Neville Young, reporter

Dear Reader, you had to be there. It seems a terrible cop-out for a writer to say “you had to be there” and yet, and yet … this concert is going to be near impossible to report on, explain, categorize: it defies these processes. Picture the scene. A slightly baffled board member has just introduced the group but was unable to say anything about the programme, having been told by Mnozil that the only information available is the advice just to sit back, relax, and enjoy it. The board member retires in confusion; the audience sits expectantly for a moment then the ensemble enters to warm applause, which dies into hesitation then laughter as the musicians (three trumpets, three trombones and tuba, but subject to change without notice) enter, some frowning, all nonchalant, perhaps almost threatening, and somehow just do the opposite of starting a concert. They space themselves out and gaze at us, and we at them. An impasse is reached - no one picks up an instrument; they scowl or look bored: we wait. Suddenly a musician walks downstage centre and declaims a nice little poem about celebrations; it's in German, we smile politely and the bafflement continues; moments later another comes down and tells us something that may have been interesting but it's in Hungarian so few of us will ever know. Someone else comes out and demonstrates, with gruesome sound effects, what seems to be a scary self-administered chiropractic procedure (please don't try this at home) and a fourth player comes down to say or do something, but chickens out and returns shamefacedly to his place. Is this weird enough for you yet? Stay with me, it gets worse. I should add that by now much of the audience is in hysterics: Mnozil have great comedy moves and timing, the clowning is, well, perfect - and they still haven't played a note. But hang on: instruments are being picked up - pretty grudgingly by some it seems - and a musical performance is starting, as we effortlessly run into a beautiful rendition of Moon River, starting lyrical and tender but climaxing with searing lead playing that makes you go “uh?” as you suddenly realize that these really funny people are really serious players. And that's the pattern set for your evening. Mnozil are incredible, superb, top-flight brass players who also happen to be running a surreal comedy ensemble, and the only thing you can be sure about is that you can't be sure about anything, but that whatever it is that you are being unsure about at any given moment, it's being performed with amazing skill and panache. Are you following me? No?? Good - then you're starting to experience the concert with us a little. But, really, you had to be there.

You had to be there. Any attempt to give you a blow-by-blow account of the concert is doomed to dismal failure but before I give up on the hopeless effort to describe what we experienced, let me just offer a few more little signposts along the way. We witnessed at least two funerals; one, that passed invisibly between ensemble and audience, was so sad that it reduced the first trumpet to helpless sobbing: in the second the corpse was all too visible and indeed audible as he played a touching elegy to himself while being carried (and accompanied) by his colleagues. They didn't let him get away with a try for a third funeral, however, but instead, losing patience with the drama, rather callously carted him off and propped the sad remains against a wall. Another little moment for you: I'm pretty sure I've heard the slow movement of the Haydn Concerto performed at ITG Conferences a couple of times before, but surely I would have remembered if it had been played by a recorder ensemble? Really rather well? With the instruments up the players' right nostrils? Yeah, I'd remember that. Later we had a Latin performance with stunning high and busy brass playing, interspersed with, well, chicken impersonations. This somehow mutated into a big Eastern European thing, acquired a Dies Irae along the way, swung southwards to somewhere in the region of Turkey and then turned into Caravan. You couldn't see how or why, it just happened. We had pretty much every tune in the classical repertoire, some fantastic singing (did I detect the merest hint of the Comedian Harmonists there?), an apparently insane guard captain inspecting his troops in between his monster trumpet solos; we had flirting, weeping (quite a lot of weeping actually), more flirting, and more recorders (please don't ask). Shivering men stood round a little fire of - oh, they're trumpets - and rolled imaginary cigarettes; an incredible display of multiphonics accompanied a rather nicely played Singing in the Rain. In fact, come to think if it, it was rather nicely danced too: these people can really move. We saw some lousy juggling - I hope it was genuine because perhaps there we may just have seen one thing they can't do. A huge chunk of the Light Cavalry Overture didn't know when to stop (try playing just the first six notes of the well-known theme over and over again - it's irresistible) but still managed to end up in Dixieland; a stirring Morricone-style trumpet solo got bogged down in unfeasibly long trills and expired with a whimper. Posturing macho trumpet players (of the sort we all of course hate) screamed out top Zs then preened before the roaring audience. Star Wars, James Bond and Fiddler on the Roof were all paid brief visits, and Abba's classic Fernando a somewhat longer one. All human life was here, or at any rate an interesting and entertaining enough cross-section through it to keep the audience eating out of the hands of this very skilled ensemble. At the end the group made as if to leave more than once but I'd have feared for the safety of the audience and building without an encore or several, which we duly got. Among these the jewel in the crown was undoubtedly an impeccable performance of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, with fine singing, instrumental sections (naturally) and even some nice air guitar, again something you don't see that often at ITG. You had to be there.

You had to be there. That's almost 1000 words of trying to explain the inexplicable and I still haven't come close to defining what this concert was like and why you simply must see this ensemble (DVDs are available, (www.mnozilbrass.at) but live will take some beating) whenever and wherever you get the chance. Have I mentioned that you had to be there? Oh yes. This show was a wonderful highlight of the Conference for me and, judging by the buzz afterwards, for many others. Host Bryan Appleby-Wineberg has performed an incredible public service by putting them on at ITG: I really must say thanks Bryan, and come back soon Mnozil. To summarize, perhaps two words might suffice where a thousand have failed: indescribably good!

Be sure to visit the photo gallery for this event!