Category: history

Why trombone players cannot trust artificial intelligence (AI) for historical information

Why trombone players cannot trust artificial intelligence (AI) for historical information

by Douglas Yeo (December 17, 2025)

I am at work on a book for Oxford University Press, The Trombone Book, that will be part of OUP’s new series of books on musical instruments. This new series replaces OUP’s previous series of books on musical instruments that included Trombone Technique by my late friend, Denis Wick (London: Oxford, 1971) that has been out of print for several years. I am working up against several deadlines to get the book finished and submitted by the end of 2026, so I’m working on this every day. It’s slow going because I want the book to be helpful. And if it’s going to be helpful, it needs to be accurate.

Included in my new book are several chapters on the history of the trombone, its music, composers, and performers. I have over 2000 books in my library here at home, and I make ample use of inter-library loan (ILL, or ILLIAD), access to which is generously provided to me by the kind staff at the Library at my undergraduate alma-mater, Wheaton College. 

Two of the seven bookcases about composers, musical instruments, and other music related subjects in my home office. In our basement, I have many more bookcases full of books.

When it comes to historical resources, many have been scanned and are available on IMSLP  and Internet Archive. This is a tremendous resource for researchers, a real change from the microfilm/microfiche days of old. (I remember those days; it was not an easy time to do research.) When I can’t find a scan online, I acquire the book. If I can’t get the book through inter-library-loan, I purchase it. Even though many historical passages in treatises and methods have been translated into English by various authors (including David Guion, Howard Weiner, and Stewart Carter), I always want to see the original myself and do my own translation. In some cases, when I deal with old typography in various languages (16th through 18th centuries), it’s difficult to read, and artificial intelligence can be helpful in providing the original text in readable form. AI (I use ChatGPT 5.2, a paid service that is more advanced than the free ChatGPT 4.o) can provide a reasonably good text into modern languages from old typography, and it also reasonably translates text into English. In this, AI can be very helpful, However. . . after I read an AI-made translation, I always redo the translation myself and also confirm the translation with a native speaker of that language. Because I don’t trust AI. 

I have written about this previously on TheLastTrombone and if you haven’t read my article, ChatGPT and the trombone: Is this the end of writing and research? I don’t think so., please take a minute to do so. In that article, I fed ChatGPT several questions about the trombone and other musical instruments. The answers will probably surprise you but my conclusion should not: You cannot trust AI when it comes to the history of the trombone.

There are three reasons for this:

First, AI only knows what it’s been fed. If it’s been fed junk — older readers may remember IBM’s early motto, “GIGO,” or “Garbage In, Garbage Out” — it will spew out junk. Frankly, there is a lot of trombone research out there that’s pure junk. And AI has been fed a steady diet of trombone research junk. Why that’s the case is another story, but suffice to say that when I read something about the trombone in a book or article, I always look for the footnote and I track down the source myself. Because machines aren’t the only thing that get things wrong: human beings get things wrong, too, or they’re sloppy, or they don’t cite a source correctly, or they cite a secondary source that cites another secondary source and when you go to the end of the rainbow, there is no primary source. I wrote about this — people making up something and presenting it as true because they didn’t actually track down the original source — on TheLastTrombone when I discovered that the Pulitzer Prize Committee had mangled a quotation by Joseph Pulitzer ON ITS OWN WEBSITE. Read about that HERE, in my article titled, “Words matter.”

Second, AI is getting worse, not better when it comes to history. When it is asked questions, AI tries to answer them. It rarely says “I don’t know.” Instead, it feeds on previous answers it has given to similar questions, even if those answers were wrong. In time, like a game of “telephone,” AI ends up with something that’s wrong but sounds plausible. It always writes with excruciatingly accurate grammar and punctuation, even if sometimes the sentence structure it uses is a little over the top and a little cringeworthy.

Third, AI hallucinates. It makes up stuff. All. The. Time.

I’m taking time away from working on my book today to share a recent interaction I had with AI regarding a 18th century text about the trombone. I’m working with multiple sources at the same time and now and then, I get confused about where I actually got a source. I have hundreds of PDFs of articles, treatises, and methods in several languages. I have many screenshots I’ve taken of text that I’ve then uploaded to ChatGPT to put into a modern typeface so I can read it better.

Today, I was proofreading chapter 2 of my book, “A Brief History of the Conception and Evolution of the Trombone.” The first part of the chapter concerns many of the myths about the history of the trombone, myths that have been repeated over and over again in papers, dissertations, and books. Starting out with what’s wrong about how the trombone’s history has been told allows me to correct false narratives. It also gives me a good starting place to get back to ground zero and write something about the trombone’s history without the fog of mis- and dis-information that has affected trombone research for hundreds of years.

While I was proofreading, I came across an origin story for the trombone that I had included in my chapter — a false origin story. I recalled that I had read an English translation of the text I’m including in the chapter in a book, but I couldn’t recall where. My citation was for the original treatise; at least I THOUGHT it was the correct citation. But something in the back of my mind wondered if I had it right, so I re-uploaded the text to ChatGPT and asked what the source was. Here’s the text I needed to identify:

It’s the first paragraph that interests me. It’s a false narrative about the origin of the trombone. I translated it like this:

According to the testimony of Philo, the trombone was invented by the great, God-beloved prophet Moses, around the year 2400 of the world 200, just as Jewish writers ascribe the psaltery and cither to the first musician, Jubal. So, it is beyond dispute that the trombone is one of the most ancient  musical instruments. 

In my citation, I had given this as the source:

Johann Philipp Eisel, Musicus autodidactus, oder der sich selbst informirende Musicus (Erfurt: Wülfingische Buchhandlung 1738), 70.

