Calliopes in Paris

Last year around this time, we were all in Wind Ensemble. It was a typical afternoon, actually cold in February (seriously, what is up with the 80 degree weather we've had in my part of the country all week? Ridiculous. I think we tripped through fall and skipped winter and spring entirely just to land in summer all over again.). It was close to midterms. Rehearsal was just about the last place we wanted to be, so everyone was watching the clock. To be honest, I'm sure we weren't playing our best.

But the saxophone section...oh man. *start rant* (Please forgive my language in this one section, I get too passionate about music to help it.) Now, just in the illusion of honesty in this enviable anonymity of the internet world, I don't think I've ever met a sax player I haven't hated. They're either arrogant pricks or just retarded assholes. Some are both. But they're all one and the same. They're sleazy women-grabbers who think they have no fault in the world (especially when it comes to their music). They're like the bastard child of music who was only able to shirk off the black sheep tag for the unknowing masses due to their psychotic break that just so happened to be a lucky rebellion that turned into jazz. (And don't get me wrong, I love jazz music. Throw out the straight eights, give me a sultry beat, scat a few lines, pop in a Harmon muted trumpet and I'm cooked, done, gone. Take me now. Nothing sexier. I wish I'd been born in the 20s, because then I would've been the perfect age to enjoy the 40s, and I'd wear all the "vintage" clothes to match my pin curled hair with the smokey eyes and swing dance to the original big bands day and night. I would swing dance my life away if I could. But I digress...) Saxes are made of brass, but use a reed, so they're neither a brass instrument or a woodwind (technically, a flute should be considered brass, but it has nowhere near the tone quality of other instruments such as the trombone, and it doesn't use valves, so I supposed you could make a case either way, but ancient history puts it as a woodwind.). They're often times used in youth orchestras to cover the difficult french horn licks, but in a hundred years they still haven't figured out how to blend their sound to anything else, and yet they think they own the whole music realm and are allowed to improvise anything as they damn well please. So my point being, I hate saxes, and I especially hate idiot jerks who play saxes. *end rant*

But all of that aside, on this particular day in rehearsal, the saxes were just off the charts wrong. There's always one off (usually the bari), but this time it was all seven. Out of tune, out of rhythm, whole measures away from the group, really on a different planet. It was so bad, Doc didn't even cut us off. He just put his hands down and shook his head slowly.

And gave us this quite memorable quote:

"Saxes, what is going on today? You sound worse than a calliope. It's like it's raining in Paris and even the monkeys aren't dancing." 

(aside: a calliope is one of those old carnival organs. You can look it up here and listen to a few diddlies. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calliope_(music) And seriously, please listen to at least the track in the beginning. You will *almost* regret it, but it totally makes this quote.)

There was a pause, and several of us students were trying to hold in our laughter out of respect, especially since Doc doesn't ride us too often - and when he does, it's more than justifiable.

But then Doc just added the epic fireworks.

"I didn't even think about that one. That was good!"

Now that we'd been given permission, everyone was just DYING. I'm pretty sure someone dropped an instrument. Even Doc let out this guffaw I don't think I've ever heard before or since.

And finally, Doc hit the home run. 

"There are just some days, guys, I tell ya. Don't poop in the punch bowl!"

I promise, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

Hobey-ho.