The Brass Band Forum

Bodmin Band do a Proms in the Park concert every summer outside their bandroom on the lawns of Priory House. One year, when their bumper up cornet player was leaving to go to music college, they decided to make a feature of him in one of the pieces. They somehow persuaded him to stand on the small flat roof on the side of Priory House so that he was looking down over the audience and lawns to play the fanfare parts in one of the pieces. He played really well as always, but what they didn't realise was that he was absolutely terrified of heights and when it was time to climb back down he completely froze. In the end, a committee member had to ascend the ladder and carry him down over his shoulder, fireman's lift style, in front of the entire audience, who found that far more interesting than the compere's spiel, making rather more of an entertainment feature of him than they had intended...

Told to me by George Morgan, the famous Black Dyke Bass player in the 60's and 70's.
When asked by a member of an appreciative Danish audience how the Dyke bass section managed to get such a beautiful sonorous tone George explained that the Dyke basses walked around all day with two table tennis balls in their mouths to improve their embouchure.
To his surprise the following night the whole fornt row of the audience were sat there with their gobs full of table tennis balls watching the concert!!!

Surely there's someone else out there with some funny stories...

We do a carnival and Floral Dance (that's right, it was Cornish before Brighouse got their hands on it...) every year at Mevagissey (a little fishing village with narrow streets etc etc). We march round the village once for the carnival, there are always 2 bands, St Austell and ourselves, then the 2 bands join together for the Floral Dance where we go around the same route again, only this time ending in the village square where we proceed to speed up the music until the dancers can't keep up anymore and generally land in a heap on the ground.

Anyway, the cornets tend to get a little bored and start doing "siren" noises part way around - 2 of them playing a semi tone apart etc sound like a fire engine, especially in the narrow streets. We got part way around one year and the cornets started their usual siren impressions, but they kept pausing and doing it straight away again, which was quite odd - there's usually a particular place in the music. Anyway, we kept marching and the siren noises kept pipping in...

It took nearly an entire street before someone came running through and stopped the band, it really was a fire engine trying to get past us on an emergency call, and we'd carried on marching slowly down the middle of the road, completely blocking it, oblivious, even the cornets usually responsible for the noise hadn't twigged what was going on.

A few years ago I went on a youth band trip to London. I think it might have been for Music For Youth, I'm not entirely sure. Anyway, we stayed in a really bad hotel. I mean you get bad hotels, but this was horrendous. There was a sliding door for the bathroom in our room that refused to be either shut or open, it would slide to mid-way and stay there, the only way to have a shower was to tie a towel to the door handle and the loo roll holder.

Anyway, after being caught by the thing several times, I gave it a really hard shove and it shot back with such force that the top caught, the bottom kept going, and it ended up on a tilted angle, although fortunately still within it's runners. However, after quite a while of tugging frantically I couldn't fix the door and neither could my room mate.

We called on the help of one of the bigger lads in the band who, after calling us weak, didn't manage to shift it any further than we had. He went into the bathroom, and taking a firm grip on the door handle and the loo roll holder he proceded to pull both. Just as the door flew back into place and slammed shut we heard a crunching noise.

The end result was that the door had now jammed shut with him inside holding the remains of the loo roll holder and half the plaster from the wall which he had pulled off in the process of releasing the door. It took nearly an hour more to prise the door open and release him.

When I was a young cornet player, I remember going on stage at a school concert to giggles from the andience. It took me ages to work out what was funny. One of the bass's had a sign hanging on his bass which read "Danger heavy scaffolding."

On a more recent note, and though the effect has now worn slightly within the band. When we do park jobs, or carroling (anything that involves getting cold and wet) and the weather takes a turn for the worse we always try to stick it out. As the debate begins as to if we should call it a day, that bass's break into "The great escape"

The year before last we played at Barry, a costal town in a metal bandstand on the sea front. We were forced to stop when lightning struck a nearby building and we figured the bandstand might be next.