But I wanted to be sure. So I asked ChatGPT. What follows are screenshots of my interaction with AI just a few hours ago, today, December 17, 2025. It begins with my uploading the passage (above) and my asking AI to identify it. I told AI that it had previously worked on this passage for me. My comments are on the right side of each screenshot, in a shaded box; ChatGPT is on the left:

AI identified the passage as from Daniel Speer’s important treatise Grund-richter Unterricht der Musikalischen Kunst (Fundamentally Correct Instruction in the Musical Arts) (Ulm: Georg Wilhelm Kühne; Christian Balthasar Kühnen sel. Erben, 1697). 

AI said it was NOT from Walther’s Musicalisches Lexicon. Walther’s book, Musicalisches Lexicon oder Musicalische Bibliothec (Leipzig: Wolfgang Deer, 1732). I don’t know why ChatGPT said the text was not by Walther. AI must have thought I might have thought the quotation was from Walther’s book even though I had not referenced that book in any of my previous interactions with ChatGPT. A red flag went up in my mind.

In any case, ChatGPT continued to explain its confidence in identifying the passage as by Daniel Speer. It wrote:

That sounds pretty confident. And raise your hand if that answer would be good enough for you to include AI’s attribution to Speer in your paper about the trombone. I see your hand up!

But I wasn’t so sure. This all sounded a little suspicious. AI didn’t give any REAL source for the attribution to Speer. It said the passage “is characteristic of Speer,” it is out of “Speer’s Biblical-historical framework,” “Josephus” appears in Speer’s work, etc. It didn’t seem right, even though it confidently told me where I could find the text in Speer’s book.  So, I asked AI to give me more:

First, here you can see the “fake news” in this passage, now that it’s translated into English. It cites the Hellenistic Jewish Philosopher, Philo of Alexandria, who, the passage says, testified that the trombone was invented by Moses — yes, THAT Moses, he of the 10 Commandments — in the year 2400 OF THE WORLD (not BC or AD, but OF THE WORLD) — and that “it is beyond dispute that the trombone is one of the most ancient musical instruments.” You can see why I’m including this text in my book where I talk about the myths of the trombone’s origins. It. Is. Not. True.

Second, ChatGPT’s translation of the passage into English is a little different than my own translation that I’m including in my book, as mentioned above. That’s because there are many ways to “do translation.” Word-for word, or thought-for-thought, or a combination. Once again, here’s my translation. It isn’t better or worse than the one that AI gave, but it’s a little more literal. The important thing is that the sense of the original comes through loud and clear and nothing new is added to the author’s intent:

According to the testimony of Philo, the trombone was invented by the great, God-beloved prophet Moses, around the year 2400 of the world 200, just as Jewish writers ascribe the psaltery and cither to the first musician, Jubal. So, it is beyond dispute that the trombone is one of the most ancient  musical instruments 

OK, back to AI. . .

I looked at my original citation for the text as I had written it in my book chapter. I had it identified as by Johann Eisel, as mentioned above. I was having doubts about Chat GPT’s confidence that the passage was from Speer, and I was gaining confidence in my original citation of Eisel.

I went back to my files and found Speer’s treatise. ChatGPT said the text in question came from page 221 of Speer’s book. I found the page; here’s what Speer wrote about the trombone on the bottom of page 221 and top of page 222:

Page 221 and 222 (incipts) from Daniel Speer, Grund-richtiger, kurtz-leicht- und nöthiger, jetzt wol-vermehrter Unterricht der musicalischen Kunst. Oder Vierfaches musicalisches Kleeblatt… (Ulm: Georg Wilhelm Kühne; Christian Balthasar Kühnen sel. Erben, 1697)

Here, below, is an English translation of these passages. You’ll notice that Speer is writing about the trombone in A, that the trombone has only three slide positions, and that alto, tenor, and bass trombone parts can all be played on a tenor trombone. I’m not going to unpack those things in this blog article; that’s a long conversation for another time (read about them in my book when it comes out!). Here’s what Speer wrote:

On trombones.

How does one ordinarily play a trombone?
A trombone is played by blowing and by means of the slide.

How many slide positions does a trombone have?
The principal slide positions of the trombone are in three places, apart from several others which should also be added.

Since on a tenor trombone one can play alto, tenor, and bass, this instrument shall therefore be described first.

First, one should know a trombone consists of two parts, namely the main section and the slide tubes, which lie within a sleeve. The main section is fitted onto the slide tubes, and the entire trombone is held with the left hand — a customary manner of holding which the instructor will already demonstrate to his pupil. With the right hand, however, one grasps the sleeve between the fingers.

This instrument has three principal slide positions. The first position is at the mouthpiece and consists of the following notes, as the appended example shows:

Interesting stuff, for sure. But there’s nothing on these pages about Philo. Nothing. Nothing about Moses. Nothing. 

So I questioned AI about this:

Well, AI sure put me in my place: “Your screenshot is not from Eisel.” That sounds pretty definitive. But I pulled up my sleeves. I was ready for battle.

“OK, machine,” I thought. “Game on.”

By then I knew I was right and ChatGPT was wrong. I remembered where I first saw the quotation: it is in David M. Guion’s book, The Trombone: Its History and Music, 1697–1811 (New York: Gordon and Breach, 1988; reprint, New York: Routledge, 2013). David’s book is invaluable for a lot of reasons, including the fact that he reproduces comments about the trombone from many historical books and treatises. I turned to page 41 of David’s book and found the passage in question in the original German alongside David’s translation to English. If you’re a trombonist and you don’t have this book, ask Santa Claus to bring you a copy, or get it from the library. Here’s the passage from David Guion’s book; this is where I first read about Eisel’s story about Philo and the supposed origin — NOT! — of the trombone:

Excerpt from David M. Guion’s book, The Trombone: Its History and Music, 1697–1811 (Gordon and Breach, 1988; reprint, New York: Routledge, 2013), page 41. 

