F-Bombs ahead
Low brass player's creed, circulating since I was in college.
Attributed to a trombonist:
Blow the fucking shit out of it man and don't give a fucking inch and let'm know you're back there and that you don't give a damn about their temper mental prima donna horse shit attitudes because you are a LOW BRASS PLAYER and that means you got to fuckin' nail it to the wall and to that you got to be a real fucking man, with a chin (dwandle-deedle) and that means you're gonna by-God nail and plow and wahf and drag and push the "lead the whole damn section" through every part no matter what it is - Mozart of Mahler (hell they're all the same ain't they, besides a 'fortsando is a fortsando') and if they don't like it they can by-God find another player because you don't need their damn money and those sissy-ass conductors and tin eared string players (those turds 'think' they can hear the grass grow) and the damn twiddly-dink woodwind players that are so sure that all low brass players want to play loud all the time CAN JUST KISS MY ASS and if they don't want to pay you double-fucking scale, they can simply get screwed for all you care cause they couldn't replace you with a player half as good and they can just stick that bloody contract up their aristocratic assholes cause if they don't appreciate a big fucking sound with some body and breadth and projection and carrying power, you don't want any part of this orchestra (such shitty management anyway) and they can take the whole symphony society and/or art alliance and shove it cause you're fed up with this amateur bullshit and they can come across with some real bread or fuck off or they'll be hunting another player because you've got a million other offers and you've got no problem playing the horn because you can fucking read!
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