It all started at the end of a parade in Austin, Texas in 2015. A university marching band sousaphone section had staked out their territory, planted themselves, and blasted their ostentatious herd call. “Loud” understates the surreal experience; that beastly group halted all activity with the collective crassness of their din! With a raised eyebrow, a fellow Air Force musician near me aptly dubbed them “blastodons”!

Brass players are stereotypically a unique breed of musicians. When I introduce myself in masterclasses and clinics, I tell folks that when I discovered the trumpet, I found my true musical voice: loud and obnoxious. With that self-defined animalistic identity, the 2015 term “blastodons” morphed from the crass sousaphone rally to… ahem… a “musical” idea that I finally sketched in my notebook. For much of my professional performing career, I have belonged to various herds of blastodons, mostly in the form of brass quintets, which is the perfect medium for this caricature.

This extremely fun piece is best performed memorized to enable communicative and choreographed movements that tell the story. Costuming could include horned hats or helmets, with the French horn player’s horns (one or both) being upside-down. Long brown fur could add to the aesthetic. Why is the horn the misfit? It was an arbitrary decision. This character depiction should be visibly clear before the musicians start playing.

The best placement in a performance is as the opener to the second half. Two recommended ways to start this piece are both effective: 1. The herd lumbers onto the stage while playing the opening raucous strains. Or, 2. The herd trudges silently onto the stage to allow for some laughter, while leaving the horn behind to more blatantly hint at its character; the horn enters after the group looks around questioningly. Either way, the group plays homogenously as a unified herd until m. 15. In the meantime, the tuba establishes itself as the preeminent figure in the herd’s hierarchy. The first trumpet plants itself as a competing but supportive alpha with the melody, even taking on a solo exposition in m. 11. All goes splendidly as a group, maybe with the horn acting a little strangely in comparison to the others, like bobbing in opposition to the others, etc. In m. 11, the horn’s sour note is a showstopper! All turn in disgust and shock at the horn’s blunder, which is starkly repeated, not necessarily in time.

The instructions in each part tell the story. In turn, each instrument becomes seduced to the horn’s sour note, every time to the dismay of the uncorrupted members of the herd. At last, the tuba, who had tenaciously held out as the herd’s alpha leader, finally succumbs to “herd mentality,” and gives in to the blunder just before the piece ends.

If a narrator is present, this introduction should be read before the Blastodons’ appearance, as if narrating a serious documentary:

“Frozen in the deepest recesses of the icy caves of Antarctica, a recent discovery of a previously unknown species has baffled scientists throughout the world. After a thorough study of facial anatomy, it was determined that these beasts were capable of creating unnaturally loud sounds. Biologists classify the new species as blastodonus crudus, otherwise referred to as “Blastodons.” Further studies have revealed the crude beasts’ ultimate demise. An extreme case of herd mentality drove the Blastodons to complete extinction. A faithful reenactment of this vital episode in earth’s history is about to be presented by a group of experts. Pay close attention and take careful notes as [INSERT NAME OF PERFORMING GROUP] presents their meticulous account of: The Blastodons!