A MUSICIANS REFLECTIONS ON A LIFETIME OF REACTING TO THE CALL OF BUGLES

Is it the call I'm seeking!

"Blow, bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying,"  Thus wrote Alfred, Lord Tennyson. "Blow it, don't suck the bleeding thing!" the Sar'nt Major politely suggested to the scruffy duty bugler. Merely two different approaches to the same problem, of sending a message by precise musical code. And of course Tennyson had a point, for nothing can be more poetic and evocative than the "sweet sounds of the bugle".

  Its wistful tones echoing across some foreign field, or sounding a threnody for a departed hero, can tear at the heart strings of even the toughest old sodger. Blasted out at dawn on a freezing day it is, or was, the intolerable sadistic servant of Sar'nt majors down the ages.

  I say "or was" because much less is heard of the bugle's sweet sounds these days. Just dial a few numbers and you can, in a trice, summon the pioneer sergeant or rustle up a few fatigue men without aid of music; turn a few knobs or press a few buttons and you can send a complete armoured division to Kingdom come. Along with the cavalry trumpet the bugle is becoming inefficient, it is almost inaudible against - the roar of traffic, jet aeroplanes and, in battle, the cacophony of modern fire-power.

  'Twas not always so. Trumpeters, fifers, drummers, and later buglers were vital in conveying orders to the troops, but not until the l8th century did those precise codes develop. In the l6th and l7th centuries drummers, fifers and trumpeters used signals comprising pre-arranged tunes, only later to evolve into formal calls recognizable by all and sundry , whether of Colonel Skinner's Light Horse or the North Surrey Fusiliers.

  And very important persons these musicians were, living a life a cut above that of the ordinary soldier. But you see the problem posed by those precise musical codes, I'm sure. If Trooper George cannot distinguish between Rule Britannia and I've Got a Luverly Bunch of Coconuts (or as we say in the trade, has an ear like a boot) then he's in trouble.

  Worse still if Sgt Wellington can't tell "Orderly Sergeants" from "Water Your Horses". And so on up the rank structure until the mind boggles at what Maj Gen Hushpuppy would make of Halt, Lie Down. Another Balaclava at least .

  It is so much simpler to recognise a call if given the words associated with it, or the words if given the music. At first each soldier fitted his own personal doggerel words or rhyme to help him identify a call. Later, as with the tunes, the words gradually came to general use throughout the Army. By about the early 18th century all except soldiers with a musical ear recognised a call only after the rhythm of the tune suggested the correct pre-selected words. "Di-dah di-dah" equals "Get-out-of- bed". "Dah-di-dah-di da-di daah" sung quickly is "Sergeant Major's got the Horn" (The Alarm).

  But you see a further problem, I'm sure. If Guardsman Birdbrain is not only tone-deaf but word-deaf into the bargain, then he's got a problem.

  Military history is full of heroic one-man attacks on heavily defended positions, of gallant advances in the face of massive artillery fire, last-ditch stands against all the odds, not to mention abortive cavalry charges. One wonders, just wonders, how many of these brave deeds were accountable to tone or word deafness, mistaking a "di" for a "dah", and therefore the Charge for Officers' Dinner. Some calls are so alike that in the heat of battle many a boob must have been made.

  Even peacetime has it's hazards. Buglers in particular have always been the battalion characters, and artful dodgers were common even in the so-called harsh discipline days of the 1920's and 1930's.

  Buglers of poor technique, to avoid the punishment of an extra guard duty, would stand at-the-ready on the barrack square, puffing and blowing in tortured mime while a friend blew sweet sounds of Defaulters from a nearby vehicle or handy doorway. Ventriloquists could expect worse than extra duty if caught.

  In the old Victoria Barracks, Belfast, the Chapel porch gave onto the barrack square. In the pouring rain it was known for buglers to sound after-dark calls from this porch, and usually get away with it. Bugler Biggs didn't. The Padre, who must have been at his devotions, emerged suddenly to investigate the trespass, ramming the mouth- piece and half the bugle well past the culprit's tonsils. Never did the Last Post, with its final sighing cadence, die on such a wail and a whimper.

  The oh-so-superior trumpeters of the regimental band would often, when conditions were safe, wait for the duty trumpeter to inhale his initial deep breath prior to sounding a call then, from a window, chip in with the appropriate tune decorated with cracked notes, belches and blasts. The Trumpeter meanwhile, committed by his exposed position to endure the treachery to the bitter end , wilted visibly in anticipation of the wrath to come .

  Then there was Bugler Forster of the 6Oth Rifles, a regiment renowned for its high standard of bugling. Forster could make his bugle talk. It was an extension of his own inner feelings and passion, an elongation of his lungs, throat, tongue and lips. Part of him.

