Dan Morris: The Horn of Plenty
I’ve been a guitarist for nearly 25 years, yet the supple six-string was not my first musical love. To me, there has always been something particularly magical about the sound of a brass band.
Commonly associated with Armistice parades and similar pageantry, this gorgeous branch of the musical pantheon has a haunting and ethereal effect that stirs the soul like no other.
I’m not alone in feeling this way, and have been proud on many a Remembrance Sunday to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with other spectators whose breath has been resolutely taken away by the majesty of the brass sound.
As a kid, my enchantment with it manifested fully when, in primary school, I was offered the opportunity to learn a musical instrument.
A close pal of mine opted for a clarinet, wanting to go on to be a sax player. Others were determined to put their parents through the torture of starting out as beginner violinists, and there were, of course, those who were already burgeoning rock stars, and opted for the acoustic guitar.
For me, however, there was only one choice.
The power and punch of its sound coupled with the fact that it was simply oh so shiny drew me, hook, line and sinker, to the cornet.
Similar to the much more well-known trumpet, a cornet is distinguishable from its slightly bigger brother by its more compact shape along with its generally mellower tone quality.
For a seven-year-old chap, it was heavy, but manageable, and I quickly fell in love with the idea of being a brass man.
My father was delighted with my choice. Having been a brass player himself he was thrilled that I might be following in his footsteps, though did advise me that as he had spent the majority of his musical career emptying the spit valve of his trombone down the necks of unfortunate and unsuspecting cellists, he was not the best person to provide guidance on orchestral decorum.
I vividly remember the day that I walked into music practice, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and our ordered instruments had finally arrived. Opening the clasps of my cornet case for the first time, I marvelled at the gleaming treasure within in a manner comparable to Indiana Jones when he first set eyes on that golden idol.
Lifting my cornet out of its case - and grateful at the lack of arrows and assorted booby traps that plagued the aforementioned Dr Jones - I attached my instrument’s mouthpiece, and firmly blew. Nothing. Not a single sound erupted from my horn of plenty, and I can remember feeling resolutely miffed. However, my brass teacher - a wonderful, rosy-faced Welsh lady - assured me that this was to be expected, and with a bit of tweak to my technique, a glorious cavalcade of melody would soon come. And, indeed, it did.
Those reading who have experience with brass instruments will know that, like with many things in life, it ain’t as easy as it looks.
Pursing your lips in the correct manner to get a cornet to issue a sound takes practice, and this was to be a bit of a trial over the first couple of weeks. Luckily, however, it wasn’t long before I was proudly strutting around the landing of the family pile, treating my parents to a 7am wake-up call of a heavily abridged Land Of Hope And Glory. I bet those violins were suddenly looking pretty good, eh Pop?
Suffice to say, my cornet became a grand companion for a good couple of years, building my confidence and giving me a wonderful outlet of volume.
It was only when the heady days of high school (and, therefore, puberty and girls) came along that I decided to abandon my status as a brass boy in favour of over-styled hair, tight jeans and an electric guitar.
I don’t regret my decision in the slightest, though paying homage to the joy that brass music brought me in my early years is long overdue.
After last week’s rant about the youth of today, I also thought it politic to throw a suggestion into the ring that might be helpful in terms of getting kids off apps and being more sociable.
If you’re not a sporty child - and I certainly wasn’t - music can be the answer. From the age of seven, playing an instrument has given me a wonderful social world that I have always been grateful for. Most importantly, as a kid it was a safe way to meet other youngsters and work together to create something brilliant.
It may not be for everyone, but it’s probably for more than most people think.
And, as much as anything, Paul McCartney’s current net worth reportedly sits at £1 billion. Worth a look, eh?