As you can see above, David’s English translation is a little different than the one ChatGPT made and the one I made. All three give a good sense of the original. But even though David’s a really good researcher and scholar (and a fine trombonist, too), I wanted to see the original with my own eyes and make my own translation. I’ve seen enough instances where someone has missed a word—I’ve done it myself. It’s really important to me to get to the original source if I can find it. So I went looking for Eisel’s original. 

Now it was time for me to ask ChatGPT another question. It had hallucinated — it had made up that the passage was by Speer. I wanted to know why, and I let the machine have it right between the eyes—or between semiconductors:

It took 44 seconds for ChatGPTto “think” and then write one of the most difficult sentences in the English language: “You’re right, and I was wrong.” AI went on to explain WHY it was wrong. Its answer was revealing. It didn’t check for the source of the quotation in question. It used a pattern-matching algorithm to attribute the quotation to Speer. Further, it was “overconfident.” When I challenged the attribution, instead of checking again, AI argued with me. It thought it knew the right answer and I didn’t. But AI was wrong.

I wasn’t going to let AI off the hook. In hopes that this “conversation” with a machine might help it make better decisions in the future, I scolded ChatGPT:

OK. A gold star for Douglas Yeo. A failing grade for ChatGPT. But, actually, this isn’t funny. This kind of thing goes on ALL THE TIME. ChatGPT’s conclusion is actually exactly correct:

If AI is to be useful in serious scholarship at all, it has to be treated — and behave — as a fallible research assistant, not an oracle.

Yes. Read these words over, and over, and over. This is important.

I hope that this short diversion from my afternoon of working on my book is both revealing and helpful to readers who engage in research and writing. AI is really useful for a lot of things. But it is also really BAD for a lot of things. We simply cannot rely on it for historical information. As AI tools evolve, they are getting more and more confident. That confidence is often misplaced. As I said earlier, AI’s answers often are like a game of “telephone.” Over time, AI’s overconfidence causes it to use its own hallucinations and misinformation and pile it on top of other misinformation on top of other misinformation. When dealing with AI, we are wise to employ the same phrase that Ronald Reagan used when he was negotiating a nuclear arms reduction  treaty with the Soviet Union in the 1980s: “Trust but verify.” 

The importance of getting trombone research right isn’t on the level of working to prevent nuclear war. But for a student who relies on AI, the consequence of a failing grade, or being responsible for continuing to perpetuate falsehoods, ought to be enough to cause one to think twice, then three times, then four times, or seventy-times-seven times before trusting anything AI delivers. If you’re a college professor, please consider forwarding this article to your students and on your social media platforms. We must recognize the limitations of artificial intelligence. We must get the world out. As ChatGPT said:

AI is a fallible research assistant, not an oracle.

That’s the most accurate thing I’ve heard from ChatGPT in a long time.

Honoring Joannès Rochut in Paris

Honoring Joannès Rochut in Paris

by Douglas Yeo (September 12, 2025) — Cet article paraît en français ci-dessous.

Trombonists around the world are well acquainted with the life and work of Joannès Rochut (1881–1952). Readers of TheLastTrombone may remember the several articles I wrote about him here:

Since 1928, trombone players have relied on Rochut’s three volumes of Melodious Etudes for Trombone, adapted from the vocalises of Marco Bordogni, as important material for development of legato and expressive styles. In January 2025, the International Trombone Association Journal published its largest issue to date, which included my 70-page article, “More Than Bordogni: The Life, Work, and Influence of Joannès Rochut.” In the course of my research, I connected with Rochut’s great-granddaughter, Julie Rochut. From her home in Paris, Julie generously shared family photographs and information—much of it gleaned from conversations with her father, Bernard, and her uncle, Jean-Jacques—that greatly enriched my work.

The entrance to Bagneux Cemetery, France.

In August 2025, my wife, Patricia, and I traveled to Paris to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary. The trip gave me the chance to meet Julie in person and thank her for her invaluable help. As our plans to meet unfolded, we agreed to gather at the final resting place of Joannès Rochut and his wife, Louise, in Bagneux Cemetery, just south of Paris.

Douglas Yeo with members of the Rochut family at Bagneux Cemetery, France. Left to right: Douglas Yeo, Sophie Rochut, Bernard Rochut, Arthur Allouti-Rochut, Inès Allouti-Rochut, Julie Rochut. August 23, 2025.

Benny Sluchin—my friend and colleague and co-recipient along with me of the International Trombone Association’s 2024 Lifetime Achievement Award—had previously visited the cemetery, photographing Rochut’s grave for my article. Benny joined Patricia and me on our visit, where we were welcomed by several members of the Rochut family: Bernard Rochut (grandson of Joannès), Julie and her sister Sophie (great-granddaughters), and Sophie’s children, Inès and Arthur Allouti-Rochut (great-great-grandchildren).

Commemorative plaque commissioned by Douglas Yeo for the grave of Joannès Rochut (2025).

Ahead of our trip, I commissioned a commemorative plaque for Rochut’s grave to honor his enduring influence. I installed on behalf of the ITA and the Boston Symphony Orchestra; the marker bears the following text:

Joannès Rochut

1881–1952

The International Trombone Association and

Boston Symphony Orchestra honor Joannès Rochut

For his lasting contributions to musical art.

 

L’Association Internationale du Trombone et

l’Orchestre Symphonique de Boston rendent hommage à Joannès Rochut

Pour ses contributions durables à l’art musical.

