We went shopping, and then we ended up at the G-man for lunch. The G-man was all done up for Mardi Gras, and there was stereotypical New Orleans jazz playing.
The little one seemed to really like the music, especially the trombones.
Long Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I used to play the trombone. People even started calling me ‘Bone.’ Despite my protests, the name stuck. After I was assimilated by the borg collective, my designation was technically “Bonius of Borg: quaternary adjunt of unamatrix 1000101″ but most people still call me Bone.
Anyways, after our visitors left, I decided I would bust out one of my old horns and see what it sounded like. Out of consideration for the neighbors, I went down to Market St. Music to pick up a mute. I stopped playing the horn in 1992, so I wasn’t expecting much.
After about a half hour of noise making, scaring the cats, and inhaling moldy brass fumes, I discovered that I seem to have lost about an octave of range, and can no longer read sheet music. My embouchure is entirely atrophied. Nevertheless, I was able to play a B flat and an E flat scale, and even a couple of tunes that I must have memorized in High School Marching band.
Overall, I suck. Bad. But I didn’t suck as much as I expected. Maybe I’ll try to pick up the horn a bit more often.
It’s wierd to think that I have been carrying that music around in my head for the past 14 years without knowing it.
For inspiration, I went down to a local music store (which shall remain nameless) to pick up some jazz CDs. You always know you are in the right place for jazz when a roiling cloud of pot smoke rolls out of the back room whenever someone opens the door.
Now that there seems to be some progress on JoKosher, it should be possible to record with a proper linux app. Maybe I’ll get a mic and play “Row, Row, Row your boat” and post it up for public ridicule.