  His Reveille was a soothing and abject apology for any inconvenience he was causing; Defaulters were flayed alive with bitter blast; Orderly Sergeants wooed with fawning obsequiousness; Band Call reeked of snide derision, and Mess Call was delivered with the pitying sadism of one who had eaten the stuff . But it was in the great classic calls of the British Army -Retreat, First Post, and Last Post - that Forster gave his all. Each was a Wagnerian music-drama with grand prelude leading to spectacular scenes and interludes of almighty power, mystery and heroism; from here to Valhalla and back, with no sobs spared until the last sighing whisper of a note faded into the twilight of the gods.

  There was snag, Forster's stammer of speech carried over into his bugling. Before he could ever begin a call he had to rely on a friend or casual passer-by to give him a one-two-three countdown. Buglers were not noted for their innate musicality so it was years before we twigged that if the words of a call began with a difficult letter like B, P or S, he would likewise stutter on his opening note. Rouse caused him agonies of impotence with its: "GGGGGGet out of bbed, get out of bbed, you lazy bbbbastards, ggget out of bbbed."

  Casual passers-by were thin on the ground at that time of day, poor lad. There were no passers-by, nor bugler present to do for him as he had done so beautifully for others, when we buried him near the outer perimeter of the Calais defences in May 1940. Surprisingly the words of calls which have come down to us are almost childishly innocuous, with little or no foul language used. Fowl yes, for "You've got a face like a chicken's arse" is perfect verbal representation of Quarter Call. Others to survive the centuries, differing sometimes to allow for regimental traditions, are;

Cookhouse- Come to the cookhouse door boys, come to the cook-house door.

Mess Call - Oh pick 'em up pick 'em up hot potatoes, hot potatoes, pick 'em up pick 'em up hot potatoes oh.

Piquet- Come and do a piquet boys, come and do a guard, be on time or else boys, it's seven days hard.

Fatigues - I called him, I called him, he wouldn't come I called him, the dirty sod's in bed with China Nell.

Sick Call - Sixty-four Ninety-four he won't never go sick no more, the poor blighter's dead.

Officers - Officers come to HQ, Officers come to HQ, do, do, do.

Officers' Dinner - The officers' wives get pudden an' pie, the soldiers' wives get skilly.

  Fifty years on and we love them all. It will be a sad day if the calls of trumpet and bugle have no place in our Army's future. The telephone and radio have so far failed wholly to dislodge them from favour, but what when every soldier is in touch with every other soldier by a television set strapped to his wrist? Will it then be a case of:

Trumpeter, what are you sounding now?

(Is it the call I'm seeking?)

Lucky for you if you hear it at all

For my trumpet's but faintly speaking.

  A cavalry officer, one J Francis Barron, wrote the words of that famous ballad in the days when soldiers lived, and died, to the sound of trumpet and bugle, the old calls having come down to them "by word of ear; they were not committed to paper until well into the 19th century.

  In spite of, or perhaps because of, his instinctive dread and mistrust of the bugle call. the old sodger never forgets, and recalls them, near his end, with a surprised and somewhat shamefaced nostalgia.

  Accursed Reveille, bloody Defaulters, Cookhouse (more swill) , Orderly Room (Oh God), Orderly Sergeants (What does Sar'nt Major want now?) , Mess Call (yet more swill) , Post Call (letters from Lousy Lou boys, letters from Lousy Lou) ,Retreat (Stand still you oafs), Last Post (Go and whitewash it boy), Lights Out (just as you reach the all-is-revealed page of an Agatha Christie).

  Little episodes in a soldier's life. Memories of long ago when the trumpet and bugle plagued us from dawn until dusk and later; when the regimental call and whatever followed it presaged no good at all for most of us.

  Get up, fall in, fallout, jankers, fall in, fallout, advance, retire, stand up, lie down, prepare for bed, go to bed, and turn those bleeding lights out. . .

  Dear dead days beyond recall. But perhaps things have changed a little, eased off , and refuge is now possible from the scourge and tyranny of the omnipotent bugle. I believe so, yet die in the saddle and there is still no option even for the dear departed.

  Cpl Bootear will rest in peace by order of the Ministry. Bang, Bang, Bang, and a brazen lament to see you on your way. No escape unless you specify in your last will and testament "no bugling by request" .

  As an oh-so-superior bandsman myself I must remember to drop a line to my solicitors. The feu-de-douleurwill not apply to this old sodger but, please sirs, no bugling at my crossing of the bar,

  And yet. And yet. Ah well, damn it, why not? It will be the one clear call in half a century of service the one sounding of which will require me to do absolutely nothing.

  So sound off old pal, sound off,

Blow bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying,

Bugle blow,

Answer echoes, answer: Dying. . . dying.

