Yeah, I can attest to the fact that tuba players don’t score high on the* “panties thrown onstage”* scale.
I learned to play piano by ear at an early age. My older sister was a gifted concert and jazz pianist, and I guess some of that rubbed off on me. I don’t play much any more, but I can still crank out some boogie woogie when asked.
I joined school band late, in middle school. I wanted to play a cool instrument like keyboards, or guitar (I got an electric guitar from the Sears catalog the year before and taught myself to play reasonably well), or even trumpet (Louie Armstrong was still a cool cat in the 60’s).
But, nooo, the school band teacher said he only had only one instrument left for me to play—the tuba!
*Dagnabbit, I don’t want to play that frickin’ lame instrument! *
But the teacher sweetened the deal and told me I could play electric bass in jazz band if I played sousaphone in marching band and tuba in concert band.
Well, ok, I’ll take the bad in order to get the good. I loved bass guitar. Not quite as awesome as lead guitar, but Sir Paul attracted plenty of girls playing bass, so, what the heck.
Now, don’t get me wrong, the tuba is a fine instrument. But, for a pubescent middle school twit hoping to up his ante in the chick-magnet sphere of things, “tuba” is about the last instrument you can choose to accomplish that goal. It scores below cow-bell and glockenspiel.
I hated marching band! Lugging around that sousaphone was a pain in the ass and I got no respect. Yeah, I got panties thrown at me—dude’s dirty tighty-whities along with other garbage thrown into the bell of my sousaphone by idiots while I marched (usually out of step) in the pre-game parades.
I endured concert band on the tuba, but it didn’t go well. First song of the first concert was Thus Spake Zarathustra. I had the opening bars playing solo and I started on the wrong note. I knew it was the wrong note, but I was too frozen by embarrassment to change it. The conductor/band leader’s face turned red with anger. That sucked.
But, at least I had jazz band playing electric bass to look forward to. Jazz band started in Spring. Except the band leader left in winter for a better gig and was replaced by a guy with horn-rimmed glasses and a crew cut. I knew that was trouble. And, sure enough, the new guy told me he didn’t want an electric bass in jazz band, I had to play upright bass!
Fuck me, another giant instrument with zero chic-magnet appeal!
I did get to play the Hammond B3 organ with Leslie speaker later in high school jazz band, so that was ok. I got some “cool” redemption playing Santana’s Black Magic Woman.
And I later played electric piano and synth in a college band for chump change. I even got to play electric bass in another group (I played a mean Come Together). Never got to play lead guitar, though. No panties were ever thrown my way.
As far as I can tell, the original long-hair “rock star” was Franz Liszt. Lisztomania was over a century before Beatlemania. I would not be surprised to learn ol’ Franz got a fair share of Victorian era pantaloons thrown on his stage to his mesmerizing cadenzas, octaves and “flying trapeze” style of piano playing.
Liszt was the ultimate cool cat, man! And, he never played lead guitar.