Those wild and crazy guys of Mnozil do it again

Soaring brass [Mnozil rocks out] and dignified kids [Nakagurose Elementary School]

I love Mnozil, and I love those Japanese kids. I'm bumping this to the top of the queue on general principle.

 

I love these guys, and I love this particular clip, crude, rude, loud, and bombastic though it is. And funny too. 

But I particularly like the passage that starts at about 3:23 and continues through 3:49, where the trumpets play in harmony, to about 4:14, where they're switching gears to move into the next section of the melody. That passage has been haunting me for the last two or three days. It pops into my inner ear and plays over and over until...it doesn't or until I listen to this clip.

Why? Well, I suppose in part because I'm a trumpeter and the trumpets get to soar. I know what it is to play like that. But you don't have to be a trumpeter to get there. You just have to like music.

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I love these guys too, the whole clip. But they're not guys, most of them are girls–though there are a few guys here and there. I've been listening to this one for maybe 10 years. That long?

They clearly love what they're doing. They're serious about it. Above all, they're dignified. And, in a way, they're adult. Better, when they're performing they're no longer kids–for, as you can plainly see, that's what they are–they're just people making music.

No particular age. Age doesn't matter here.

Just musical beings.

A look under the hood through the insane musical genius that is Mnozil Brass

Note: This had been originally posted at 3 Quarks Daily, but it got lost when 3QD moved to a new location. Meanwhile a number of the video clips got thrown in jail by the copyright protection gang. Consequently I've had to find new versions (where I good) and the timings on the new versions are a bit different from the timings I list in the text.]

I don’t know just when it was, but let’s say it was half a dozen years ago. I’m on an email list for trumpet players and someone had sent a message suggesting we check out the Mnozil Brass. Strange name, I thought, but I found some clips on YouTube and have been entranced ever since.

They’re a brass septet from Austria, six trumpets, six trombones, and a tuba. Their repertoire is all over the place and their genius is unmistakable. They are superb musicians, but also arch conceptualists, skilled comedic performers, and questionable dancers. They put on a hell-of-a-show. And I do mean “put-on”, as much of what they do is deeply serious in a way that only inspired buffoonery can be.

Here’s a performance that was posted to YouTube in April of 2012. It’s just shy of four minutes long and goes through distinct phases. It’s called “Moldavia”, presumably after the old principality in Eastern Europe.

Watch the clip. Tell me what you hear, but also what you see. Both are important. It’s their interaction that is characteristic of Mnozil.

What I hear, of course, is brass playing, a lyrical trombone, ferocious trumpets, a tuba holding down the bottom. And then there’s the singing toward the end. What are they doing while singing? They’re not standing still like choir boys. They’re moving and gesticulating madly. Dominance it looks like to me, (male) dominance. You may have heard that in the music, though perhaps not identifying it as such; but now you can see it. They’re showing you what’s driving the music.

But that’s not how it starts. It starts with a rubato trombone solo. There’s a shot of the tuba player slouched in his seat reading some magazine; it’s black with a large white Playboy bunny logo on it. The implication is that he’s looking at pictures of naked women.

And so it goes. There’s lots of business going on. I could, but won’t, comment on it endlessly.

But I’ll say just a bit more. At about twenty seconds in we’re in tempo and the leftmost trumpeter (Thomas Gansch, the ringleader of the group) does a few dance steps, while remaining seated. To my (not terribly well informed) eye they look like steps from some Balkan circle dance. A bit later there’s some business about the trumpeters standing play, but one of them isn’t coordinated with the others. What’s that about?

It goes by quickly and then things move on. What we’re seeing is the behind-the-scenes (under the hood) mechanisms of performance. Signals have been crossed and it takes awhile to get things straightened out. That is, that’s what we’re being shown. Of course, no one’s really confused. This is all scripted. It’s part of the performance. Mnozil are playing at performing.

But that disappears at about two minutes in when the trumpets start playing a wicked fast melody in an odd meter (7/8), at least by the most common practice in Western music. Remember, this is “Moldavia”, somewhere suspended between Europe and the (exotic) Middle East. I can assure you, as a trumpet player, that what they’re doing here is ferociously difficult. But you don’t need me to tell you that. You can hear it in the music. And that difficulty requires skill, concentration, and commitment. At this point it’s all and only music. And yet a minute later they’re doing that vocal nonsense.

That’s how it is. Back and forth. Irony. Sincerity. Irony. Sincerity. Overall: KICKASS! Their virtuosity gives weight to their clowning. And their clowning humanizes their virtuosity.

They’re unique.

Here’s a different clip, called “Ballad”, and that’s what it is. I’ve been told it’s from the soundtrack of Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo, but I’ve not verified that, nor does it matter for my purposes. What matters is that it’s one piece of music from start to finish, with no funny stage business. It’s ‘ordinary’ music, played extraordinarily well.