Acknowledgement goes to Colonel Rodney Bashford (ex-60th bandsman)

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NOTES ON SOME MILITARY CALLS

By Captain C. R. Day - Oxfordshire & Buckinghamshire Light Infantry

The use of musical instruments as a means of conveying Orders for military purposes, seems to date from very remote times. Probably they were first employed only as an incentive to the courage or the warlike feelings of those who heard them – or possibly to instil terror into the hearts of the enemy. But as time elapsed certain instruments, or even sounds, came to be employed during special movements, or before particular phases of the fight; and so their use gradually began to be constructed by the hearers as an equivalent for viva voce orders. In remote times, it is probable that the Jews made a similar use of trumpets and horns. Jewish historians have handed down traditional names of these instruments, and the Rabbis even at the present day cause the shophar, a curved ram’s horn trumpet, to sound certain traditional Calls in the Synagogue.

The shophar is the instrument mentioned in various parts of the Old Testament, and is to be distinguished, as a means of conveying signals, from the khatsotsrah, which was a straight trumpet, used for ceremonial purposes, and called also keren. It is somewhat unfortunate that these words should both have been translated alike by “trumpet” in our version of the bible. That the Greek and Roman armies made use of calls is very certain, not only for military but even for naval purposes. Xenophon, the historian, describes how the attack was sounded thus on board the Athenian fleet: the same writer mentions the use of the trumpet during the retreat of the Ten Thousand under Clearchus, which as a military achievement, would be considered wonderful even at the present day.

That regular Calls conveying commands, each distinct and easily to be recognised by the hearers, were employed, appears also to be certain; there are even stories of how an enemy was deceived by the device of a wrong Call having been sounded. Foremost amongst these is the account of how Pericles, the General commanding the Athenian forces at the siege of some seaport town, caused a few trumpeters to sound the attack from the wrong quarter. The besieged believing then that a surprise was imminent, hurriedly made a sortie from another gate, and thus allowed Pericles to take possession with ease. A somewhat similar story is to of Alcibiades.

It is, however, in the Roman army that the use of military Calls really developed. In the time of Julius Caesar, which we may assume to be the period at which the Roman army was at its best, there were three instruments commonly employed: they were the lituus, the tuba and the buccina or cornu. Of these the former was in use in the mounted services, the two latter in the infantry: the tuba, or straight trumpet, being for ceremonial purposes, while the buccina or cornu was employed for manoeuvring.

The cavalry trumpet – the lituus – varied in length, ranging from 2 feet 6 inches to as much as 4 feet 6 inches. In form it was straight as far as the bell, which was turned upwards, somewhat like a bowl of a tobacco pipe in fact.

The tuba (Ophicleide) was perfectly straight, and the buccina or cornu, which was curved, tapered very gradually and had a long conical bore. When is use the buccina encircled the player’s body, the bell resting on his shoulder; a modern circular bass is held in a somewhat similar manner.

It is probable that the cornu, as it name implies, was first made from a cow’s horn, the form being subsequently copied in metal, and altered from time to time until it took the shape described.

Various specimens of these instruments in good preservation have been discovered, and from their construction were all evidently well capable of sounding calls. The mouthpieces were carefully made and resembled those of the modern trumpet, the cup was shallow, the rim flattish, and the orifice small: the mouthpieces were usually of metal and not detachable.

Sometimes a stay from the spring of the bell to a point below the mouthpiece strengthened the buccina. There are two cornus now in the British Museum, and, in 1890, at the Royal Military Exhibition, there was to be seen a replica of a larger one found near Naples. From military writers under the Roman Empire we learn that each regiment had its complement of trumpeters, and some of the Calls in common use are described. The historian Ploybius (B.C. 204), who, though a Greek, held a cavalry command in the Roman service, informs us that Reveille was sounded, also that there was a Call for Guard-mounting. Probably the employment of Calls for manoeuvring troops in the field was considerably extended during the centuries following, for Pollux, writing in the 2nd century of our era, mentions that the trumpet was either straight or curved, and that it was invented by the Tyrrhenians, and was made with a bone mouthpiece.

There was also an officer called buccinator principalis whose duties were probably somewhat similar to those of our Bugle Major. Pollux speaks also of Calls for the halt, the advance, and retire, also for encouraging the troops during the fight, and of a special sound for ceremonial or during sacrifices. Vegetius, who wrote a work entitled An Epitome of Military Institutions in the time of the Emperor Valentinian, about 390 A.D., gives more detailed accounts of the same nature. We learn that there were then Calls for the attack, or advance, for the halt, and for the retire.

The classicum was another Call, only sounded when the General was present, or at some high ceremonial parade, or when a soldier was publicly punished. Other calls were doubtless employed, the uses of which are only hinted at. That the Roman trumpeters sounded their Calls with a particular style of their own – just as buglers of English regiments do at the present time – is also certain. Livy tells us how Hannibal the Carthagenian commander, tried to get possession of the town of Tarentum trumpeters to deceive the Roman troops by sounding a Roman Call, but as the style in which this Call was sounded was different, the Roman troops knew immediately that it was not sounded by one of their own trumpeters, and were consequently not deceived by it.

It is somewhat curious to note that the drum does not seem to have been used in the Roman armies for signalling purposes, but only as an adjunct either to increase the noise of battle, or for ceremonial purposes. The use of drums was adopted after Eastern conquests and during the decadence of the Roman Empire.

