Give a trombone to a vampire to stave off its bite. I don’t normally do this: picture a vampire playing the bone, but what more surefire way than embouchure to keep the mouth occupied. Once the monsters put down their brass then we’ve got a reason to run. To run or be gored. I was starting to side against seatbelt laws—we’re all grown-ups after all—but now I’ve got to reconsider. Strap, secure the body; plug the mouth with mouthpiece.
Well, it used to be funny, the trombone, like a plunger. “Flight of the Bumblebee” and a hearty laugh. Now here in this century there’s something less amusing about the thing; there’s something dangerous and luddite about it. The brass section just doesn’t seem to be keeping step with the rest of us. Captain Zuck wants our faces, Musk our brains, but the trombonist, whatever do they want with us? Greed, gain, play; the rules of negotiation don’t fit here.
There’s freedom in the trombone—too much freedom, some of you say. It’s that freedom that captures the imagination of certain individuals. Matthias Müller—the teeth hidden from plain view—pushes the parameters of the trombone and makes the beautiful and strange results available to us.
More about: Matthias Müller
