Showing posts with label musical talent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label musical talent. Show all posts

Wednesday, 17 October 2007

Eccentric Accessories

"The most futile thing in this world is any attempt, perhaps, at exact
definition of character. All individuals are a bundle of contradictions --
none more so than the most capable."
Theodore Dreiser, author (1871-1945)

Thank you, Shelagh, for that apt quote, particularly as it fits in perfectly with your little brother -

Himself is now into Accessories – of the jazz kind of course.

‘I need a bag to put my trumpet in,’ he declared (this was several instruments ago, if you’ll pardon the expression) and it didn’t have a case, and despite the fact that he was a long way from playing in public, he had to buy a bag - from the market in Falmouth.

That was too small so he bought another one from Trago (cheap store here in South West). That was also the wrong shape and he saw this flight bag in Tesco and said, ‘this is just what I want, Pop’. Which was what he’d said about the other two.

Then, in search of perfection, he sold that trumpet and bought another cornet (you can see a pattern emerging here) and now this cornet has a case that came with it. But instead of not using the new flight bag, which he’s obviously rather taken with, he takes that down to the jazz sessions. Inside it, on Sunday, was a small notepad and biro for making notes about any numbers he didn’t know, and – a cheese sandwich. Very professional.

His accessories cause me a certain amount of amusement, not least the latest.

‘Look,’ he said, showing me tiny address book he’d just bought. (This is also destined for The Flight Bag). ‘It’s got all the musicians’ numbers that I need.’

He opened it at a page with my mother’s phone number on which slightly mystified me. Is my mother a mean trombonist, unknown to her children? Does she scurry from the wilds of Devon down to darkest Cornwall, don dark glasses and smoke a pipe and become a tromboning jazz mystery?

‘Why have you got Mum’s number?’ I said, just to clarify things.

‘Because I can never remember it, and I might want to ring her and tell her something,’ he said. I can’t see that happening, but it was a good answer.

As you can see, he is Dead Keen about jazz now and the phone is hot with arrangements for rehearsal sessions, making a practice tape, the next jazz session. But with music there are always problems, the latest one being the wrong mouthpiece.

While I am always keen to encourage his musical talents, sometimes it gets a bit much. Last night, when I was trying to read, he was lying in bed playing both mouthpieces. The ones belonging to the cornet, I hasten to add.

Fancy a house swap, anyone?