Passing to more modern times, perhaps the earliest evidence of the use of the trumpet in action is in the 13th century, when the French charge at was sounded at the battle of Bouvignes in 1215. From about this time trumpet-calls appear to have been used pretty generally throughout Europe. The earliest Calls in notation which we know of are contained in Jannequin’s La Bataille, published in Antwerp in 1545, and Pere Mersenne, who wrote in 1635 (Harmonie Universelle, Paris), also gives some most interesting Calls in notation. These calls are of course those in use at the time in the French cavalry. Mersenne gives eleven in all.

But the drum as well was evidently used in the French service, for the Seigneur de Courbouson, writing in 1610 (La Milice Francoise), advocates the use of a drum by each company, and remarks that the French drumming is superior to any other. The use of the drum for signalling purposes appears to have been originally adopted in Italy, for Machiavelli in his Art of War (written for Lorenzo de Medici in 1521) states very definitely that the drum was used to make the orders of the officer commanding known to the troops. Probably other European nations adopted this use of the drum from the Italians.

It is probable that in England also the drum was used in the infantry, and the trumpet in the cavalry; for in the Rules and Ordynances for the Warre, published for the French Campaign of 1544, we find some references to trumpet-calls: -

“After the watche shall be set, unto the tyme is be discharged in the mornynge, no manner of man make any shouting or blowing of hornes or whisteling or great noyse but if it be trumpettes by a special Commaundement. Every horseman at the fyrst blaste of the trumpette shall sadle or cause to be sadled his horse, at the seconde to brydell, at the third to leape on his horse backe, to wait on the King or his lorde or Capitayne.”

In A Complete System of Camp Discipline (2nd edition, London, 1757) mention is made of a regulation for garrison duty in 1694, in which certain Calls, i.e. Reveille, Assembly, &c., are beaten by the drummers, and there is a list of the meanings of different drum signals in 1748, then disused. In the many military works published during the 16th century we find either descriptions of, or allusions to, various Calls in use. In Markham’s Five Decades of Epistles of Warre (London, 1622) the Drum Calls are thus described:-

“First in the morning the discharge or breaking up of the watch, then a preparation or summons to make repair to their columns; then a beating away before they begin to march; then a march according to the nature and custom of the country (for it divers countries they have divers marches) then, a charge, then a retrait, then a troupe, and lastly a bataillion or battery, besides other sounds.”

Speaking of trumpet calls, the same writer says:- “The first point of warre is Butte sella, calp on your saddles; Mounte Cavallo, mount on horse backed; Tacquet, march; Carga Carga, an alarme to charge; a la standardo, a retrait or retire to your columns; Auquet, to the watch or a discharge for the watch, besides other points as Proclamation, Calls, Summons, all which are most necessary for every souldier both to know and obey.” Elton who wrote in 1650 (Complete Body of the Art Military), goes a little more into detail, and thus describes the duties of a private soldier:-

“He must inform himself of all the several beats of the drum, as first of a Call, second a troup third a march, fourth a preparative, fifth a battle or charge, sixth a retreat, and also of the Revally and the Tattoo.

By the first he is summoned to hear present proclamation, or else commanded to repair to his colours. Upon the beat of the second he is to advance his armes, and to close rank in rank and file to the distance of order, and to troup along unto such places and services, as he shall be commanded unto.

Upon the hearing of the third he is presently to shoulder his armes and to take his distance of six foot in rank, or three foot in file; upon the fourth he is to close both in rank and file unto the fighting distance, which is called order, and to press on himself for skirmish.

Upon the beat of the next, he is undauntedly to move forward, steping in good order into the place of his fellow souldier that shall happen to fall down dead before him. Upon the beat of the last he must orderly fall back either for reliefe, or advantage of ground, or other polliticall endes whereby he may draw the enemy into a snare. The first of the remaining two gives warning in the morning for some of the sentinells to fall off, or to be taken in; the latter is used in the night to give notice unto the souldiers or others for then repairing to their severall guards, watches, and lodgings.”

During the last century considerable changes were made in the English army owing to foreign influence and association with foreign allies, and there are several orders dating from the times of the Georges, relative to the duties of drummers. By the order of George II in 1743, “all horse and dragoon grand guards are to sound trumpets and beat drums, at marching from the parade and relieving.” When Light Companies were first formed in infantry regiments, they, in common with the rest of the army, used drums, and it was not until about 1790 that they adopted the bugle, the first official mention of which occurs in the Rules and Regulations for the Formations, Field Exercise, and Movements of His Majesty’s Forces, June, 1792.

The bugle in its original form was curved, and in shape exactly like that in the regimental badge.

