Odd Man Out

Show up to a wedding reception in your bathing suit. Or go to a pet store and ask to buy whitewall tires. Ask your mother how delicious is her television. The collection of puzzling looks and feelings you gathered would make you understand how I feel playing trumpet in a Schuylkill County cover band.

Now for a moment, think of every local cover band you’ve seen. Did the bands have a lead guitarist? EVERY band has one. Bass player? EVERY band has one. Drummer? Please… EVERY band has one (and another one waiting in the wings that secretly wants to replace the main drummer since they’re a dime a dozen). But me, a Keyboardist? A minority few have them. A Trumpeter? Hardly. A Keyboardist guy like me who is also the Trumpeter??? I might as well be the Elephant Man at this point. You don’t need to look strangely at me on stage LIKE I have three heads, because I technically DO have three heads: Keyboardist, Vocalist, and the strangest of all by far, to any local bar patron, is the head of mine that plays the trumpet.

The initial crowd reaction upon first hearing/viewing of a Toolshed Jack song that has me playing the trumpet comes in three forms:

A) “…Huh? What was THAT noise? Is dat a trombone er sumthin’?”

B) “Wow, THAT’S different… Cool!”

C) “I am fully aware of what is going on, and I suppose I must acknowledge that something out of the ordinary is happening, so to show my weak curiosity I will stare at that man who is playing that instrument and show him my best emotionless deadpan stare until he believes that he has generally made a big mistake.”

Other than the first paragraph of my “Brian’s Blather” bio, I rarely write seriously about my musical credentials. But not to toot my own horn (HA HA! GET IT??? Ha. Ugh. I need a stiff drink…), but I’ve spent over a quarter century playing the trumpet. And I knew a good number of trumpeters while growing up. Regardless, you would not believe how rare (and therefore ‘odd’) that instrument is in the late-night music scene in the Skook. An alien ship landing on the 50-yard line during the Super Bowl does not get as many befuddled looks as I do when I start playing the trumpet during a local Toolshed Jack performance.

If you existed inside my head the first time each night I whip out the trumpet to play, you wouldn’t know what to make of it. It’s kind of like Show and Tell. “Hey everyone, over here… This is my pet trumpet. I can play it, and if I’m nice I can teach it tricks and stuff.” I always feel like that time when your middle school teacher caught you cheating and called you out in front of the whole class to explain yourself, young man. Remember the stares and surreal butterflies in your gut? There you go.

Am I too self-conscious? Perhaps, but put yourself in my shoes and feel that same humiliating stare you got in elementary school when during Truth or Dare you bragged but couldn’t touch your tongue to your nose. Sorry to have to rehash all these old long-lost and painful memories of your youth. On a related note: F.Y.I., after this column there will be counselors available in the PAMusicScene.com lobby for anyone who just needs someone to talk to.

Now here’s the interesting and ironic part of all this: My Toolshed Jack band mates LOVE that I play trumpet. That’s part of the reason why they asked me into the band years ago. Over the years they’ve picked rare songs to cover BECAUSE there was a good trumpet part in it. We used to play a couple songs by Cake, and we still have a good number of songs such as Hell (Squirrel Nut Zippers) and among others I use the trumpet for the ‘whistling solo part’ of Me and Julio Down By The Schoolyard (Paul Simon). I guess if you want something that sets our band apart from other local acts, this trumpet thing is it.

Outside of Schuylkill County, there are great late-night acts with impressive horn sections. But from within the county, by default I am the local Sultan of Satchmo. I kind of feel like the lone guy from those sweltering countries like Senegal that parade solo around the stadium during the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics. So each time on stage, right after the first trumpet note, I become Barnum and Bailey’s sideshow freak (well, more than usual.).

But by far, the best part of this anomaly is the fans that give me what I can only describe as the “Surfer Reaction”. These are the crowd members, God bless them, that initially react to the uniqueness of a trumpet with a certain particular enthusiasm. Imagine a guy who is a genetic mixture of Keanu Reeve’s character Ted in ‘Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure’, Crush the Sea Turtle from ‘Finding Nemo’, and the legendary Jeff Spicoli from ‘Fast Times at Ridgemont High’. And this is what you get after I finish my first trumpet song:

“…. w – w –w WHOA!! DUDE! I mean…. DUDE!!! TRUMPET GUY!! DUDE, AWESOME!!! (Intoxicated gnarly guy now attempts in reciprocation to play a flattering ‘air trumpet’, but instead of just using the mandatory 3 fingers to simulate the only 3 trumpet valves, he ignorantly uses all 10 fingers instead and wiggles them vigorously like he’s instead playing a snake-charmer pungi flute) . ROCK ON, TRUMPET MAAAANNNN…..!!”

I suppose I should just appreciate being noticed at all. Yeah, a trumpeter is not something you see often in a local cover band. Sometimes in other bands you see them surrounded with other horns, but being the lone brass player in a band makes me feel like I’m on the endangered species list. So with reluctant honor I will continue being that guy in that Toolshed Jack band that plays that instrument that some people really like to hear being played. I wish I was not my own island when I pick up the trumpet to play, but then again I certainly get my selfish share of much-needed attention. So Little Boy Brian – go blow your horn: We know you certainly blow (HA HA! I’M FUNNY!!! Ha. Ugh. Where’s that stiff drink? …)

-Brian from Toolshed Jack