The Big Ben wrote:One question, then:jellybucket wrote: Why is it that you all think I am a non-musician? Okay - here is another nugget of information, I play the violin (not professionally). I met my husband in orchestra in college.
Do you have "World Class Sound"?
Jeff "Just asking..." Benedict
I like this story! It reminds me of how I met my husband. We were in also in orchestra together in college. I had a cast on my arm, so I couldn't play - but I had to show up and sit in rehearsals or I wouldn't get credit for the class. Instead of sitting in my usual first violin, third stand position I decided to lurk in the back of the room, I felt a little less stupid there. I pulled up a chair in the back row next to this extremely attractive tuba player I had never noticed before. Then, listening to him play - I was hooked for life. Ever since that moment I can never not notice a tuba, it's a problem I have. I don't even remember what the orchestra was rehearsing that day. Was it Meistersinger maybe?The Big Ben wrote:I must say that I had an interesting encounter with a string player when I was in college....
I was in a student orchestra. It was made up of a cross section of the campus- students, a couple of janitors and a few instructors also. We played music that was on the order of difficult high school music.
I was one of the resident Trumpet Doofuses and, along with a trombone player, we made up the brass section. I distinctly remember that the entire string section treated us as if we were some sort of strange amusement found at a zoo. The bone player wore sunglasses inside and the other trumpet player was a strange fellow who insisted on wearing white cotton gloves while he played so we called him "Gloves". I had a bright red beard as long as the guys in ZZ Top. I guess we gave the impression that dealing directly with us would be some sort of 'ticket to the weird' as the late Dr. Thompson would say. The strings and woodwinds always made sure that they were good and far away from us.
Anyhow, we were scheduled to have a special evening practice and I found the concertmistress at the same restaurant so, trying to be sociable, I asked to sit down. Her eyebrows raised slightly and then she said yes. We passed the time and were getting along well so I ordered some wine. She was impressed so, after that one was finished, I ordered another. It was a nice meal and, after two bottles of wine, we were both a little drunk. Difference is, though, I am a filthy, dirty brass player and she was a somewhat prim Catholic girl violin player.
We sloshed into the practice room and went about our business. I got out my horn, warmed up and sat down in the back row with the others. Having some experience playing in this condition, I did fine even with the more difficult solo passages in one of the works. My friend, the concertmistress, was not so lucky. She turned out to be one of those giggly drunks. She made a few errors and found everything very funny. She almost fell off her chair a couple of times during the practice. She had somewhat regained her composure after about an hour but I could tell the director was pretty angry. I don't know what the repercussions were because, after the last concert, I graduated and haven't been back since.
snufflelufigus wrote:Uh, if you were my wife you'd have those mouthpieces cleaned and the horns shined and not laying around...
Brilliant!MaryAnn wrote:...
You could just skip the middle man and have the one play the other, the exit vent of the vaccuum attached to the mouthpiece of the tuba. Then you could just drink beer and watch football.
Nice one MaryAnn!!! But don't forget vacuum stands alone in it's own musical right. Who can forget Phish!MaryAnn wrote:Don't you mean polar opposite? I mean the tuba blows and the vacuum cleaner sucks. You could just skip the middle man and have the one play the other, the exit vent of the vaccuum attached to the mouthpiece of the tuba. Then you could just drink beer and watch football.
MA
Been there a number of times. Truly.Steve Marcus wrote:More often than I'd like to admit, she has stalked me while I'm staring at the computer screen and harrumphed, "TubeNet, huh? Shouldn't you be practicing?"
...[fill in the blank; it has been any number of things/"directives"]Loving wife wrote:"Shouldn't you be..."
Whoa! That's putting your life in jeopardy at this time of year in Tennessee! All those critters coming inside for the winter------!bloke wrote:HEY! I resemble that remark.Rob wrote:...Then there is Bloke...seems he lets his wife fix the vacuum while he takes pictures.....she must also be very understanding!
Rob
Actually, I just climbed back out from under the house, where I managed to fire up TEN dead electrical receptacles (which have been dead since we bought the place) in the entry, carport, and both screened-in porches...
...Of course, we've owned the place for over 2-1/2 years.
And don't forget Malcom Arnold's "A Grand Grand Overture," performed at the first Hoffnung music festival in London in the 1950's. It was scored for full orchestra, three vaccuum cleaners and an electric floor polisher, and was dedicated to President Hoover.David Richoux wrote:Don't forget Frank Zappa used a "rock" vacuum cleaner way before Phish - a real one way back in the Mothers of Invention days ...
My wife used to play the tuba - this is how we met.well, how many of you guys has a wife who PLAYS the tuba?
Emerald_green37 wrote:I do feel your pain. I opened my account here so I could talk to my son, the tuba player, now that he is away at college.
jellybucket wrote:First there’s the tubas. Lots of tubas. They lay around the house like sleeping shimmering weimaraners. They don’t move!
Not quite, cause actually they breed when you turn your back. Leave a tuba and a trumpet alone in a dark room and the next morning you will have a euphonium. By the time he left for college there were 27 instruments in my house.
Mom
who still has a few random mouthpieces in her purse, in the car, on the bookcase.........
Just let tuba players get old enough, and they will not block the access to the bathroom.Emerald_green37 wrote: When I got him settled and came home to an empty house the first time I sat down and cried. Not because I missed him - no, it was because for the first time in three years I could walk to the bathroom without climbing over a case.