This curved horn, made in metal, was doubtless in general use as early as the 13th century. There are specimens of horns of this date in the possession of the Corporation of Dover and Canterbury; they were called Burgmote horns and were used for military purposes. The “horn” in course of time for portability came to be constructed with a bend like the trumpet, and the bugle in this form remained in use until about 1840, when one with two turns, known as Captain Bridge’s bugle, made its appearance and was, after the Crimean war, definitely adopted. The earliest bugles were in C, and the Bb instruments were not adopted until comparatively recently.

Probably when the bugle was first used for military purposes, each regiment had its own separate Class, which were arranged according to the fancy of the commanding officer. These Calls were probably borrowed from Continental armies and modified to suit the regiments of our own service.

The first official collection of trumpet and bugle sounds was issued in December 1798, and by an order dated November 1804, these sounds were adopted throughout the army. A work, now vary scarce, entitled The Bugle Horn Major’s Companion, published in 1815, gives the regulation signals with barrack, field, and other useful sounds for the “movements of light infantry and rifle regiments.”

A comparison of this work (and of subsequent English collections of bugle sounds) with Calls used in the army of Piedmont early this century, leads one to suppose that most of our Calls were taken from the Italians, whose light infantry or Bersaglieri have from time immemorial been famous. The Bugle Horn Major’s Companion gives a good many Calls, such as the Rouse, Reveille, Dress, Assembly, Drill, Officer’s Call, Serjeant’s Call, Bugler’s Call, Setting of the Watch, 2nd Post, &c., which are identical with those now in use. The Call still used in our 1st Battalion for Left markers is founs (being called Formed Company), also the Calls for Advance, Flank, and Rear Guards.

The Reinforce now used by us is almost identical with the Detach Skirmishers; and the Extend, Incline, Advance, Retire, Close, Quick, and double, are as now used. Each company had a separate Call, but these consisted of but single or at most two notes.

“On the Detach Skirmishers being sounded the party ordered for that service marches out the specified number of paces, and forms in skirmish order. On the Skirmisher’s may Engage being sounded by the commanding officer’s bugler, the bugler with the skirmishers then sounds to commence firing, if necessary. The same to be observed in the formation of the Chain. To fire in extended order on the spot. So soon as the fire has sounded, the rear rank men take a side step of 10 inches to the right, and both ranks fire alternatively in this position, commencing with the front rank, each making ready when he hears the ramrods of the rank which has fired, working.”

From the detail given, when the Incline was sounded, the men apparently made a whole turn, instead of a half turn, as is now the case. The modern Wheel was called Right Shoulder Forward.

“At the signal to commence fire, immediately followed by the signal to retreat, the front rank fires, goes to the right about, marches in double time 24 paces to the rear of the rear rank, fronts and loads: the rear rank hearing the ramrods of the front rank working, makes ready, fires, then faces to the right about, marches in double time 24 paces, and the rear of the front rank ranks parts and loads, in this manner both ranks retire supporting each other.”

There were also Calls Interrogative, Negative, Affirmative, also Calls for signalling as to what the enemy consisted of, their movements, and even formation. By such means a sort of conversation could be carried on by means of buglers.

Curiously enough there is no mention of Retreat: neither is any Call of this name found in the official Infantry Bugle Sounds, published January, 1860. But in the Trumpet and Bugle Sounds for Mounted Services of January, 1870, the Retreat to be sounded on the bugle appears in the form we are accustomed to hear daily.

It would be interesting therefore to learn when the practice of sounding retreat with the bugle became officially recognised: it certainly was sounded by drums and fifes, early last century, and in the Rules and Articles, &c., of George I in 1718, we find “every soldier shall repair to his quarters at the beating or sounding retreat.” It is very probable that our present Retreat was adopted from Germany, for the identical Call was used in 1821 in the Hanoverian service, and as the Kings of England, for nearly a century, were also Electors or Kings of Hanover, it is not surprising that other Hanoverian Calls were identical or nearly so with our own. A similar resemblance cannot be traced in those of Prussia, Austria, or Bavaria; and still less in those of France or Belgium.

Again, sounding Tattoo appears to be very old custom, for in Count Mansfield’s Directions of Warre, published in 1624, mention is made as to how the drummers must “at night beat Tapto before the patrole goe about.”

This article first appeared in The Military Musician published at The Royal Military School of Music in October 1934

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The first bandstands can be traced back to the latter half of the eighteenth century when fanciful pleasure domes were erected to house orchestras, and in some cases dancers too, amidst rambling gardens set out to delight the eye and provide vistas for the visiting crowds.

One of the earliest bandstands to have been built was in London's Vauxhall Gardens, while the first specifically built for bands was in Cremorne Gardens, also in London: there bands provided a glittering spectacle in an illuminated pagoda, which offered a perfect focal point for the many entertainment's. The first bandstands were greatly influenced by oriental architecture.

 Since Sir William Chambers, a prominent l8th century architect, constructed his famous Chinese tower at Kew in 1762, the pagoda had become a traditional building in English parks and gardens. Chambers was an enthusiast for all things Chinese: Chinese buildings he thought unremarkable for magnitude or richness of materials but he admired their proportions, simplicity and beauty. He also drew attention to the Chinese emphasis on the importance of a building's precise location and he stressed the need to site a bandstand where its features would be displayed to the best effect .

