Contest Entries: Please post your entries in this thread.

Discussion in 'Horns' started by Tootsall, Jan 17, 2006.

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  1. Tootsall

    Tootsall Fortissimo User

    Oct 25, 2003
    Yee HAW!
    Please use this thread for posting your entries only. Questions, comments, etc. go elsewhere. Thank you.
  2. frank

    frank Piano User

    May 28, 2004
    Berlin, Germany

    There's nothing more permanent than a temporary solution... this means that my placeholder is my funny photo now!

    The story (according to Leigh's philosophy trumpets are female - that's also the case in my story):

    The old horn... (based on a true story that happened in real life in March 2006!)

    What's happening here? the old horn thought by itself. She'd been sitting on her three-leg stand for quite a while collecting dust. The owner hadn't played her for weeks, if not months. But why? Didn�t he play anymore? Far from that: The answer to these questions could be seen about 20 cm to the right - a shiny new trumpet.

    Since the arrival of the new one the old horn didn't have a chance and that was so sad. It didn't matter to her that the new one had got a brand new five-leg stand. She didnï't care about the comfortable gig bag (well there was enough space for two trumpets in it, but the additional space was occupied by all the mutes that this new one had taken away that once belonged to the old horn). She wasn't even bothered by the incredible warm and fat sound that the new one had. All she wanted was a fair chance! After all she'd been playing fine all these years (at least she was giving her best, as to the abilities of the owner - that was another story the old horn prefers to keep secret!) What really hurt her was the obvious contrast in the looks of the two. The new one had a 24 carat gold plating finish. Yes, and as if that were not enough it had this new fancy style: Most of the trumpet was in scratch finish and the inside of the bell, the mouthpiece receiver, the slides, the bracings, the fingerrings, thumb saddle and top part of the valve section were polished. This was really fascinating! Breathtaking! And what about me, nobody looks at me anymore, the old horn thought and sighed. She was another generation. Trendy scratch gold looks were unheard of in the 70s when she was born. Clear laquer and neat polishing were standard back then. At least I've my name engraved on my bell, but to be honest I like this receiver with the logo as well, she thought. Most of the time she felt ugly and unloved. Her exterior was just not attractive anymore: The laquer was gone in many places, a lot of scratches everywhere, abrasions from a hand-guard (it certainly wasn't a trumpet guard, for sure!), a dent in the bell bow and the worst part was a lot of red rot in the leadpipe and the tuning slide. Maybe I'm ugly, she thought, but play I did and my valves never stuck. NEVER! So the old horn was yearning for an overhaul. She couldn�t blame the owner, he'd been to a repair shop with her, but the repairman didn't appear to be very trustworthy. She heard him talk to an English guy sometime, but nothing happened. So the old horn was on the brink of a deep depression...

    But there was something unusual going on in the flat they were living. The owner didn't go to work as usual. And to the great surprise of the old trumpet, he put her in the gig bag together with the new beauty (this had never happened before!) and some strange stuff she'd never seen before in her life. There were two big glass bottles (this can't be valve oil, can it?) and a package of some soft material she couldn't identify (hmm, smelled like "bratwurst?ï", whatever..). The old horn had the strange feeling that there would be a change in her life!

    The old horn had made several journeys with the owner, but this time seemed to be different, it was a feeling she couldn't name, but it was definitely a positive, exciting feeling! The depression was gone, the old horn could feel the spirits revive. A great curiosity took possession of her. She'd give her leadpipe to get a hint where the journey would go. The owner took the light railway, but this time not to get a lift - they arrived at the airport! Whoah,I don't believe it!, the old horn wanted to shout out loud with pure excitement when she got a glimpse at the flight destination: London/Luton. For heavens sake! This is the place the new horn is from! And if I'm lucky the guy who made this cutie next to me I might as well give me a nice beauty treatment! But a heavy doubt came up: What if he wants to trade me in? And maybe get a flugel or cornet? ? So there was also the possibility to become a member of the spare part department of that trumpet maker. The old horn didn't really know what to think: I mean, after all these years he won't dare to dump me! He didn't give me much attention lately, but I know him good enough... nooo, he won't. She was torn between excitement and fear for her existence. What would this day bring? With all these thoughts in the bell she almost missed the moment the airplane accelerated and took off. Would also her existence be taken to higher planes? The suspense was almost unbearable.

