music over the years, but like a siren, it calls. I can't deny it: I embrace it with both arms. The track represents my philosophy: solos aren't rehearsed, they're lived. Shows aren't scripted, they're felt.

Before every show, I gather my band and tell them, "Forget everything you learned. Play from the heart." I believe in playing the moment, letting it flow from my heart to my breath to my horn. Sometimes flaws are part of the emotion, and that's okay. That's what makes it real.

I live with self-doubt every day. I still don't believe in myself as a musician sometimes, and that's why I practice so much. But after a show, I hope listeners glimpse my life: the sadness, the joy, the rollercoaster. I wouldn't change it for the world.

The Power of Partnership

Behind every performer is someone who makes it all possible. My wife and manager, Lauren Alas, is that person for me. She's the sweet Southern belle with the sharp business mind who balances out my analytical, sometimes too-blunt personality. With over 18 years in bank management, she brings strategic precision to our outreach. Together, we send out 10+ booking emails a day, building a national footprint one connection at a time.

Lauren isn't just my manager: she's my partner in every sense. When I get too caught up in the music and forget the business side, she keeps us moving forward. That balance is probably why I married her, and it's definitely why we work so well together professionally.

What's Coming Next

With Gorov Music promoting my upcoming single "Sax You Up" this November, I'm ready for the next leap. There's a new wave of original music in motion, and I'm aiming for national stages, ticketed shows, and festival lineups that match the energy I bring to every performance.

I want to play nationally, and I believe this new music will get me there. When that happens: and I say when, not if: it won't be because I sounded like anyone else. It'll be because I sound like Luis Alas.

A Message to the Next Generation

If a young saxophonist ever says, "I want to be like Luis Alas," my advice is simple: grow to be a great person first. Fill your heart with love. The music will follow. If I can shelter you from some of the pain I've experienced along the way, that would be a blessing.

Remember what Dr. Alexander taught me all those years ago: the greats don't imitate; they innovate. They find their own voice, their own sound, their own stage. That's what I've tried to do, and it's what I hope to inspire in others.

The journey from that young man in Dr. Alexander's office to the stages I'm playing today hasn't been straight or easy, but it's been mine. Every note, every performance, every moment of doubt and triumph has led me here: to Atlanta, to this music, to this life I wouldn't trade for anything.

Stay tuned for "Sax You Up" this November, and I hope to see you at an upcoming show. The best is yet to come.