 

Principal trombonist, Boston Symphony Orchestra, 1925–1930

Arranger, “Melodious Etudes for Trombone,” 1928

Recipient, ITA Legacy Circle Award, 2021

This is the second commemoration of Rochut’s work that appears at his grave. The grave also includes a tribute to Rochut from his colleagues at Radiodifussion-télévision française (R.T.F.), where he served as Régisseur général des Orchestres (general manager) from 1935 until his death in 1952. This beautiful tribute—carved in stone in the shape of an open book—reads:

SOUVENIR

REGIE DES ORCHESTRAS DE LA R.T.F.

(A remembrance from the Management of the Orchestras of the R.T.F.)

 

Tribute to Joannès Rochut by his colleagues at Radiodiffusion-télévision française.

At the gravesite, Bernard Rochut brought forth several photographs of Joannès, a photograph of a valve trombone Rochut had owned, and an eight-page hand-written letter Rochut sent in 1930 to his son, Robert, just before Joannès concluded his tenure with the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

Joannès Rochut riding motorcycle with his son Robert. Undated photo from Bernard Rochut.

The Rochut family also holds additional music manuscripts in Rochut’s hand which they plan to share with me for possible future publication. These materials will form the basis of a forthcoming update to my earlier article.

Inscription on the grave of Joannès Rochut.

As we look ahead to the 150th anniversary of Rochut’s birth in 2031, it is especially meaningful to see his great-great-grandchildren continuing in his path: Inès (trombone) and Arthur (percussion) are members of the Paris Opera’s first youth orchestra, Apprentissage de l’orchestre. Their love of music reminds us that Rochut’s legacy is not only preserved in print and performance but is also alive in the next generation of musicians who carry his name—and his influence—into the future.

The grave of Joannès and Louise Rochut, Bagneux Cemetery, France.

• • • • •

Honorer Joannès Rochut à Paris

par Douglas Yeo (12 septembre 2025)

Les trombonistes du monde entier connaissent bien la vie et l’œuvre de Joannès Rochut (1881–1952). Les lecteurs de TheLastTrombone se souviendront peut-être des plusieurs articles que j’ai écrits à son sujet:

Depuis 1928, les trombonistes s’appuient sur les trois volumes des Melodious Etudes for Trombone de Rochut, adaptés des vocalises de Marco Bordogni, comme matériel essentiel pour développer le style legato et expressif. En janvier 2025, le International Trombone Association Journal a publié son plus grand numéro à ce jour, comprenant mon article de 70 pages “More Than Bordogni: The life, work, and influence of Joannès Rochut.” Au cours de mes recherches, j’ai établi un lien avec l’arrière-petite-fille de Rochut, Julie Rochut. Depuis son domicile parisien, Julie a généreusement partagé des photographies de famille et des informations—dont une grande partie recueillie lors de conversations avec son père, Bernard, et son oncle, Jean-Jacques—qui ont considérablement enrichi mon travail.

En août 2025, mon épouse Patricia et moi nous sommes rendus à Paris pour célébrer notre 50e anniversaire de mariage. Ce voyage m’a donné l’occasion de rencontrer Julie en personne et de la remercier pour son aide inestimable. Au fil de nos conversations, nous avons convenu de nous rassembler au lieu de repos final de Joannès et de son épouse, Louise, au cimetière de Bagneux, juste au sud de Paris.

Benny Sluchin—mon ami, collègue et co-récipiendaire avec moi du Prix pour Lifetime Achievement Award par l’International Trombone Association en 2024—avait déjà visité le cimetière, photographiant la tombe de Rochut pour mon article. Benny s’est joint à Patricia et moi lors de notre visite, où nous avons été accueillis par plusieurs membres de la famille Rochut: Bernard Rochut (petit-fils de Joannès), Julie et sa sœur Sophie (arrière-petites-filles), et les enfants de Sophie, Inès et Arthur Allouti-Rochut (arrière-arrière-petits-enfants).

Avant notre voyage, j’avais commandé une plaque commémorative pour la tombe de Rochut afin d’honorer son influence durable. Je l’ai installée au nom de l’Association Internationale du Trombone et du Boston Symphony Orchestra ; elle porte l’inscription suivante:

Joannès Rochut

1881–1952

The International Trombone Association and

Boston Symphony Orchestra honor Joannès Rochut

For his lasting contributions to musical art.

 

L’Association Internationale du Trombone et

l’Orchestre Symphonique de Boston rendent hommage à Joannès Rochut

Pour ses contributions durables à l’art musical.

 

Principal trombonist, Boston Symphony Orchestra, 1925–1930

Arranger, “Melodious Etudes for Trombone,” 1928

Recipient, ITA Legacy Circle Award, 2021

Il s’agit de la deuxième commémoration de l’œuvre de Rochut figurant sur sa tombe. Elle comporte également un hommage de ses collègues de la Radiodiffusion-télévision française (R.T.F.), où il fut Régisseur général des Orchestres de 1935 jusqu’à sa mort. Ce bel hommage—gravé dans la pierre en forme de livre ouvert—porte l’inscription:

SOUVENIR

RÉGIE DES ORCHESTRES DE LA R.T.F.

Au cimetière, Bernard Rochut a présenté plusieurs photographies de Joannès, une photo d’un trombone à pistons lui ayant appartenu, ainsi qu’une lettre manuscrite de huit pages que Rochut envoya en 1930 à son fils Robert, juste avant de conclure son mandat avec le Boston Symphony Orchestra.

La famille Rochut conserve également d’autres manuscrits musicaux de sa main qu’elle prévoit de partager avec moi pour une éventuelle publication future. Ces documents formeront la base d’une prochaine mise à jour de mon article précédent.