    Meanwhile the jet had arrived at his destination and they were picked up by a short black-haired man named John. The old horn calmed down fast when she heard his voice. There was something reassuring in it. Just a feeling and the wish that all would work out well. In no time they arrived at the factory, located in a huge place named Brittannia Estate. There was a big hello when they entered the factory rooms on the first floor. Four men were working there in a very large room flooded with natural light. The owner was greeted in a very friendly way by the man he'd been talking to at the phone before on several occasions. This must be him, the legendary trumpet maker Leigh McKinney, she thought. So now my fate would be decided upon. There were several instruments being assembled on the benches and the old horn wanted so much to go there. But then a look at the celinig of the factory made her slides freeze: Suspended from the ceiling there were many old instruments which were only used as a spare part reservoir. Maybe the staff and the customers found it funny and decorative ... as to the old horn, it only scared the grease out of her!

    She suddenly got taken out of the gig bag and brought to a worker who without hesitation took the soldering torch and proceeded to take her apart. A warm and cozy feeling washed over the old horn. And when she was taken to another room to take a bath in a laquer-stripping liquid she sighed with contentment. The old yucky laquer made her brass tickle when it slowly went off. After all these ups and downs since this morning life seemed to take a wonderful turn. All these years in ugliness were forgotten in an instant and the old horn found herself daydreaming: How would she look like when she'd go back home. She'd seen trumpets with the most incredible finishes imaginable. Gold, silver, raw brass, scratched and different kinds of laquer, yes even rhodium plating seemed possible. The old horn didn't try to fight the fantasies that kept spinning in her bell. It was just too nice! She trusted Leigh that he would make her as beatiful as she could be. She'd overheard him telling her owner that she would look very sexy. The old horn blushed a bit which made her look like she was made of red brass instead of yellow and she was happy that she was alone and nobody could see her.

    In the morning she got woken up very suddenly when John fetched her out of the tank.Still a bit sleepy she realized that she'd completely lost any feeling for time and space in the laquer tank. It was a mild shock when she realized that she'd been in the tank for a whole week! The owner would fly back today! And I'm still just a heap of trumpet parts! Obviously the laquer she'd been wearing until then seemed to be very reluctant to go. But a week had done the work. What would happen next? Flying back with the owner seemed to be beyond all question! While the old horn was still wondering and getting herself acquainted with the possibility of staying longer in a place that had become familiar to her something happened to her that she wouldn't forget for the rest of her trumpet life!

    All of a sudden all the workers were busy working on her: Leigh, John, Peter and Carl. She was frightened in the first moment, but then she relished in the attention that she got ... except from the owner who was again in the testing room where he obviously got mesmerized by a copper bell flugelhorn. But the treatment the old horn was getting made her pretty much indifferent about that. Leigh took care of her bell, straightening it and taking out all the scratches. Then Carl took care of the bad dent in the bell bow that another trumpet repairer had labeled impossible to take out. Under the skilled hands of Carl the dent disappeared in no time. The worn places on the valve section disappeared with John's treatment. He even made a new leadpipe for her! Everybody was busy, the hands were flying and the departure in the evening didn't seem impossible anymore. And finally when all the wound that time had inflicted on the old horn were healed the best part came! The old horn was so glad to have won back her old beauty that she didn't really care about the finish anymore. She was so happy that she thought that any finish would just do fine for her! But she finally resonated with sheer excitement when Carl took an abrasive belt in his hands. Scratch laquer!she realized suddenly. I can't believe it! And she watched with great joy as the bell and parts of the valve casing and the slides got scratched. When John finally took her to the laquering room to put a new shiny, glossy layer of laquer on her rejuvenated brass she felt like in heaven. Meanwhile the owner and Leigh had come back from lunch and the old horn was really proud and satisfied when the owner stared at her in disbelief. Yeah, look at me! Now I'm not the ugly old horn anymore! the old horn thought. He took her in his hands to look at her from every side and was at least as amazed and happy as the old horn. Thus a story that began with a sad old horn caught in depression found a happy end. A happy owner and an even happier old-horn-turned-new flew back home. I wanted a fair chance, the old horn said to herself, and I got it! I'm not ugly anymore and I feel like myself again. I'm now a more than adequate backup horn for the scratch gold beauty who could ask for anything more?