These ideas proved to be an inspiration to Victorian designers who were commissioned to create islands of nature in the midst of industry. As Victorian entrepreneurs urbanised the landscape, building terrace upon terrace, mills and factories, the lack of access to fresh air and pleasant surroundings became a serious health and social problem. The Victorian solution was to create parks and gardens. Burgesses, reformers and often developers themselves made land available, often on condition that the parks were named after them. West Bromwich opened its 56 acre Dartmouth Park in 1878 on the instigation of the Improvement Commissioners, the land being leased from the Earl of Dartmouth. Once parks were established the people using them soon sought entertainment. Bands, being well suited to open-air entertainment, soon found themselves with very full programmes, and never more so than in what became known as the 'summer season'.

Larger industrial towns often provided several bandstands, especially in the Black Country , where a long tradition of iron- founding reduced the cost of fabrication. West Bromwich's first bandstand was opened in 1887 in Dartmouth Park. It housed bands on two afternoons a week and there was a 'sacred' music concert on Sundays. In 1897 a second bandstand was opened at Hill Top by the Mayor and Samuel Downing, a local ironmaster who doubtless bore a proportion of the £160 building costs. At nearby Wednesbury , where a park was opened to celebrate Queen Victoria's Jubilee, the bandstand figured prominently until as late as the 1953 coronation celebrations when Shirley Prize Band, Keith Hampton and his Castle Rock Orchestra and Harry Engleman and his BBC Playersoffered an astonishing variety of music.

In the late nineteenth century bandstands were in such great demand that ironmakers included them in their catalogues. To some extent this led to a standardisation of styles as there was inevitably a limit to the variations possible with ready- made kits. At the same time some customers preferred to put the building of their bandstand out to competition. Some commissioned distinguished architects, for whom the design of a bandstand must have been something of a diversion. Captain Fowkes, architect of the Albert Hall in London, is known to have designed two bandstands for erection in the Royal Horticultural Society's grounds in Kensington in the 1860's. One of them was later moved to Clapham Common, where it has been used ever since. Some customers wanted something a little eccentric and a flight of municipal fancy seems to have been favoured in many seaside towns. Southend's bandstand, for example, was a monolithic extravagance adorned with classical urns, garlands and foliage, all encased by glass screens and topped by a large globe, itself surmounted by a pointed turret .

At Bournemouth, a resort with a long musical tradition, four bandstands were built for bands and other entertainment's. For promenaders using the pier Bournemouth once had a fine Chinese-style stand at its pier head. Here crowds sat on benches beneath flapping canvas awnings, as Captain Featherstone conducted Bournemouth's Municipal Band or while the Municipal Orchestra played selections from its concert repertoire. 

In the town's Lower Pleasure Gardens stood another stand, a rustic piece with a thatched roof. Bournemouth's two other bandstands were constructed later, on public walks: Fisherman's Walk and Pine Walk. The latter, erected in 1933, took the form of a huge wooden square measuring 22 by 25 feet (6.7 by 7.6 m), complete with four sets of sliding and folding windows.

In the heyday of the British Empire bandstands spread from one end of the world to the other; bandstands were built in Valparaiso, Nassau, Monte Carlo, Milan, Poona and Calcutta. Wherever the British went, whether for business or pleasure, bandstands were sure to follow.

There was no restriction on style. Some were strictly utilitarian: others rose in cakestand layers and Japanese frills. And the popularity of band music all over the world led to a multiplication of stands in parks and gardens in countries with highly individualistic architectural traditions, a factor which further enriched the diversity of styles already introduced by British designers.

Though bandstands are one of the more curious products of English architecture there can be few buildings which span so many countries and exhibit such a variety of architectural styles.

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BANDSTAND BUM-NOTES

 The Mad Tromobonist

(August 1998, Uruguay) In a misplaced moment of inspiration, Paolo Esperanza, bass-trombonist with the Symphonica Maya de Uruguay, decided to make his own contribution to the cannon shots fired during a performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at an outdoor children's concert.

In complete disregard of common sense, he dropped a large lit firecracker, equivalent in strength to a quarter stick of dynamite, into his aluminum straight mute, and then stuck the mute into the bell of his new Yamaha in-line double-valve bass trombone.

Later from his hospital bed he explained to a reporter through a mask of bandages, "I thought the bell of my trombone would shield me from the explosion and focus the energy of the blast outwards and away from me, propelling the mute high above the orchestra like a rocket."

However Paolo was not to speed on his propulsion physics, nor was he qualified to wield high-powered artillery. Despite his haste to raise the horn before the firecracker exploded, he failed to lift the bell of the horn high enough for the airborne mute's arc to clear the orchestra. What happened should serve as a lesson to us all during our own 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 musicians in the woodwind and viola section, where it bypassed the players and rammed straight into the stomach of the conductor, driving him backwards off the podium and directly into the front row of the audience.