Alors que nous nous tournons vers le 150e anniversaire de la naissance de Rochut en 2031, il est particulièrement émouvant de voir ses arrière-arrière-petits-enfants marcher dans ses pas: Inès (trombone) et Arthur (percussions) sont membres du premier orchestre de jeunes de l’Opéra de Paris, Apprentissage de l’orchestre. Leur amour de la musique nous rappelle que l’héritage de Rochut ne se conserve pas seulement dans les partitions et les concerts, mais qu’il vit également à travers la nouvelle génération de musiciens qui portent son nom—et son influence—vers l’avenir.

La famille de Robert Rochut, Marseille, France, v. 1942.

Rang arrière: Joannès Rochut, Robert Rochut (fils de Joannès). Rang avant: Jean-Jacques (fils de Robert et Arlette), Arlette (épouse de Robert), Philippe (fils de Robert et Arlette), Louise (épouse de Joannès), Bernard (fils de Robert et Arlette). Collection de la famille Rochut.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few Olympic Games surprises: Miracle and Bugler’s Dream.

A few Olympic Games surprises: Miracle and Bugler’s Dream.

by Douglas Yeo (July 29, 2025)

During my long career as bass trombonist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra (1985–2012), I participated in hundreds of recording sessions that resulted in commercially available records, CDs, and streaming. Works by Brahms (the symphonies and Ein Deutsches Requiem), Mahler (Symphonies 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10), Ravel (a dozen works), Franck (Symphonie in d minor), and many other great composers, plus dozens of recordings with the Boston Pops Orchestra. In addition, I played on three film scores recorded by the Boston Symphony Orchestra: Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan (music by John Williams) and Mystic River (music by Clint Eastwood—sort of—but there’s a story behind that for another time. . .). The recording sessions for these films remain very memorable to me.

Covers to soundtrack albums recorded by the Boston Symphony Orchestra: Schindler’s List (1993), Saving Private Ryan (1998), and Mystic River (2003)

Work rules and payments for recording sessions are governed by agreements made between orchestras and their players, and the players are represented by the American Federation of Musicians (AFM). These agreements cover working conditions for the sessions (how long they are, when and how long a break in a session occurs), and payment. I always looked at recording sessions as one of the great benefits of playing in the BSO, because not only was playing great music that would be enjoyed by the public over and over and I was  being paid my regular weekly salary as a member of the orchestra, but I received an additional payment for playing the actual recording sessions. Then, it came as a surprise to me after my first season with the BSO that every year thereafter, I received a check—usually in the summer—that represented royalty, residual, and secondary market payments for those same sessions. Recording sessions were—and are—the gift that keeps on giving to this present day.

Those annual royalty payments fluctuate up and down, and each year, I receive a detailed statement that explains the amount I am paid for each film score or orchestral recording I made. A few years ago, I noticed a new entry on my annual Film Musicians and Secondary Markets Fund statement. In addition to entries for Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan, and Mystic River, there was another movie listed: Miracle.

Promotional poster for Miracle (2004)

I didn’t remember playing any recording sessions for Miracle—a movie about the 1980 United States Winter Olympics men’s hockey team that defeated the Soviet Union’s team in the semi-final round and went on to defeat Finland to win the gold medal. But I certainly remember those Olympic games, and I had a vague recollection that a movie had been made about the team and their stunning victory. I don’t go to many movies, so it’s not surprising that I missed it.

But why was Miracle appearing on my annual film payments statement? I asked the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s manager about this and there was a simple explanation: the producers of Miracle wanted to use some music from a Boston Pops Orchestra recording in the film’s soundtrack. They didn’t need to convene a new recording session to do so. They just needed to get permission and pay royalties to the players who were on the original recording session.

As it turned out, the music that Miracle wanted to use was Bugler’s Dream by Leo Arnaud. Arnaud—who was a trombonist and successful composer and arranger who, after moving to the United States from his native France in 1931, worked on more than 160 films. Bugler’s Dream was composed in 1959. It was not “official music” for the Olympics but it was picked up and used by ABC television for their broadcast of the 1968 Winter Olympics (Grenoble, Switzerland). Since then, it has become an iconic piece that’s associated with the Olympic games.

Now, a quick aside. Since 1896, the International Olympic Committee has commissioned music for each Olympics. While Bugler’s Dream was not officially composed for the Olympics, the story of the music that was written for the games is told in William K. Guegold’s book, 100 years of Olympic Music: Music and Musicians of the Modern Olympic Games 1896–1996 (Mantua, Ohio: Golden Clef Publishing, 1996). The book, which is out of print but used copies are readily available, opens with an interview of John Williams and contains detailed commentary about music written for the Olympics including many samples of scores and other images. It’s a fascinating book.

Cover to William K. Guegold’s 100 Years of Olympic Music: Music and Musicians of the Modern Olympic Games 1896–1996

In 1996, the Boston Pops Orchestra made the official album of music for the 1996 Olympics (Atlanta, Georgia). John Williams was commissioned to write the theme music for those Olympic games, and that piece turned out to be Summon the Heroes; that was also the title of the compact disc recording that also included several other Olympic themed selections. Williams had previously written theme music for two other Olympic games: Olympic Fanfare and Theme (1984 Olympic Games, Los Angeles, California), and The Olympic Spirit ( 1988 Olympic Games, Seoul, Korea; this theme was composed for NBC’s television coverage), and in 2002, Williams wrote Call of the Champions (2002 Olympic Games, Salt Lake City, Utah).

For the broadcast of the 1996 Olympic games on NBC, John Williams created a medley that began with Arnaud’s Bugler’s Dream and continued with Williams’ own Olympic Fanfare and Theme. This mashup of two familiar Olympic related pieces proved to be very popular. So popular that many people now assume that Williams wrote Bugler’s Dream. But the recording makes clear who wrote what; there are two pieces with two composers clearly identified on the printed notes to the recording.

