When I was in college, I played in a certain notorious “marching band.” Sadly, my original instrument, French horn, doesn’t translate well to the football field – it points backwards, which is a distinct advantage in a stadium – and so I played a mellophone instead. The better ones look like this:
The worse ones we called turkey horns. They looked like this, if you can mentally add a few dents and scrapes:
Yes, this is a pretty specimen, and the term “turkey horn” might seem harsh. But here’s the problem. This horn is good and loud – a plus on the field – but chronically out of tune. Even the best of us couldn’t stop it from sucking. (At least a couple of you readers know just how epically it sucked.)
So I can’t resist comparing the vuvuzela to the mellophone: the main purpose of each is to produce a lot of woefully uncontrollable noise. Both are apt to frighten small children. As my husband observed, “The vuvuzela is a mellophone without valves.”
Here’s proof positive that he’s right. The musicians in this clip are performers at the Konzerthaus Berlin, the exact place where I met my husband nearly 19 years ago. They don’t identify what they play in “real life,” but I’m assuming they’re all brass players, because they coax a pretty nice sound from the humble vuvuzela. (The room’s acoustics don’t hurt, either.) If you don’t get the German, they’re discussing how to make the correct sound to produce a beautiful round tone on the vuvuzela. They then perform a Bach Chorale and the little-known vuvuzela solo that Ravel, as they dead-pan, “couldn’t resist” including in his “Bolero.”
Via Opera Chic and Big Think; originally at Die Zeit.
Just try doing better on a turkey horn!
Patron cat of Kittywampus (1985-2001)
The UCSD pep-band saunters (we don’t march) French Horns, but only because most everyone provides their own horns. I suppose that’s what happens when you don’t have a football team; no one wants to invest in the band.
That said, a music stand in the right place really helps out.
Outdoors, though, you’ve still got the problem of the bell pointing the wrong direction. This is not such a massive problem if you’ve got some sort of acoustical shell behind you. Most outdoor venues don’t have that, though. In symphonic band in college, we used to do an outdoor concert in spring. Even though Frost Amphitheater was a terrific venue for amplified music (I have many fond memories of Dead shows there), we horns didn’t stand a chance of being heard.
I used to play jazz with a guy who doubled on mellophone, or “mellophonium” as he called it. I don’t remember any particular pitch problems, and I wasn’t aware of the low esteem in which this instrument is held among brass players until I read a review of the Stan Kenton album “Adventures In Jazz”. I knew that Mr Kenton had for some reason decided that he needed a mellophone section in his band. What I didn’t realise until I read that review was the near mutinous reaction of those called upon to be in it. The sound on the record indicates that they overcame these problems somehow, but your post reminded me of this strange phase in the history of the Stan Kenton band, and how much the listener to music is completely unaware of all the stresses and strains which accompany its performance.
It sounds to me as if old Stan was having an attack of band leader syndrome – “I get what I want” – worthy of the late Buddy Rich.
There’s definitely a range of quality in mells. The now-standard ones are better than the turkeys, and I’ve played on a few that weren’t too terrible. I think it just doesn’t pay to make them top-quality because they are basically marching instruments, which are bound to take some abuse.
I will have to keep an eye out for “Adventures in Jazz.” I’m curious what the best musicians can do with a mell.
[...] vuvuzela madness: lauter potenzielle Eleven! Jump to Comments Like Sungold, I’m a former French horn player, but unlike her, I was never in a marching band and never [...]