Category: musical instruments

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.

A dragon-bell trombone solo x one million people

by Douglas Yeo (December 13, 2025)

I don’t use any form of social media – Facebook, Instagram, and all the rest. I have my reasons for this but I understand that many people find it useful and helpful. Actually, there was a short time in my life when I did use Facebook. That was during the years I was Professor of Trombone at Arizona State University, 2012–2026. At that time, a Facebook page for our trombone studio was a great way to get out the message of what we were doing at ASU. It also was helpful for recruitment, and parents always seemed to enjoy the photos and videos I would post that included their children. But that was it for me and social media – when I retired from ASU, that was the end of my social media engagement.

Now and then, a friend or colleague will reach out to me and let me know that someone posted something about me, and now and then I hear from people who tag me on social media, wondering why I didn’t respond to them. Well, I don’t use social media; I never saw their tag!

Segue: Last week, I (Douglas Yeo) visited my friend, Dana Hofer, who owns Dana Hofer Brass Repair in Des Plaines, Illinois. He is the go to person for brass players in the Chicago area when they need an instrument fixed. Since we moved here in 2018, I’ve made many trips to his shop to get various instruments repaired. He’s a great technician, a decent, honorable, fair-minded person, and runs his business like he cares for and about his customers and their instruments. Because he does.

Earlier this year, I acquired a bell to a 200 year old buccin, a “dragon-bell” trombone made by Jean-Baptiste Tabard in Lyon, France. Tabard was active as a maker in the early nineteenth century and the buccin was popular in French military bands at that time. I’ve written about the buccin on TheLastTrombone. I recorded a video of me playing a buccin by Tabard at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. I’ve also written the entry about the buccin for The Grove Dictionary of Musical Instruments and several other publications.

The logo of the International Trombone Association, based on a buccin by Tabard owned by New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, Massachusetts.

And. . . the buccin is the official logo of the International Trombone Association. That logo appears on the plaque I received in 2014 when I received the International Trombone Association’s ITA Award. It hangs on the wall above the desk where I am writing this blog post.

At its founding in 1972, the ITA adopted a stylized buccin logo based on a buccin in the collection of New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, where I taught for 27 years when I was a member of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. And the maker of NEC’s buccin? Tabard. So, now I own a buccin that is a cousin to the one at New England Conservatory of Music, and the ITA’s logo has even more meaning to me.

The buccin bell I recently acquired was in very rough shape when it arrived on my doorstep. It was heavily dented, it was missing a brace, another brace had come loose at its flange, and it was covered with two centuries of patina and grime. But I knew that the right person could resurrect it. I asked Dana if he could restore the bell so I could play it. He agreed, and last week, he called and told me it was ready. I went to his shop to pick it up.

I love playing the buccin. I think it’s the coolest trombone ever made. It’s wonky looking and wonky sounding. And because the bell is over your head and not in front of you, you don’t have the bell as a guide to find slide positions. Imagine playing trombone with your eyes closed. That’s how you REALLY get to know the trombone. Playing it is a really fun challenge.

When I dropped the bell off for Dana to restore, I gave him a slide to my other buccin bell by François Sautermeister of Lyon, a slide that had been made for me by Jim Becker (formerly of Osmun Music in the Boston area, now with YAMAHA in New York City). I asked Dana to make a new receiver for that slide so it would fit on my newly acquired Tabard buccin.

Douglas Yeo’s buccin by Jean Baptiste Tabard, Lyon. Bell restored by Dana Hofer. Slide by James Becker after an original at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

When I saw my buccin at Dana’s shop last week, I was absolutely thrilled with his restoration. The dents were gone, a new brace was in place, the centuries of grime had been removed and I had a beautiful instrument in my hands. Here are some “before and after” photos:

Of course, I wanted to play it right away. After tooting a couple of arpeggios – and noticing that it played in A, not B-flat – Dana said, “Hey, let’s make a video for Instagram.” “Sure,” I said. Dana gave his iPhone to Sam Park, who works with Dana at the shop, and Sam took a video of me playing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” It was the first piece I’d ever played on the buccin and that was that.

It was over in 30 seconds. I went home and moved on to some other things.

A little later in the day, Dana texted to say he had posted the video on Instagram and Facebook. If you want to see the video, go to Dana Hofer Brass on Instagram, or Dana Hofer Brass Repair on Facebook. I also put it on my own YouTube channel so I could link the video to this blog post. Here’s the video:

Two hours later, Dana texted me again with a screenshot of his Instagram feed. He wrote:

Just so you know, the Instagram is blowing up. These are pretty high numbers for me.

The video had 13,400 views in two hours. I shook my head. I don’t know how Instagram works, but that seemed wild. Over the course of the week, the numbers kept climbing. Then, this morning, December 13, 2025, Dana texted me with an update and he sent me a message with the screenshot below:

Looks like we might hit 1 million today.

The Instagram feed for Dana Hofer Brass, 11:01 am, December 13, 2025. 997,000 views. Dana Hofer on the left; Douglas Yeo on the right.

