Hey, Y'all, Watch This!
Posted: Fri Aug 05, 2005 6:33 pm
Hey, Y'all, Watch This!
August, 1998, Montevideo, Uruguay
Paolo Esperanza, bass-trombonist with the Simphonica Mayor de Uruguay,
in a misplaced moment of inspiration decided to make his own
contribution to the cannon shots fired as part of the orchestra's
performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at an outdoor children's
concert. In complete seriousness he placed a large, ignited
firecracker, which was equivalent in strength to a quarter stick of
dynamite, into his aluminum straight mute and then stuck the mute into
the bell of his quite new Yamaha in-line double-valve bass trombone.
Later, from his hospital bed he explained to a reporter through
bandages on his mouth, "I thought that the bell of my trombone would
shield me from the explosion and, instead, would focus the energy of
the blast outward and away from me, propelling the mute high above the
orchestra, like a rocket." However, Paolo was not up on his propulsion
physics nor qualified to use high-powered artillery and in his haste
to get the horn up before the firecracker went off, he failed to raise
the bell of the horn high enough so as to give the mute enough arc to
clear the orchestra.
What actually happened should serve as a lesson to us all during those
delirious moments of divine inspiration. First, because he failed to
sufficiently elevate the bell of his horn, the blast propelled the
mute between rows of players in the woodwind and viola sections of the
orchestra, missing the players and straight into the stomach of the
conductor, driving him off the podium and directly into the front row
of the audience.
Fortunately, the audience were sitting in folding chairs and thus they
were protected from serious injury, for the chairs collapsed under
them passing the energy of the impact of the flying conductor
backwards into row of people sitting behind them, who in turn were
driven back into the people in the row behind and so on, like a row of
dominos. The sound of collapsing wooden chairs and grunts of people
falling on their behinds increased logarithmically, adding to the
overall sound of brass cannons and brass playing as constitutes the
closing measures of the Overture.
Meanwhile, all of this unplanned choreography not withstanding, back
on stage Paolo's Waterloo was still unfolding. According to Paolo,
"Just as I heard the sound of the blast, time seemed to stand still.
Everything moved in slow motion. Just before I felt searing pain in my
mouth, I could swear I heard a voice with a Austrian accent say, "Fur
every akshon zer iz un eekvul un opposeet reakshon!" Well, this should
come as no surprise, for Paolo had set himself up for a textbook
demonstration of this fundamental law of physics.
Having failed to plug the lead pipe of his trombone, he allowed the
energy of the blast to send a superheated jet of gas backwards through
the mouth pipe of the trombone, which exited the mouthpiece, burning
his lips and face. The pyrotechnic ballet wasn't over yet. The force
of the blast was so great it split the bell of his shiny Yamaha right
down the middle, turning it inside out while at the same time
propelling Paolo backwards off the riser. And for the grand finale, as
Paolo fell backwards he lost his grip on the slide of the trombone
allowing the pressure of the hot gases coursing through the horn to
propel the trombone's slide like a double golden spear into the head
of the 3rd clarinetist, knocking him unconscious and fracturing his
skull. I would think the moral of this story is, Beware the next time
you hear someone in the trombone section yell out, "Hey, y'all, watch
this!"
August, 1998, Montevideo, Uruguay
Paolo Esperanza, bass-trombonist with the Simphonica Mayor de Uruguay,
in a misplaced moment of inspiration decided to make his own
contribution to the cannon shots fired as part of the orchestra's
performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at an outdoor children's
concert. In complete seriousness he placed a large, ignited
firecracker, which was equivalent in strength to a quarter stick of
dynamite, into his aluminum straight mute and then stuck the mute into
the bell of his quite new Yamaha in-line double-valve bass trombone.
Later, from his hospital bed he explained to a reporter through
bandages on his mouth, "I thought that the bell of my trombone would
shield me from the explosion and, instead, would focus the energy of
the blast outward and away from me, propelling the mute high above the
orchestra, like a rocket." However, Paolo was not up on his propulsion
physics nor qualified to use high-powered artillery and in his haste
to get the horn up before the firecracker went off, he failed to raise
the bell of the horn high enough so as to give the mute enough arc to
clear the orchestra.
What actually happened should serve as a lesson to us all during those
delirious moments of divine inspiration. First, because he failed to
sufficiently elevate the bell of his horn, the blast propelled the
mute between rows of players in the woodwind and viola sections of the
orchestra, missing the players and straight into the stomach of the
conductor, driving him off the podium and directly into the front row
of the audience.
Fortunately, the audience were sitting in folding chairs and thus they
were protected from serious injury, for the chairs collapsed under
them passing the energy of the impact of the flying conductor
backwards into row of people sitting behind them, who in turn were
driven back into the people in the row behind and so on, like a row of
dominos. The sound of collapsing wooden chairs and grunts of people
falling on their behinds increased logarithmically, adding to the
overall sound of brass cannons and brass playing as constitutes the
closing measures of the Overture.
Meanwhile, all of this unplanned choreography not withstanding, back
on stage Paolo's Waterloo was still unfolding. According to Paolo,
"Just as I heard the sound of the blast, time seemed to stand still.
Everything moved in slow motion. Just before I felt searing pain in my
mouth, I could swear I heard a voice with a Austrian accent say, "Fur
every akshon zer iz un eekvul un opposeet reakshon!" Well, this should
come as no surprise, for Paolo had set himself up for a textbook
demonstration of this fundamental law of physics.
Having failed to plug the lead pipe of his trombone, he allowed the
energy of the blast to send a superheated jet of gas backwards through
the mouth pipe of the trombone, which exited the mouthpiece, burning
his lips and face. The pyrotechnic ballet wasn't over yet. The force
of the blast was so great it split the bell of his shiny Yamaha right
down the middle, turning it inside out while at the same time
propelling Paolo backwards off the riser. And for the grand finale, as
Paolo fell backwards he lost his grip on the slide of the trombone
allowing the pressure of the hot gases coursing through the horn to
propel the trombone's slide like a double golden spear into the head
of the 3rd clarinetist, knocking him unconscious and fracturing his
skull. I would think the moral of this story is, Beware the next time
you hear someone in the trombone section yell out, "Hey, y'all, watch
this!"