Page from the accompanying booklet to the CD recording, Summon the Heroes (Boston Pops Orchestra, John Williams, conductor)

You can hear this recording of the medley of  Bugler’s Dream and John Williams’ Olympic Fanfare and Theme recorded by the Boston Pops Orchestra with John Williams conducting on the 1996 recording, Summon the Heroes, HERE.

Back to Miracle. The movie about the 1980 US Olympic hockey team wanted to use Arnaud’s Bugler’s Dream, so all of a sudden, I was listed as a performer on the movie’s soundtrack. My contribution: 53 seconds of music. So, each year since 2005, I’ve received a small payment for Miracle in my annual royalty check. The other day, my wife and I finally got around to watching Miracle. It’s a terrific story that’s well told. And there it was: at the beginning of the scene where the US Olympic team gets off the bus in Lake Placid, New York (images below), you can hear the Boston Pops Orchestra playing Bugler’s Dream.

Images from the movie Miracle, showing the moment when Bugler’s Dream is heard, and the end credits.

By the way, if you purchase the soundtrack recording to Miracle, you won’t find the Boston Pops Orchestra track there. The soundtrack album only includes some original music  for the movie composed by Mark Isham (four tracks), and songs by Blue Öyster Cult, J. Geils Band, and Jay Ferguson that were used in the movie. If you want the Bugler’s Dream recording that appears on Miracle, you can purchase the Summon The Heroes recording on amazon.com; you’ll find it there as an LP, CD, or streaming on amazon music.

That’s the first Olympic Games surprise to share with you. At least it was a surprise to me to find myself with credit as a performer on another movie. But here’s another Olympic Games surprise.

A few years ago, I began researching Maurice Ravel’s iconic composition, Bolero. The result of that research will be told in my forthcoming article, “Maurice Ravel’s Bolero: A Fresh Look at a Familiar Masterpiece.” The article will be published in two parts, in the October 2025 and January 2026 issues of the International Trombone Association Journal. In the article, I discuss the origin of Bolero, its premiere and other early performances, and I offer insights and discoveries about Bolero’s famous trombone solo. I’m not going to spoil the story here—you’ll have to read the article for yourself when it comes out—but one of the things I researched were the many claims that Leo Arnaud made about Ravel and Bolero. Arnaud often told stories about his friendship with Ravel, so I wanted to investigate them.

Among the things I researched was Arnaud’s Bugler’s Dream. I wanted to mention Arnaud’s most famous composition when I wrote about him in my Bolero article, but as I always do when I write about history, I do my due diligence to verify everything I read before I write about it. As I was investigating Bugler’s Dream, I learned a lot about the piece that was new to me. And it’s probably new to you, too.

I had known about and performed Bugler’s Dreams for many years. Those 53 seconds of music are an indelible part of our Olympic  Games consciousness. During my research, I learned that Bugler’s Dream was commissioned by conductor Felix Slatkin (father of conductor Leonard Slatkin) in 1959 for the LP recording, Charge! Side 1 of the record has three compositions listed as composed by Arnaud (Charge!, Drummer Boys, and Bugler’s Dream), and side 2 has three arrangements by Arnaud (Fifes and Drums, Bagpipes and Drums, and When Johnny Comes Marching Home).

Front and back covers to Charge! (1959), conducted by Felix Slatkin

I purchased a copy of the Charge! LP and when I listened to it, there were more surprises. The 53 seconds of Bugler’s Dream that we all know and love is only the first part of the composition with that title. Bugler’s Dream is actually 3:55 long. There are five other sections to the piece, and the opening theme is not reprised. So, when we hear Bugler’s Dream on Olympic Games broadcasts, we’re hearing just the first part of the whole piece. Have a listen, below, to the complete Bugler’s Dream, the first 3:55 of this recording on YouTube:

But wait, there’s more.

As I continued researching Bugler’s Dream, there was another surprise waiting for me. Those first 53 seconds of Bugler’s Dream were not COMPOSED by Leo Arnaud. They were ARRANGED by him. While the label of the disc credits Arnaud as the composer of Bugler’s Dream—and every time the piece is recorded or played in concert, Arnaud is credited as the composer—the liner notes to Charge! tell a different story: 

Incipit about Bugler’s Dream from the back cover of Charge!

Bugler’s Dream was “derived from various bugle calls,” and is a “fantasy of classical fanfares and radically modern cadenzas.” Bugler’s Dream is an arrangement. But of what?

I dug around some more and found the source for the famous theme that is credited to Arnaud and heard by millions of people at Olympic Games. The opening theme of Bugler’s Dream was written by Joseph-David Buhl (1781–1860). Buhl was a French trumpeter and composer who revised and wrote many bugle calls for the French Military under Napoleon Bonaparte and Louis XVIII. He published a method for trumpet in 1825, and in his time was highly regarded as a player, band leader, and composer.  

One of Buhl’s bugle calls was Salut aux étendards (sonnerie triumphal) — Salute to the Standards (Triumphal Fanfare). It was recorded on the 1986 LP, Glorie à la Cavalerie, with Les Trompettes du “boute-selle” and La Fanfare du 2e Régiment de hussars, conducted by Éric Conrad. Have a listen to Buhl’s fanfare, above. You’ll immediately recognize it as the source for Bugler’s Dream.

Front and back covers to Gloire à la Cavalerie (1986), conducted by Éric Conrad

Leo Arnaud’s Bugler’s Dream begins with an arrangement of Joseph-David Buhl’s Salut aux étendards, and then moves to several more themes. I have not researched the source of these other themes but given what the liner notes to Charge! say about Bugler’s Dream — that it was “derived from various bugle calls” —  I would not be surprised if the other themes in Bugler’s Dream were composed by someone other than Arnaud, too. And wouldn’t be surprised at all  if the rest of Bugler’s Dream was also composed by Buhl. I’ll keep looking. It’s time to research French bugle calls.