Seriously? 997k views? 997,000? Nearly a MILLION views of this video? With 60,800 “likes” and 29,100 shares? I couldn’t believe it.

Sure enough, the video hit a MILLION views this afternoon. Here’s a screenshot Dana sent when the video hit that milestone:

The Instagram feed for Dana Hofer Brass, 12:56 pm, December 13, 2025. 1 million views.

There you go. 1M. 1 million people have watched me play “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” on a two hundred year old buccin. That. Is. Bonkers. You never know when something like this will happen. I was just trying out my new/old trombone. I wasn’t looking for a global audience. I wasn’t planning to play for one million people. And full disclosure: There’s nothing in this for me; there’s no money involved. But I’m thrilled that the buccin has a new audience, and most of all I’m happy for the publicity this has generated for Dana Hofer and his shop. A happy result of this is he’s gained hundreds of new followers for his Instagram and Facebook accounts, and if that results in more people using his services, that’s great news. If you’re in the Chicago area and you need a terrific brass instrument repair person, Dana Hofer — Dana Hofer Brass Repair — is the person you’ll want to see.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you, friends—all 1 million of you—from Dana Hofer, my buccin, and me.

Dizzy Gillespie and the serpent – 1955

by Douglas Yeo (May 31, 2025)

I’ve been playing the serpent—the musical instrument, not the reptile—since 1994. I’ve told the story of how I came to play the serpent—in recitals, chamber music groups, in the Boston Symphony Orchestra, in early music groups—in many places at many times. Including on The Last Trombone : HERE, HERE, and HERE. And you can hear me play the serpent in a recital I gave in 2022 at Wheaton College, Illinois. Click HERE to hear me perform Clifford Bevan’s Variations on “The Pesky Sarpent” for serpent and piano. The serpent has brought me connections with music and musicians I never would have crossed paths with had I confined my musical interests to the trombone.

Organist Joseph Balistreri with the Missa Sicca Schola Cantorum, University of Notre Dame, April 27, 2015.

For example, when organist Joseph Balistreri gave a recital on April 27, 2025 at in the Basilica at University of Notre Dame, he contacted me and asked if I could play serpent on the concert. I was happy to do so, to play some seventeenth-century chant with the Missa Sicca Schola Cantorum. Click HERE and you’ll be directed to a page with information about Joseph’s recital along with a link to the livestream recording and the program.

I’ve written widely about the serpent (including a book about the instrument, Serpents, Bass Horns, and Ophicleides in the Bate Collection, published by University of Oxford in 2019) and I’ve collected many photographs, postcards, and original works of art that depict the serpent. For many years, I’ve been aware of a photograph of the great jazz trumpet player, Dizzy Gillespie, playing a serpent. I’ve seen a few low quality scans of the photograph in various places on the internet, but I like to see both context and size of images. Once I learned that the photo appeared in the December 29, 1955 issue of JET magazine, I kept my eye out for a copy of that issue.

The cover of the December 29, 1955 issue of JET magazine.

Last week, I found one. JET was a magazine published between 1951 through 2016 for the African American community. The magazine was a mix of photos, commentary, and news, and when I opened my mail the other day and held the issue in my hands, smiled. I had not imagined the magazine was so small – only 6 inches by 4 inches.

The copy of JET that I purchased had suffered damage. The two staples that held the issue together had rusted and that rust bled throughout the center of the magazine’s pages. But the photo of Dizzy Gillespie, happily, was not affected by the rust. And there he was, on page 32. I think this is a terrific photo, something completely outside the box.

Pages 32 and 33 of the December 29, 1955 issue of JET magazine.

Dizzy Gillespie playing a serpent, from the December 29, 1955 issue of JET magazine.

I don’t have anything to add to this photo than what is in the caption. The Odd Horn Shop is no longer in New York City and Dizzy Gillespie died in 1993. But I’ll relate this story of my one encounter with the great jazz player with the bent trumpet . . .

In 1991, Dizzy Gillespie was given an honorary doctorate at New England Conservatory of Music. I was serving on the Conservatory’s faculty at the time, and I was also Chair of the Conservatory’s Brass and Percussion Department. I attended the commencement ceremony that year, and from my seat on stage in Jordan Hall at NEC, Dizzy Gillespie was only a few feet away from me. Then his name was called, Gillespie went to the front of the platform and received his honorary degree and said a few words. But what happened next was something I’ll never forget. Whenever a jazz major came forward to receive his degree, Dizzy Gillespie—one of the greatest musicians in the world—stood up, went up the the graduate, shook hands, and posed for a photo. Gillespie was smiling from ear to ear, and I can only imagine how meaningful this personal gesture was to the graduates who stood on stage with their arm around the shoulder of this jazz great. It told me something about Dizzy Gillespie that his recordings can’t fully express: he loved life and he loved people, and he shared that love with others in very tangible ways. I wasn’t playing serpent when he came to NEC’s commencement in 1991, but if I had, I like to think I would have brought my serpent to the ceremony and asked Dizzy to play a chorus. I bet he would have done that. Serpentine bop.

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!

The Last Trombone – Douglas Yeo