    Why I should win? This is always the hardest part. Trumpet players are a strange breed... They are always thinking about one thing. Trumpets. It doesn't matter in the least how many good trumpets they have got. Once they got them they just can't stop daydreaming! A new horn is a constant challenge for their peace of mind: Yeah, I'll sound even better on this or that horn. Maybe... And that's exactly the reason why I should win! ;-)

    (Note: there is something strange about these little apostrophes! Sorry about that!)
  3. northerntrumpeter

    northerntrumpeter Pianissimo User

    Jan 16, 2006
    Manchester, UK
    Oh dear. Too many options! I'm gonna have a go though, even though I don't know what's up for grabs! It looks like previous years have been a good laugh! :D

    1. THE FUNNY PHOTO I can think of a few ideas for this. Just need to fix my camera! ;-)

    2. THE STORY I've got writers block...permanently! :think:

    3. BACK TO SCHOOL I hated school, but this looks like fun. :wave:

    ADDED 23/01/06 23.00hrs

    A brass player known as 'THE HORN'
    Had played trumpet since first being born
    His chops were so strong
    He could play all day long
    That is, until one fateful morn.

    His lip was in perfect condition
    He was ready to take up his mission
    A prize was at stake
    Two grand, give or take
    To win was THE HORN’S great ambition

    The contest was held in the town
    With players of highest renown
    THE HORN came in third
    To some lad and a ‘bird’
    THE HORN just could not live it down

    Second was some lad on trombone
    He could only afford it on loan
    The ‘bone that he used
    Had a slide that was fused
    How he played it remains to be known

    In first was a girl on a bugle
    She bought it by searching through google
    She played it so nice
    Judges didn’t think twice
    The money bought a gold plated flugel

    THE HORN was so miffed not to win
    He threw his horn out in the bin
    But what could he do?
    Horn was all that he knew
    To stop would be almost a sin

    THE HORN made his own custom cornet
    With glue and a Bentley exhaust kit
    Then he heard an ECLIPSE
    Put his hands on his hips
    And said “Not bad, I have to admitâ€

    See my previous efforts (If you REALLY feel the need!)

    5. MANDATORY : All entrants must give us a brief reason why they feel that they should win this contest.

    I should win this contest for a number of reasons...but I can't think what they are yet! :?: I might wait until I know more about the prize. :oops:
  4. MrClean

    MrClean Piano User

    Oct 22, 2005
    OK - I'll stick my toe in and give it a shot for grins...


    #2 The Story

    This is a story I wrote for one of my annual Christmas newsletters, in which we let all of our friends laugh at the year’s misfortunes.

    The Trouble with Hurricanes…

    Mom Wilt made an unexpected trip to visit us this summer when Hurricane George got a little too close for comfort to Tarpon Springs, Florida. When it appeared that George was going to slam directly into that part of the state, we called mom and informed her she would be boarding a plane to see us. Less than 8 hours later, we were picking her up at Bush Intercontinental airport. This afforded mom Wilt a rare opportunity to visit Colin and Liam and the dogs, and to enjoy the summer weather for which Houston is famous.

    Perhaps the highlight of the trip, however, was when we decided to take mom out and treat her to dinner and a movie. This summer was a little slow movie-wise, but after scanning various critics’ reviews, we decided on a film titled “The Chambermaidâ€. For those of you who have not seen the film, it is a charming, clever, beautifully filmed movie. It is also in French with English subtitles. Perhaps this is a good point in the story to explain to the uneducated (no offense) that my mom suffers from an affliction known as Macular Degenerative disease, which is a condition that impairs vision wherein only peripheral vision is possible, and that is limited at best. In short, she is virtually blind for all intents and purposes.

    So here we are, sitting in the theater when the title and opening credits start rolling. In French. At this point, Allison and I look at each other, panic stricken, while mom wistfully enjoys the accompanying musical score, completely oblivious to the text on the screen. However, once the dialogue starts, she gets what can best be described as a “vacant†look, turns to me and says in a “I’m-in-my-own-living-room-and-watching-my-own-television†level voice, “you took your blind mother to a foreign movie with sub-titles?†So throughout the movie, I acted as translator. But it gets better…

    If you have seen the movie, you understand when we describe it as a virtual soft-core porn flick, only it is in French, so that makes it an art film. It is also important to note here that my mother has no problem making out large images on a movie screen, so she had absolutely zero difficulty processing the visual element of this film. Meanwhile, I had to try to explain the plot while reading the subtitles and simultaneously deciding what to relay and what to censor. There are certain things a mother should never hear from her son’s lips. While this is happening, Allison is on my other side convulsing with laughter, doing everything possible to prevent a bout of bladder incontinence. Bear in mind that this movie is not exactly a comedy, and the people around us are getting nervous…

    Regardless to say, we were hysterical all the way back to the car, all the way home, and on the phone to as many relatives as we could call that night. I just hope it doesn’t adversely affect our inheritance.