[This clip was, alas, consumed by the copyright protection gang.]

Regardless of the kind of music being played, this is what we expect of musical performances, just the music. If you don’t see what Mnozil’s doing while performing “Moldavia” you music quite a bit. Here, you don’t miss much.

Now let’s look at a performance where the music is utterly simple while the performance is all. It’s called “Lonely Boy”. At the beginning we hear the tuba player, Wilfried Brandstötter, lay down an ostinato bass line and see a lone man – trombonist Leonard Paul – slumped down in a chair.

One by one he brings two other trombonists and then two trumpeters out. He ‘manipulates’ the trombone slides with his feet and the trumpet valves with his fingers, but the other players do the blowing. Paul is looking utterly detached while doing this. It’s an astonishing feat played in an utterly deadpan manner.

And then the last member of the group, trumpeter Roman Rindberger, comes out and removes the chair from underneath Paul. The performance continues seamlessly while Rindberger parades around like a triumphant magician. Of course, his is the easiest part, strutting and looking (a bit) graceful.

But it works. It all works. Take it as an allegory about how people performing music become a single interconnected being, albeit one distributed across several physically distinct bodies. And the audience is (just) an extension of that being.

Mnozil @3QD, plus notes on repertoire and comedy

My latest 3QD piece went up on Monday, A look under the hood through the insane musical genius that is Mnozil Brass (now located HERE at New Savanna) I took some of the pieces I’ve written here and edited them together along with some new material. Basically, I’m trying to figure out what these guys are doing. I’ve got more thinking to do.

Lurking in the back of my mind is the question: Why isn’t there more of this kind of thing, whatever it is?

Repertoire & cultural fluidity

Last week I began thinking about their repertoire, which ranges across classical, pop, jazz, movies, and folk. That in itself is perhaps not so unusual. The Canadian Brass has been doing that for years. My childhood hero, Rafael Mendez, did it as well, putting out records with selections from at least two or three genres. And then we have the variety shows that were once a staple of television programming. Of course such shows had different kinds of acts – music, comedy, dance, magic – but the musical acts were often enough from different genres.

But then we have single pieces that crossed genres. That’s been around for awhile as well. In the early 1940s Harry James performed “Concerto for Trumpet” in a movie – which Mnozil has performed recently. It was about three minutes long and combined classical, swing, klezmer (as it’s now called). Rafael Mendez had and arrangement of Brahms’ “Hungarian Dance No. Five” that includes swing sections. Mnozil’s “Remixes of Concerto of Arutiunian” combines classical, the “Arutiunian Trumpet Concerto”, folk, “Mexican Hat Dance”, and a bit of a TV theme, from Bonanza.

This kind of eclecticism presupposes an audience that can respond to it. In particular, I think it presupposes an audience that recognizes many of these different sources. You may not be able to identify all the sources – I certainly can’t – but you need to be able to identify many of them. It’s not enough that you are willing to listen to these different kinds of music, and even like them, but you need to recognize that they have different origins. This is music that’s about cultural fluidity.

Comedy

And then there’s the comedy. Not all of their pieces have a comedic element. But many, perhaps most, do. In some cases it is relatively slight, in others it is pervasive. And in some cases the piece becomes a kind of performance art. For example, here’s Der Drache (The Dragon):

The musicians occupy the stage, facing to the left, milling about and playing. There is a “dragon” off stage to the right. We never see it, but it occasionally delivers a musical blast that sends our musicians scattering. The entire nine-minute piece is about the musicians coming to terms with this dragon. Which they do with various kinds of music, all – I assumed – composed for this piece.

That’s it.

That’s very different from “Moldavia”, which I discussed in the 3QD piece (and here). The music is rooted in East European and Balkan folk traditions. If you simply listen to the music you’d hear them playing a technically and rhythmically complex piece of music with utter conviction. The comedy is in actions and gestures that accompany some sections. But what’s that comedy about? Are they satirizing the musical idiom, or the performance (of that idiom)? I’m not sure; I’m not even sure what that question means?

When I think over all the pieces I’ve seen the most obvious object of their satire seems to be male arrogance and aggression. These are men strutting about and posturing while they somehow manage to make music together. Are we bearing witness to the power of music to tame the male ego? Is this about civilization versus animal being?

* * * * *

And why isn’t there more of this kind of thing, whatever it is? The closest comparable acts I can think of are the Victor Borge and Peter Schickele’s P.D.Q. Bach. Is this blending of music and comedy difficult to do, requiring a skill set that few have? Or is the audience so small that it can’t support many such acts? Are those the right questions to ask?

