ain't nobody here but us chickens
I grew up playing trombone as a kid. I loved being told that it was the loudest instrument in the orchestra. there felt like a lot of power in the awkward and misunderstood instrument. or maybe it's that I felt a kinship to the instrument as an extension of my awkward and not-yet understood adolescent body.
Arve Henriksen plays the trumpet in a masterful way that invokes the long sad stretches of being alone with an instrument and yourself when, in my experience, you had no idea or motivation of what to do with either. There's a melancholy in the 'playfulness' of his technique that brings tears, a hopeless fumbling and the sucking sounds of breath force a mortality into the sound.
solid tearjerker: Loved One
http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=bae266263194a60eab1eab3e9fa335ca4b7bc86e2b63be49
Arve Henriksen plays the trumpet in a masterful way that invokes the long sad stretches of being alone with an instrument and yourself when, in my experience, you had no idea or motivation of what to do with either. There's a melancholy in the 'playfulness' of his technique that brings tears, a hopeless fumbling and the sucking sounds of breath force a mortality into the sound.
solid tearjerker: Loved One
http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=bae266263194a60eab1eab3e9fa335ca4b7bc86e2b63be49