This is more of a spooky story than a funny one. A few summers ago, Mount Charles were asked to perform at a festival, something to do with druids, in celebration of the eclipse. It's certainly the strangest job we've ever done - although one this weekend nearly equalled it.

We were playing in the courtyard created by the remains of an old engine house just outside of Camborne (shortly afterwards the gentleman in one of the nearest houses murdered his wife and three step children, however I digress). The "concert" started at about 10:30pm and we had to start off in small groups of about 4/5 scattered around the courtyard representing the sun, the moon and the stars. At the end of the first piece we had to walk slowly back to our seats in formation in the corner, some still playing and some chanting. As we reached our seats and sat down, the gong went off exactly on the last beat of the final bar.

That wouldn't have been strange if it hadn't been in the centre of the courtyard all on its own with no-one anywhere near it at all. It was really really spooky. Especially since we didn't know what we were chanting meant. I'm sure there was probably a scientific explanation, but the whole concert was just extremely weird. There were torches lit to line the paths and something was burnt at the end... I don't think I want to know what the whole thing was actually about.

Come on people. Surely there are people out there with some funny banding stories. For the gross out factor, how about this one...

I was at a contest a few years back and had quite a lot of hanging about to do before my band's section so I decided to watch a few bands. There was a young-ish lad playing bass in a 4th section band. He was looking absolutely terrified when he came on stage, not just nervous but really really petrified. He took his seat and the band were about to start when he couldn't contain his nerves any longer.

To save face, however, he didn't want the general public to see him vomit if at all possible, so he leaned forward into the bell of his instrument and proceeded to have a good go at filling it...

Many years ago I was a very tired little girl on the band coach home after seeing Bradford Victoria play in Manchester. (Dad was euphonium soloist at the time). Everyone was hungry and tucking into their sandwiches over Saddleworth Moor. Someone unwrapped a particularly pungent wedge of Gorgonzola and Mum, mistaking the aroma for another one entirely, yelled halfway down the bus to Dad 'Geoffrey Wallis, put your shoes back on this minute!'

If we're on bus stories - and I must omit names from this one - there was an occasion on a band bus where the band had beaten local rivals for the first time (the local rivals had had a few years head start in this higher section and had gained unpopularity due to their attitude since we were promoted 12 months earlier). As their bus went to overtake on the motorway, the solo horn player decided to stand on a seat and drop his trousers and moon as they passed.

Unfortunately for him, the bus went over a bump in the road and he staggered sideways, his backside having a chunk taken from it when he landed on the mouth of the flugel player (she claimed to be traumatised for some time afterwards, and he suffered severe bruising to the buttock).

A couple of years ago at the Masters, we were staggering onto the bus to start our long trip back to Cornwall. Not being as well oiled as I could have been (I had an exam at 9am the following morning) I can remember it well. Our third cornet player staggered up the stairs - we always have a double decker - with a kebab in one hand and most of a drink sloshing around in one of those wonderful plastic glasses they always provide at band contests these days in the other (my glass collection has taken a real beating in recent years! Anyone would think they didn't trust brass bands!).

She managed to fall up the last three steps landing with her chin in the upstairs aisle, but didn't drop her kebab or spill a drop. She then refused to hand them over to anybody to enable us to help her up, but couldn't get up by herself either! Chaos ensued as several people piled into the back of her, collapsing into a heap of flailing arms and legs. Despite all that, with people landing on top of her, she still didn't spill a drop!

On another occasion at that contest, we had a second horn player who was at one of his first contests with the band. He was 14 at the time, but being a tall lad could easily have passed for 18 or 20. As I was supporting him from the pub to the bus (no I'm not tee total, though it seems to sound that way) we came upon a band outside another pub brandishing a cup, and yes they were mainly male. So there we were about to pass 20-odd well-oiled blokes (that could be taken two ways I guess, but I do mean in the form of alcohol consumption oiled!) and all of a sudden he slipped my grasp and tottered across the road towards them.