* * * * *

A 2011 interview with Wilfried Branstötter (tuba) and gerhard Füssl (trombone).

Straying into Mnozil territory?

From the accompanying article in the NYTimes:

Michael Landers and Ariel Hsing, table tennis champions in their early 20s, are featured as the Ping-Pong-playing soloists in Andy Akiho’s energetic concerto “Ricochet,” which will have its American premiere on Tuesday as part of the Philharmonic’s Lunar New Year gala. And yes, this is the first time a Ping-Pong table has been onstage at David Geffen Hall.

As staged in New York, the concerto will showcase two soloists — a violinist, Elizabeth Zeltser of the Philharmonic, and a percussionist, David Cossin — at the front of the stage. The Ping-Pong players are elevated at the back, like opera singers performing above an orchestra pit.

Separating the athlete-soloists from the rest of the ensemble is a tall net that protects the musicians (and the audience) from wayward balls. Not that there should be so many of those: The table-tennis parts, which sometimes involve playing with objects like wine glasses and drums in lieu of paddles, require no less skill than the ones for the traditional instruments. Summer-camp amateurs need not apply. [...]

But Mr. Akiho, an imaginative composer and percussionist known for playing the steel pan and found instruments, said his concerto shouldn’t be taken too seriously.

Some Notes on the Inspired Insanity of Mnozil Brass

I don’t know when I first discovered the Mnozil Brass, but I’ve been listening to them for a number of years now. They’re brilliant, but just what they do, that’s a bit tough to characterize. Sure, they make music, but what kind of music? – nor is it only music that they make.

Here’s a short clip entitled “Remixes Concerto of Arutiunian”. When it opens we see four musicians on stage, three trombone players and a tuba player (in the rear) and we hear trumpet playing off stage. If you’re familiar with the Arutiunian Trumpet Concerto you know that the music you’re listening to isn’t that, nor anything like it. For all I know it’s some traditional Tyrolean tune – Mnozil is an Austrian outfit.

The three trombone players engage in some stage business to the music – perhaps they’re imitating some mechanical figures dancing on the lid of a wind-up music box. They look at the tuba player, he looks at them, they look at one another, making faces and gesturing. They up with something. By about 35 seconds in they’ve ready to make their move. At the same time the music has switched into a minor key. Our musicians are prancing around, gesturing with their horns, and are oriented toward the left side of the stage. Obviously that’s where the trumpeters are.

At about 49 seconds in they unload with a blast of music. It’s a line from the Arutiunian trumpet concerto. As soon as they finish that line the offstage trumpeters let go with a short fanfare as our onstage musicians prance around in triumph while the audience claps. There’s even a bit of armpit sniffing.

But their victory is short-lived. At about 1:10 or so the trumpeters start up again, this time with “The Mexican Hat Dance.” So the lower brass starts up again with the gesturing, setting up to deliver another blast of sound to the trumpeters. At about 1:33 they deliver the same line from the Arutiunian; the trumpeters answer with the same little fanfare; and the lower brass continue on this time.

At 1:45 the trumpeters come prancing out on to the stage, making gestures like they’re on horseback. One of them, the last one (Thomas Gansch), is playing the trumpet solo line from the Arutiunian. Now we’ve got seven musicians on stage prancing around like they’re on horseback, one of them playing the solo line, the lower brass playing back-up figures, and then another melody appears. I don’t recognize it; maybe it was composed for this piece, maybe it’s from a music score, who knows? It’s not clear what’s going on, but they manage to work themselves into a V formation, prancing all the while, and then work their way to a straight line facing the audience. At 2:30 the music converges on the theme song from Bonanza. They play a few bars of that and they’re done. They make gestures suggesting they’re bringing their horses to a halt so they can dismount. As some of you may know, Bonanza was a hit Western that was on American TV in the 1960s. That, presumably, provides a rationale for the horse riding.

But what’s the rationale for the whole performance, which I find rather convincing? The stage business is not incidental, it’s essential, as is the juxtaposition of distinctly different kinds of source music. In the end I suppose that the Arutiunian is the dominant voice, but still, what’s the point? It seems to me that the stage business is required to make the whole thing hold together. It gives us just a bit of a story, some kind of conflict between the trumpets and the low brass that is somehow resolved through horsing around at the end.

Here’s another somewhat longer bit, “Cirque - toot toot”. It opens with a lone trombone player on stage standing on a chair. He blows a whistle and the other musicians enter from both sides of the stage playing something that I don’t recognize. They march around a bit and then our ‘conductor’, the trombonist we started with, whistles them to a halt and then starts them up again.