    #4 Why I should win:

    a). The bird needs a new perch;

    b). This instrument will get a lot of exposure in Los Angeles, both with the Philharmonic players and the studio players;

    c). Did I mention that the bird needs a new perch?

    Best of luck with the contest, folks. Your horns look beautiful, and I have heard wonderful things about them.
  5. BradHarrison

    BradHarrison Pianissimo User

    Oct 31, 2005
    Toronto, Canada
    I am amused. :lol:

    ...and also reserving my spot for my entry. I can't wait to get started on my model! I'm going to finish the idea I had last year.
  6. someone

    someone Pianissimo User

    Jan 7, 2006
    Warning: The following image may not be suitable for all audiences.
    Funny Photo - A Trumpet Repairman's Worst Nightmare
    More Pics: Room/
    About it: I bought each of these two trumpets for $10 each. The previous owner sold them to me for cheap because his store had undergone a fire. As a result, the valve caps were stuck on, one of the valves was stuck, the bracings were loose, the trumpets were covered in unremovable burnt ash, and were dented. I could actually play one of them. However, when I inserted my mouthpiece into the second one it got stuck, and when I managed to pull it out, it left a permanent impression upon my mouthpiece :(. After receiving the horns, I had to bang them up a little, so the picture would look better with the bandages. Afterwords, I didn't feel so well and I hope I never have to destroy a trumpet again. I used ketchup for blood and got out the first aid kit and dressed their wounds. I took the picture, and then rinsed the ketch-up off of them in my bathtub. They now sit in my room, waiting for something else to come up where I need them. Overall, it was pretty fun taking the picture.

    Back to School - A Student's Horn
    Note: The image is resized to fit in the entry box and appears squished. Please click on it to view it full scale.
    More Photos:
    About it: This is really different from my original idea. After somebody posted the paper horn, I knew I couldn't cover my model trumpet with various school papers. The valves are made out of pencils and keyboard keys. The slides are made out of modeling clay and pens/pencils. I used part of a 2-liter bottle for the bell, and covered it with post it notes as it was too plain. It's fairly sturdy. When I was taking the pictures, one of the slides fell out. However, I glued it back on and it hasn't broken since. I thought it turned out fairly well, better than I expected it to be (I wish I could say the same about my photo). In the picture the orange highlighter was loose and slightly bent, but I've fixed it since. I had a really good time making this.

    Why I Should Win the Contest - I worked really hard on my entry this year and had a great time making it! A lead horn would be a great benefit to me; next year I'm hoping to replace the lead trumpet player (who's going to college) at my high school. I currently own a getzen 700 eterna, and while it's a nice horn, it's not really a pro horn. I bought my getzen trumpet three years ago, and I honestly believe I've outgrown it, and that a pro horn would be a great encouragement to my playing. I still don't know what I want to do with my life; my life has been greatly impacted by my trumpet playing and love of music, and while I am certainly not the best player on this board, and while others might be in more need of a great horn like this, I would appreciate the horn as much as all the other players on this board would.

    Thanks for running this contest, I had a blast creating my entries, and had a very good time in the chatroom talking with all of you.
  7. kitjacoby

    kitjacoby New Friend

    Jan 5, 2006
    Cornwall, England
    Well, seeing as how people are reserving their spots....Anyway, what's wrong with Page 3? Some of the most intellegent, upstanding members of the British community can be found offering witty, topical little thought's for the day on Page 3.

    Sorry, just give me a second to remove my tongue from my cheek.....

    Here goes.....

    Right, first and foremost, THE STORY!!!! The idea for this is something I wrote for my GCSE coursework about 6/7 years ago (it was much better written back then, but sadly I have chucked out the original essay, and all that remained was the idea).

    It was another glorious day.

    In their semi-private room, Martin and Tom lay in their beds, warm light falling from the window onto Tom’s bed, which was beneath it. Little was said between the two men. Both their minds were focused on the inevitable. Death. There’s not much else to think about, in a hospice.

    Both men had several months left to live, but had been forced into the home by circumstance: Tom because he didn’t want to be a burden to his beautiful, devoted wife, Martin because he had no-where else to go.

    The two men had been together in that room now for over a fortnight, and had developed a little ritual, all of their own. Martin would lie back and listen as Tom described the scene from the window. Children playing on the grass below. A flock of proud new mothers, clucking like hens, taking their baby’s out into the open for the first time.