As he reached them he slurred "So who are you then?!" and the guy holding the cup went to shake his hand and named them as the winning band. Our second horn player looked him in the eye and said, "Really?! You played sh**e!" I thought he was going to be flattened. Fortunately everyone laughed as I (being half his size) muttered an apology and dragged him off up the road while he was protesting "WHAT?!?!" Even to this day he can't remember the incident.

Every year at Spennymoor, we've stayed in the same hotel - Blackwell Grange on the outskirts of Darlington. It's a fantastic old manor house set in several acres of land with a golf course, spa, swimming pool, gym etc.

Until this year I never really thought about the age of the place and the fact that old buildings have their myths and legends, but this year we were up particularly late and were sitting in the foyer at about 2am and came accross a leaflet that told the stories of all the ghosts rumoured to haunt the building including the one related to a painting that I'd always found intriguing (The Tartan Lady) on the landing of the main staircase from the foyer (I have never seen a painting like that one - no matter where you are her eyes follow you and if you walk from one side of the foyer to the other it seems as though she turns her head!)

Another ghost mentioned is that of a footman who got one of the maids pregnant. Both were cast from the house in disgrace, and in his anguish he hanged himself from one of the large trees lining the driveway. According to the leaflet he walks the grounds in the early hours of the morning wringing his hands and screaming in anguish.

Well, we sat there in the foyer then the bar most of the night. About 5:30am the party broke up and we went to our rooms. I always pack before going to bed on the last night of a contest because I know I won't feel like it in the morning and for some reason I forget less packing drunk than packing sober the following morning (and no not due to hangovers because I can be bad enough to be flat on my face and never get a hangover). By the time I packed, it was nearly 6am and I thought to myself that with breakfast being in an hour it was pointless going to bed. I would only feel worse for getting half an hour than for staying up and going to sleep on the bus at 9.

So I went back down to the bar and decided to play pool by myself (anyone that's seen me play knows I needed the practise!). I racked them up and broke and set about clearing the table when I heard a scream. My first thought was that I was mistaken and I was being stupid, it was probably an owl or something. So I carried on. Then I heard it again - it sounded like it was coming from outside. I thought perhaps someone from the band was messing around, but then realised that as far as everyone knew I was tucked up in bed, and I assumed that everyone else was doing that. I was starting to get a bit concerned at this point - still semi-drunk and absolutely knackered my brain was trying to tell me there was a ghost outside that was going to try and get me, while at the same time attempting to be completely rational.

As I hit the cue ball, I heard the scream again. This time, completely freaked out, I decided to abandon the game and sit somewhere near the front desk where the night porter was within shouting distance if necessary(complete wimp, I know). As I went to drop the cue, I saw the reflection of lights in the mirror over the fireplace. There was a fruit machine next to the doors leading out onto the patio... The theme of the machine was along the lines of ghosts and ghouls, witchcraft and wizardry. To confirm my suspicions, it screamed at me again. Evidently when the others had been around before, we'd been making too much noise to hear the screaming. How stupid did I feel?!?!?!

On the way back from a tour in Belgium this summer, one of the players had a large black sack with something in as part of his luggage and wouldn't tell anyone what it was. It wasn't until a week later tht we all found out from his sister that when we went out for a meal on the last night, he took his euphonium off the coach and went for a fag before the coach left. Then as the coach pulled off there was a bump as we ran over his euphonium! It was such a mess he couldn't get it back into it's case properly! But it all worked out ok, cos his insurance was so high that he bought himself a prestige euphonium with the pay out!

At a concert at Fratton Park football ground, just before the pompey vs Arsenal match this december, our french horn section (two teenage girls!) were giggling so much at the thought of being so near to Thierry Henry that not only on the way in, one of the managed to drop their music in a puddle, but when we watched it back on TV later, the commenator made a comment about the lack of horn sounds, because they were giggling so much!

Back in 1970 our band had qualified for the national finals down in London (3rd section) to be contested at

Back in 1970 our band had qualified for the national finals down in London (3rd section) to be contested at kensington town hall ,