Triumphant Brass: A Blast from the Past That Still Kicks Ass
Alright, let’s get straight to it. Triumphant Brass by The Black Dyke Mills Band isn’t just some dusty old record collecting mold in your granddad’s attic—it’s a brass-heavy punch to the gut that still holds up today. Released in 1972 on Pye Golden Guinea Records (yeah, I know, sounds like something out of Harry Potter), this album is pure UK brass badassery with enough swagger to make even modern big band acts look like amateurs.
First off, props where they’re due—conductors Geoffrey Brand and Roy Newsome didn’t mess around. They brought their A-game, and you can hear it in every track. But if I had to pick two tracks that stick with me? Easy: “Cornet Carillon” and “Triumphant Rhapsody.” Let’s break ‘em down.
“Cornet Carillon” hits hard right outta the gate. It’s not just music—it’s an assault on your eardrums, but in the best way possible. The cornets come at you like a swarm of angry bees, buzzing with precision and power. You don’t listen to this track; it demands your attention. And honestly? It’s kinda impossible not to hum along after hearing those sharp, staccato blasts. This one sticks because it’s got attitude—like the band knew they were showing off and didn’t care who knew it.
Then there’s “Triumphant Rhapsody,” which lives up to its name in spades. If “Cornet Carillon” is all about attack, this one’s more like a slow burn that builds into an absolute monster. Around halfway through, the whole thing explodes into this massive wall of sound that feels like standing too close to a jet engine. It’s loud, brash, and unapologetically over-the-top—and damn, does it work. Every time I hear it, I’m reminded why brass bands ruled back in the day. No synths, no auto-tune—just raw talent flexing its muscles.
Now, sure, the other tracks have their moments too. “Academic Festival Overture” has these sweeping sections that feel almost cinematic, while “Hungarian March” throws in some legit foot-stomping energy. But let’s be real here—the stars are “Cornet Carillon” and “Triumphant Rhapsody.” Everything else is just gravy.
So what’s my take? This album ain’t perfect. Some parts drag a bit, and yeah, maybe it’s a little dated now. But screw perfection—it’s got heart, grit, and enough firepower to knock you flat. Listening to Triumphant Brass feels like stepping into a time machine set for 1972 Britain, where guys wore flared trousers and thought smoking indoors was cool. Weirdly enough, though, as aggressive as this album is, it also feels oddly comforting. Like finding an old leather jacket in the back of your closet and realizing it still fits perfectly.
Final thought? Screw Spotify playlists—go dig up a copy of this bad boy. Trust me, your neighbors will either love you or hate you for playing it. Either way, mission accomplished.