Fortunately, the audience was sitting in folding chairs and thus they protected from serious injury. The chairs collapsed under the first row, and passed the energy from the impact of the flying conductor backwards into the people sitting behind them, who in turn were driven back into the people in the third row and so on, like a row of dominos. The sound of collapsing wooden chairs and grunts of people falling on their behinds increased geometrically, adding to the overall commotion of cannons and brass playing the closing measures of the Overture.

Meanwhile, unplanned audience choreography notwithstanding, Paolo Esperanza's Waterloo was still unfolding back on stage. According to Paolo, "As I heard the sound of the firecracker blast, time seemed to stand still. Right before I lost consciousness, I heard an Austrian accent say, "Fur every akshon zer iz un eekval unt opposeet reakshon!" This comes as no surprise, for Paolo was about to become a textbook demonstration of this fundamental law of physics.

Having failed to plug the lead pipe of his trombone, he paved the way for the energy of the blast to send a superheated jet of gas backwards through the mouthpiece, which slammed into his face like the hand of fate, burning his lips and face and knocking him mercifully unconscious.

The pyrotechnic ballet wasn't over yet. The force of the blast was so great it split the bell of his shiny new Yamaha trombone right down the middle, turning it inside out while propelling Paolo backwards off the riser. For the grand finale, as Paolo fell to the ground, his limp hands lost their grip on the slide of the trombone, allowing the pressure of the hot gases to propel the slide like a golden spear into the head of the third clarinetist, knocking him senseless.

The moral of the story? The next time a trombonist hollers "Watch this!" you'd better duck! 

A Player's Guide for Keeping Conductors in Line... 

If there were a basic training manual for orchestra players, it might include ways to practice not only music, but one-upmanship. It seems as if many young players take pride in getting the conductor's goat. The following rules are intended as a guide to the development of habits that will irritate the conductor. (Variations and additional methods depend upon the imagination and skill of the player).

1. Never be satisfied with the tuning note. Fussing about the pitch takes attention away from the podium and puts it on you, where it belongs!

2. When raising the music stand, be sure the top comes off and spills the music on the floor!

3. Complain about the temperature of the rehearsal room, the lighting, crowded space, or a draft. It's best to do this when the conductor is under pressure!

4. Look the other way just before cues!

5. Never have the proper mute, a spare set of strings, or extra reeds... Percussion players must never have all their equipment!

6. Ask for a re-audition or seating change! Ask often! Give the impression you're about to quit! Let the conductor know you're there as a personal favor!

7. Pluck the strings as if you are checking tuning at every opportunity, especially when the conductor is giving instructions! Brass players: drop mutes! Percussionists have a wide variety of droppable items, but cymbals are unquestionably the best because they roll around for several seconds!

8. Loudly blow water from the keys during pauses (Horn, Oboe and Clarinet players are trained to do this from birth).

9. Long after a passage has gone by, ask the conductor if your C# was in tune. This is especially effective if you had no C# or were not playing at the time! (If he catches you, pretend to be correcting a note in your part!)

10. At dramatic moments in the music (while the conductor is emoting) be busy marking your music so that the climaxes will sound empty and disappointing!

11. Wait until well into a rehearsal before letting the conductor know you don't have the music!

12. Look at your watch frequently! Shake it in disbelief occasionally!

13. Tell the conductor, "I can't find the beat!" Conductors are always sensitive about their "stick technique", so challenge it frequently!

14. Ask the conductor if he has listened to the Bernstein recording of the piece! Imply that he could learn a thing or two from it! Also good: ask "Is this the first time you've conducted this piece?"

15. When rehearsing a difficult passage, screw up your face and shake your head indicating that you'll never be able to play it! Don't say anything: make him wonder!

16. If your articulation differs from that of others playing the same phrase, stick to your guns! Do not ask the conductor which is correct until backstage just before the concert!

17. Find an excuse to leave rehearsal about 15 minutes early so that others will become restless and start to pack up and fidget!

18. During applause, smile weakly or show no expression at all! Better yet... nonchalantly put away your instrument! Make the conductor feel he is keeping you from doing something really important!

A violist is sitting in the front row, crying hysterically. The conductor asks the violist. "what's wrong?" The violist answers, "The second oboe loosened one of my tuning pegs." The conductor replied, " I admit, that seems a little childish, but nothing to get so upset about. Why are you crying?" To which the violist replied, "He won't tell me which one!!"

A woman and her friend are walking down the sidewalk when they come upon a frog. The frog looks up at them and says, "Please help me, I'm a jazz saxophonist and a witch put a horrible spell on me and turned me into a frog. If one of you picks me up and kisses me, the spell will be broken and I'll turn back into a jazz saxophonist... I'll marry you, play you the most beautiful songs all the time, take you to all my gigs if you want, and we'll live happily ever after." The woman picks up the frog, puts it in her handbag and starts walking away very quickly. Her friend runs to catch up to her & asks, "Aren't you going to kiss the frog?!?!?" The woman replies, "Hell NO! A talking frog is worth a hell of lot more than a jazz saxophonist!"