Joseph-David Buhl died 165 years ago. He is not here to claim his rightful credit (and royalties, which must be considerable) for a piece that has become an iconic part of the modern Olympic Games. But the next time you hear Bugler’s Dream, tip your hat to Buhl. We can be grateful to Leo Arnaud for making Buhl’s fanfare famous to today’s ears. But we give Arnaud too much credit if we say Bugler’s Dream was composed by him. It was not. Arnaud should have given Buhl credit. Here’s how we should refer to the piece:

Joseph-David Buhl: Salut aux étendards. Arranged and adopted by Leo Arnaud as Bugler’s Dream.

Let’s give credit where credit is due.

A new/old Kruspe bass trombone: Protec to the rescue

A new/old Kruspe bass trombone: Protec to the rescue

by Douglas Yeo (April 22, 2025)

In 1986, I began a collaboration with YAMAHA Corporation to make a new bass trombone. The happy result was the YAMAHA YBL-622 dependent valve double valve bass trombone (with detachable second valve) that, several years ago, was added to YAMAHA’s Xeno trombone line and renamed the YAMAHA YBL-822G bass trombone. Over the years, I’ve continued to try other bass trombones by many different makers. I like to know what is on the market and how those instruments play. I want to play a bass trombone what works best for me but every time I try something else, I keep coming back to my YAMAHA. That instrument works best for me.

Detail of the bell and slide of a Kruspe bass trombone, showing the Schlangenverzierung (“snake garland”).

That said, I love the history of the trombone, and I’ve always enjoyed playing and hearing trombones made by great German makers like Heckel and Kruspe that were made in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This school of trombone manufacturing is considered a “golden age” of trombone craftsmanship, and these old German trombones are things of beauty, both visually and aurally. They have a unique sound, a truly beautiful sound that blends with rotary valve trumpets and the other winds of the orchestra in a unique way. And visually, there is nothing like the beautiful Schlangenverzierung, or “snake garland” that is found at the top of the bell section and on the hand slide bow (photos above). The artistic design of ferrules, the wrap of the F-attachment, and the leather thumb strap (rather than a fixed, metal linkage) that operates the F-attachment valve add to the beauty of these instruments.

Douglas Yeo and Jay Friedman with some of Jay’s Kruspe trombones, September 9, 2019.

My friend, Jay Friedman, principal trombonist of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, has an extensive collection of vintage Kruspe trombones, and we often talk about the unique qualities of these iconic instruments.

I played a Kruspe bass trombone during my last seasons as a member of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Five vintage Kruspe trombones—an alto, two tenors, an F-attachment tenor, and a single valve bass—came on the market in 2007 and I persuaded the management of the BSO to purchase them. I loved playing that Kruspe bass trombone, and I used the BSO’s Kruspe bass whenever we played German repertoire from the 18th through 19th centuries. Music of Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, Schumann, Schubert, Brahms and their compatriots. Whether my colleagues were using a modern alto and smaller bore tenor trombone, or using the Kruspe alto and a tenor, or an alto and tenor trombone by the modern German maker, Thein, the Kruspe bass blended spectacularly with all of them.

Members of the Boston Symphony Orchestra trombone section, c. 1905, with Holton trombones. Left to right: Leroy Kenfield, bass; Anton Mausebach, second; Carl Hampe, principal.

It’s interesting to note, from an historical perspective, that the American musical instrument makers Frank Holton and C. G. Conn modeled their early 20th century trombones after instruments made by great German makers. This photograph (above) of members of the Boston Symphony Orchestra trombone section (Leroy Kenfield, bass; Anton Mausebach, second; Carl Hampe, principal) was taken around 1905 and they are all playing Holton trombones made in the German style. Likewise, iconic instruments like the Conn 70H bass trombone (including the prized Conn Fuchs model bass trombone) were based on earlier German models. The beauty of sound of these instruments—many factors go into this but they include the bell taper, the bore size, and the type of brass used—is something to behold, and while modern trombonists often favor playing with more “muscle,” there is a lot to be said for the exceptional quality of these German style instruments in the hands of a player who is truly interested in blending into rather than dominating the orchestral texture.

Douglas Yeo’s final bow in Symphony Hall (with Kruspe bass trombone) as a member of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, May 8, 2012. Performance of Beethoven Symphony No. 9. Also shown (standing) are concertmaster Malcolm Lowe (clapping) and conductor Bernard Haitink. 

When I retired from the Boston Symphony Orchestra in 2012, I had to leave that Kruspe bass trombone behind. However, it makes me smile when I remember that the last concert I played in Boston’s Symphony Hall in May, 2012, was the Symphony No. 9 by Ludwig van Beethoven conducted by Bernard Haitink (photo above). I had used BSO’s Kruspe bass trombone for that performance and my final bow in Symphony Hall with the orchestra.

Earlier this year, I played bass trombone with the Atlanta Symphony in performances of Beethoven Symphony No. 5. Acting principal trombonist Nathan Zgnoc played a Thein alto trombone and acting second trombonist Jason Robins played a Conn 8H (that instrument, now owned by Nathan, had previously been owned by Keith Brown). For those performances, I used my YAMAHA YBL-601 Vienna style bass trombone, a dual-bore, single valve bass trombone made in the classic German tradition that, unfortunately, is no longer part of YAMAHA’s trombone catalogue. Our blend worked very nicely in those performances, but knowing I would be returning to the ASO in May 2025 for performances of Beethoven’s Missa solemnis, I began a quest to fulfill a dream and acquire a vintage bass trombone made by the workshop of Eduard Kruspe of Erfurt, Germany.

My bass trombone by Kruspe. There is no serial number on the instrument although the number “3” is stamped on the bell receiver.