    There was a time when Martin used to enjoy the pictures. He would use them to fill the emptiness he felt when Tom’s wife came to visit. They kept him company at night, gave him an escape when the nurse would come to give him his bed-bath or remove his bedpan.

    But now, Martin had come to hate them. Day after day he would listen to Tom, prattling on in his bumptious, middle-class accent about this and that as though it really mattered. I mean, they were dying, for Christ’s sake. Didn’t Tom get that? Dying. And all Tom could say was how happy the damn children looked, playing on the swings.

    But that didn’t matter anymore, because Martin had a plan.

    The rest of the day passed uneventfully. The priest did his rounds, inspiring peace in the believers and cynicism in the rest. The usual overcooked chicken was produced and eaten. The light faded. The ward slept.

    He couldn’t risk waking the nurses. Summoning all his strength, Martin crossed the three feet to Tom's bed and looked down on his victim. No one would know. This was a hospice. The one thing you could guarantee was that people would die. The smallest sliver of light fell from the window, and fell across Tom’s neck, like a guide-line. Tom didn’t make a sound as Martin pressed the pillow over his face. He didn’t even have the strength to struggle.

    When Martin woke the next day, it was to find the neighbouring bed empty, made with clinical precision.

    He told the nurses he was feeling a little stronger today. He asked to be pushed over to the window.

    He was surprised to see nothing but a vacant lot, strewn with litter.

    It was another glorious day.

    Next up, here comes THE LIMERICK!!! On the basis that all limericks should be rude (I guess you could call them the trumpet players of poetry)…

    At the ITG summit in Rome,
    Mr Langley was told to go home.
    He’d thrown down his horn,
    (Just missing Jay Zorn),
    And bu99ered a cat with a gnome.

    The cat's @rse was rodgered red-raw,
    In fact, it was pretty [email protected] sore,
    He let out a wail,
    His claws they did flail,
    And caught Sandoval* on the jaw.

    The section was in disarray,
    All far too upset to say,
    That the point of this verse,
    If it doesn't seem terse,
    Is to just damn well shut up and play!!!

    *Or 'Bergeron', whoever you prefur! :-P

    And finally, WHY SHOULD I WIN???

    Well, to be honest, I’m sure there are hundreds of people with more deserving reasons to win, but its compulsory (curse you, McKinney!!!) so here it is. I am a trumpet student coming to the end of his University life. In a few short months, I will be out in the big, wide world hoping to make a career out of playing the instrument that has brought us all together. Regardless of what the prize is, it would just be über-cool to own a piece of Eclipse history, as well as maybe helping me off on that career with [shameless ass-kissing] THE BEST HORN EVER MADE!!!! [/shameless ass-kissing]

    Good luck, everyone!!! :D
  8. mrfabulous963

    mrfabulous963 Piano User

    Nov 26, 2005

    The Funny Photo- Soon To Be Posted
    Entitled: The Best Trumpet A High School Kid Ever Had

    The Story- It's A Story All Right, and completely true

    I kind of don't think I deserve it. There is probably someone that needs it more. But I Do want to win. As a high school student, money is short, so i play on a Mid-range Getzen horn, the Bach I have is beat to crap, i got it from a friend when he quit. The Cornet was my grandfathers being restored. My biggest problem is, in order to get into my top band at my H.S. I need a pro model horn, and my Getzen or Bach(due to it's condit.) will not qualify. An Eclipse will certainlly fix that!
  9. Annie

    Annie Piano User

    Nov 13, 2003
    3. Back to School!

    My Model Trumpet made out of Chocolate Cake & Toothpicks!


    A delicious way to enjoy music!

    4. Poem

    I play the music
    From my soul
    Without my horn
    All is droll

    5. Why should I win?

    My horn is decently dependable. It's a Bach 37 from the 1970's, and I bought it used after saving up in eleventh grade for six straight months. There are a few notes on it that never play in tune unless I lip them, but it can help me produce a good tone.

    It would be nice to have a horn that I know I'll treasure forever and that can truly bring my sound to life - part of your sound is your equipment, after all. And that the slotting would be good - oh, to have a horn that slots well and whose tuning is good!

    Anyways, I'm sure that there are many others that are more deserving though. I hope you enjoyed my entry!
  10. Martin Williams

    Martin Williams Mezzo Piano User

    Apr 29, 2005
    Columbus, Oh-hi-uh
    This is My spot in the show
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