Trumpets work well even though this one is well past its sell-by date. The emotional content of the music is often directly related to the pressure on your diaphragm and this can compensate for a quarter-speed performance and increasingly shaky intonation as you climb the scale.
Note there are only three valves which might suggest that it is a good deal easier to play than the piano with its 80-odd keys or the violin which, theoretically, has an infinite number of stops. True in a sense. However, as things get higher the valves become less relevant as more and more notes are created by embouchure (lip tension) alone.
I was always drawn to the trumpet. Since I couldn’t read music I laboriously transcribed the fingering for simple tunes on to paper and then went down to practise in my long-suffering mother’s gloriously resonant cellar. I was even disciplined enough to play a whole octave of scales beginning with what I fondly imagined to be middle C (Open, 1&3, 1&2, 2, open, etc). Alas, when I tried my first (and last) duet with a piano and provided my middle C the pianist bluntly pointed out that it was in fact B flat. One of us had to adjust and it wasn’t going to be him.
I quickly reached the limits of my competence. I never mastered double tonguing (tacka-tacka) never mind triple tonguing. And I always had rhythm problems which manifested themselves elsewhere in my ability to dance a foxtrot to quickstep music. On the whole I was reduced to playing hymns which, given my attitude towards religion, led to a good deal of misunderstanding, especially in the USA.
Note there are only three valves which might suggest that it is a good deal easier to play than the piano with its 80-odd keys or the violin which, theoretically, has an infinite number of stops. True in a sense. However, as things get higher the valves become less relevant as more and more notes are created by embouchure (lip tension) alone.
I was always drawn to the trumpet. Since I couldn’t read music I laboriously transcribed the fingering for simple tunes on to paper and then went down to practise in my long-suffering mother’s gloriously resonant cellar. I was even disciplined enough to play a whole octave of scales beginning with what I fondly imagined to be middle C (Open, 1&3, 1&2, 2, open, etc). Alas, when I tried my first (and last) duet with a piano and provided my middle C the pianist bluntly pointed out that it was in fact B flat. One of us had to adjust and it wasn’t going to be him.
I quickly reached the limits of my competence. I never mastered double tonguing (tacka-tacka) never mind triple tonguing. And I always had rhythm problems which manifested themselves elsewhere in my ability to dance a foxtrot to quickstep music. On the whole I was reduced to playing hymns which, given my attitude towards religion, led to a good deal of misunderstanding, especially in the USA.
My lip went years ago and this battered bit of tubing is retained out of pure sentimentality. I am quite prepared to join anyone who feels the need to create a Failed Trumpeters Club.
CODA (Two days later). In dwelling on my inadequacies I see I have failed to convey the sheer pleasure for me, a non-musician, derived from creating - however badly (though I always looked for improvement) - any sort of music. Lady is a tramp with its trickiness still unresolved after the fiftieth attempt was always worth the effort.