They continue playing – the piece they were playing at the beginning – and work their way to a line across the stage. And then...I’m not going to try to describe what happens as it’s best to see it. But there’s a bunch of stage business, the music stops, the trombonist gets everyone positioned just right and then, at about three minutes in, they start up again. At about 3:11 we realize they’re playing “In the Navy”, a song that was a hit for The Village People some years ago. They get through one line of that, put down their instruments, and start singing another Village People hit, “Y.M.C.A.” That falls apart at about 3:40 and they start up again with the piece they opened with, marching around on stage.

The trombonist whistles them to a halt at 4:29. Two of the trombones start up with a line from Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring while the opening guy puts on a mask and then joins in. We’re midway through the performance. They move around and so forth, their motions in one way or another reflecting what’s going on in the music. But from here to the end the music is from The Rite of Spring. They bring it to a unified and satisfying, albeit a bit abrupt, conclusion at about 9:17.

What’s it all about? As with the first piece we have the juxtaposition of distinctly different kinds of music in a single performance. This is characteristic of their repertoire as a whole. And we have the use of stage business to hold things together. There’s a sense in which they’re “meta” to the music they performing, but not very. They’re certainly not disengaged. Ironic? Maybe.

Basically, it works. I can describe something of what they’re doing. But what it all means, what holds it together, that’s beyond me. I’m not sure we’ve got the language needed to deal with it.

Let me leave you with one last clip. It’s called “Ballad”, and that’s what it is. It’s one piece of music from start to finish, with no funny stage business. It’s ‘ordinary’ music, played extraordinarily well.

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More commentary on Mnozil:

• Mnozil's "Blue", a bunch of other tunes, a man in a ratty black wig & red cape
• Mnozil Brass Rocks Out

Mnozil's "Blue", a bunch of other tunes, a man in a ratty black wig & red cape. And some kick-ass brass playing.

I've been watching Mnozil Brass for several years now and think they're fabulous. They combine music and comedy in a stunning way. They're septet out of Austria. They are VERY good, playing a repertoire of Balkan folk music, pop tunes, classical and semi-classical, jazz, and whatever else.

Here's "Blue", which seems to function as their theme song:

This is a short version. Notice the soulfulness of the playing. Also notice a slight 'glitch' at about 1:40 where the left-most trumpet player steps forward and introduces himself, "Thomas Gansch". This is in fact edited from a longer recording where Gansch introduces the members of the group with "Blue" riffing in the background. Gansch wrote this tune. Oh, and wait for the ending, a characteristic Mnozil touch. It's totally out of character with most of what came before, and yet it works. It brings the tune to an emphatic close.

This is "Moldavia" and is one of the first Mnozil performances I watched. It starts slow. Notice the comedy. And then it goes into full-tilt gonzo odd-meter time that is just breath-taking. This is technical virtuosity of a high order:

"Lonely Boy" is utterly different. If you just listened you'd quickly lose interest. There's almost nothing going on in the music itself – almost, but not entirely. Watch how they stage the performance and try to guess where it's going:

Amazing, no? What is this, music, comedy, nonsense, peformance art, all of the above? Where are these guys from, Area 51?

Now, we give their tuba player, Wilfried Brandströtter, his own solo feature. Trumpet solos, trombone, sure. But tuba's are supposed to be accompanying instruments. They provide the musical bottom. But they don't do a lot of showy stuff in the limelight.

NOT!

Brandströtter plays the s**t out of the tuba while the others mess around in the background. Notice how, at the end, the others keep Brandströtter from taking bows. Then he switches things up in a way that exposes the macho heart of brass playing. And they're utterly serious about this super-hero music, cape and all. But then, didn't Richard Wagner invent super-hero music?

Mnozil Bossa

These guys are just wonderful:

Mnozil Brass Rocks Out

This is queer on so many levels and angles it’s beyond wonderful. And that’s no theory. Fact.

First, it’s brass instruments, gender-typed as male. Performed by, well, men. Most of them Austrian, you know, from Mitteleuropa. Conservatory-trained but still in touch with folk brass band traditions, which are still very much alive in Central and Eastern Europe through the Balkans, but have become thoroughly bourgie in the USofA and England (British brass bands).

It opens with a fanfare very much in the heroic brass mold. And then it goes all to hell. First there's a trombonist playing Stevie Wonder. That's Zoltan Kiss, from Hungary, strutting and prancing around the stage. An absolute monster of a player, though only one aspect of his monsterhood is on display here.

Then we have two trumpeters and the tuba player doing “Stayin’ Alive” in falsetto. That's the BeeGees, disco, very gay. Male falsetto, well now, that’s got layers and layers. One strain of this vocal style goes back to West Africa, where male falsetto is uber macho, unlike in the (white) West where it’s, well, you know, homo. But not in African-America, where male falsetto retains its West African gender typing.