Women are like pianos.....If they're not upright, they're grand!!!

A scientific expedition disembarks from its plane at the final outpost of civilization in the deepest Amazon rain forest. They immediately notice the ceaseless thrumming of native drums. As they venture further into the bush, the drums never stop, day or night, for weeks. The lead scientist asks one of the natives about this, and the native's only reply is "Drums good. Drums never stop. Very BAD if drums stop." The drumming continues, night and day, until one night, six weeks into the trip, when the jungle is suddenly silent. Immediately the natives run screaming from their huts, covering their ears. The scientists grab one boy and demand "What is it? The drums have stopped!" The terror-stricken youth replies "Yes! Drums stop! VERY BAD!" The scientists ask "Why? Why? What will happen?" Wild-eyed, the boy responds, " . . . BASS SOLO!!!"

"Madam, you have an instrument between your legs that could bring pleasure to thousands, yet you insist on sitting there and scratching it!" -- Sir Thomas Beechum, conductor, to a cellist with whose performance he was displeased!

What do you call a person who hangs out with musicians?

A drummer!

Female vocalist asks her keyboard player, "I'd like to do 'My Funny Valentine' tonight... but can you think of a way to 'jazz' it up?" Keyboard player replies, "Sure, we can do the first chorus in G minor, then modulate to G#minor for the second chorus in 5/4 time, then modulate to A minor in 3/4 time for the bridge, then cut off the last 3 bars!" She claims, "that might be too complicated to do without a rehearsal!" Keyboard player responds, "Well, that's how you did it last night!"

Researchers wanted to determine if dogs took on the characteristics of their masters. So they set up an experiment in their lab with three dog owners and their dogs. The first owner was a mathematician, the second a chemist, the third a musician! The first dog, owned by the mathematician, was quite impressive, and when thrown a bunch of milk bones onto the floor, used her paws to begin arranging them into elaborate mathematical equations! "Pretty good!" said the researchers, "but not conclusive!" The second dog, owned by the chemist, when thrown a bunch of milk bones on the floor, began to arrange them to display complex chemical formulas! "Not bad!" said the researchers, "but still not conclusive enough!" However, the results of the third dog WERE very convincing in proving that dogs DO take on characteristics of their owners... for the musician's dog... came late, ate all the bones, made it with the other two dogs, then left early!

A drummer, tired from being ridiculed by his peers, decided to learn how to play some "real" musical instruments. He went to a music store, walked in, approached the store clerk, and said, "I'll take that red trumpet over there and that accordion." The store clerk looked at him a bit funny, and replied "OK, you can have the fire extinguisher but the radiator's got to stay."

Ludwig van Beethoven to a fellow composer:  "I liked your opera. I think I will set it to music."

So the new conductor addresses the orchestra. He tells them that things are going to change, that everyone will be expected to be on time and that they will work for many long hours. The timpanist, expressing his displeasure at the turn of events, belts out on the drums BOOM-BOOM- BOOM-BOOM. The conductor, whirling around furiously, says, "Alright, who did that?!"

A girl went out on a date with a trumpet player, and when she came back her roommate asked, "Well, how was it? Did his embouchure make him a great kisser?"

"Nah," the first girl replied. "That dry, tight, tiny little pucker; it was no fun at all."

The next night she went out with a tuba player, and when she came back her roommate asked, "Well, how was his kissing?"

"Ugh!" the first girl exclaimed. "Those huge, rubbery, blubbery, slobbering slabs of meat; oh, it was just gross!"

The next night she went out with a French horn player, and when she came back her roommate asked, "Well, how was his kissing?"

"Well," the first girl replied, "his kissing was just so-so; but I loved the way he held me!"

"There are more bad musicians than there is bad music."

Buglers

Mr Alfred Brindley, a tool fitter from Leicestershire, returned home from work yesterday to find that, due to a typing error, his house had been bugled. This is the latest in a spate of particularly nasty typing errors to be reported in the Midlands during the last few weeks. Forensic experts believe that the buglers broke into Mr Brindley’s house through an unsecured upstairs window, then proceeded to play their instruments loudly and recklessly until they were disturbed by a meter reader. They then fled, leaving several pages of discarded sheet music behind them. Detectives believe that the same buglers are also responsible for other attacks in the area, although they cannot rule out the possibility that a number of trombonists were also involved.

In a statement to the press, Leicestershire Constabulary has promised that more resources will be diverted into the attempt to get these vicious typing errors stopped. In the meantime, they offer their sincerest condolences to the unfortunate victims. "These attacks are irritating and unpleasant, but we must remember that it could be a lot worse," commented Chief Inspector John Quigley, who was himself buggered only last month.