The bell engraving on my Kruspe bass trombone.

Happily, my search didn’t take long, and in a short time a 100-year old Kruspe single valve bass trombone—of the same vintage as that Kruspe bass I played in the Boston Symphony Orchestra—arrived on my doorstep thanks to Noah Gladstone who runs The Brass Ark in California. Like the BSO’s Kruspe, this instrument is spectacular, and after a little TLC from both Noah and my local brass technician (no, he is much more than a technician, he is an artist, actually), Dana Hofer, I began to get to know my new instrument. Happy times.

The original wooden case for my Kruspe bass trombone.

My Kruspe bass trombone came in its original wooden case which works quite well but the case is extremely compact (photos above). When I travel by airplane with my trombone, I always bring it onboard (the case for my YAMAHA YBL-822G is very compact) and put it in an overhead compartment, but you never never know when a flight attendant will be less than thrilled to see a trombone in an overhead bin and I might be required to check my trombone as baggage. Because of this, I always pack my trombone in its case as if it had to be checked as baggage, just in case. Fortunately, my YAMAHA YBL-822G case travels very well as checked baggage (with the addition of a styrofoam cone in the bell, the instrument has never suffered damage when I check it as baggage; see my FAQ on my website about traveling with a trombone for some tips). However, while the original Kruspe case is great for normal use of the trombone, it is so compact that I am not confident it would protect my trombone well enough if it ended up as checked baggage.

The slide of my Kruspe bass trombone placed in my YAMAHA YBL-822G bass trombone case.

Unfortunately, solving this dilemma of how to transport my Kruspe bass trombone while flying is not as simple as putting my Kruspe bass trombone in my YAMAHA bass trombone case. As you can see in the photo above, the slide to my Kruspe bass trombone is very long; 35 1/2″ long. My YAMAHA trombone slide is 32″ long. This is typical of these vintage German trombones, and early Conn trombones as well. Their slides are long while their bell sections are short.

Three bass trombone slides, top to bottom: Kruspe bass trombone, Conn 70H bass trombone (made in 1921), Yamaha YBL-822G bass trombone. The black plastic attachment on the Kruspe and Yamaha slides supports a Neotech hand brace.

Trombonists who want a modern trombone case that will fit an historical German bass trombone with a long hand slide do not have many options. I searched a long time to find such a case and happily, Protec came to the rescue.

There are many manufacturers who make aftermarket trombone cases and gig bags. I’m not a fan of gig bags. The risk of damage to a trombone in a soft or semi-hard trombone case is simply too high. I use a rigid trombone case at all times.

My search to find an aftermarket trombone case to fit my Kruspe bass trombone took some time to reach a good result. Manufacturers make their cases to be as compact as possible. Bass trombone cases are manufactured to fit standard 32″ long trombone slides. The additional 3 1/2″ length of the Kruspe slide meant that a case had to be longer. Most bass trombone cases top out at 36″ length and with the padding inside the case, that’s just not long enough to accommodate a 35 1/2″ bass trombone slide. I searched up for a case that had a length that would accommodate the Kruspe slide. And I finally found one: the Protec MAX contoured case.

The Protec MAX bass trombone case. Photos courtesy of Protec.

The Protec MAX contoured case is made with EPS styrofoam covered with plush velvet; the outside is covered with durable nylon fabric. With the case’s 38″ length, I thought it might accommodate my Kruspe slide. I called Protec and spent some time talking with Michael Corter. We discussed all of the interior dimensions of the case. As manufactured, the Protec MAX’s compartment for the bass trombone slide was made for a standard 32″ slide. But Michael sent me some photos of the case and I saw that with a slight modification, I could lengthen the slide compartment by a few inches by cutting away some of the styrofoam. It was worth a try.

The interior of my Protec MAX case, showing the cutout I made to accommodate the long Kruspe bass trombone slide tenon.

The result turned out to be exactly what I wanted. With a razor blade, I cut away some of the slide compartment foam so it would fit the long slide tenon of my Kruspe bass trombone. Then, I covered the exposed styrofoam with self-adhesive velvet flocked fabric. This is available from amazon.com for $12.99 for 20 sheets, in black and many other colors. After I cut and applied this fabric to the case, everything looked clean and neat and my Kruspe trombone slide fit nicely in the case. The Protec MAX case also has two storage compartments inside the case, a large storage pocket on the outside of the case, backpack straps (that can be hidden under a fabric panel), and a shoulder strap. Most of all, my Kruspe bass trombone is well protected, ready for my next flight.

My Protec MAX case with my Kruspe bass trombone.

If you have a vintage Conn bass trombone or an historical German bass trombone that has a long slide that will not fit in your modern bass trombone case, Protec has a case for you. I also want to say this as well: My experience with Protec was superb in every way. My conversation with Michael Corter was extremely helpful and informative. Protec’s customer service was outstanding. The case was well packed for shipment and it arrived on my doorstep in perfect condition. The workmanship of the Protec case is also superb. The zippers work easily, the interior storage compartments open and close smoothly, and look at the price of the Protec MAX bass trombone case (it comes with free shipping!) on the Protec website—it is a very affordable product. Props to Protec for making this case, and for manufacturing it in such a way that a user can make modifications to it very easily. 

Protec also makes a full line of trombone cases (and cases for other instruments) and case accessories. Visit their website to see all of their products.

Now, it’s time to get back to practicing my part for Beethoven’s Missa solemnis. As an aside, I recently wrote an article about Missa solemnis for the blog hosted by my church, New Covenant Church of Naperville, Illinois. The article is titled, The Nicene Creed, Beethoven, and the Power of a Small Word. Have a look. There is something about how Beethoven set the Credo to his Missa solemnis that I find truly remarkable.

Beethoven. Kruspe. Protec. A good combination!