Guggenmusik by Sumpfhühner: A Chaotic Brass Explosion from 1981
Let’s get one thing straight—this ain’t your grandma’s jazz record. Nope. Guggenmusik by Sumpfhühner is a wild ride into the heart of Swiss brass chaos, where sousaphones rumble like thunder and trumpets scream louder than an overcaffeinated rooster. Released in 1981 under the mysterious “Not On Label,” this album feels less like music and more like a carnival that got lost on its way to the parade grounds.
The band's lineup reads like a who’s who of quirky instrument mastery. You’ve got Ritter Carlo wailing on alto saxophone, Morf Hasy blowing life into cornets, and Christoph Schifferli not only directing but also doubling down on trumpet duties. And don’t even get me started on Heinz Böhni’s sousaphone—it’s so deep it might as well be digging tunnels. The whole crew sounds like they stumbled out of some alpine barn after too much mulled wine, but weirdly? It works.
Now let’s talk tracks because, honestly, there are too many good ones to cover all at once. First up: “Miss Piggy.” Yeah, you read that right. This track slaps harder than Kermit could ever dream of. It starts with a trombone riff so bold it feels like someone shouting across a mountain valley. Then BAM—the horns kick in, and suddenly you’re caught in this whirlwind of swaggering brass lines. Alto sax and tenor sax trade punches like two old farmers arguing over whose cow is bigger. By the time the cymbals crash in (shoutout Wiggi Bachmann), you’ll feel like Miss Piggy herself just strutted through your living room. Unforgettable? Absolutely.
Then there’s “Wayne Small,” which somehow manages to sound both chaotic and meticulously planned—a true Swiss miracle. Named after what I assume is either a basketball player or a guy named Wayne who happens to be small, this tune marches forward with military precision. Timpani rolls courtesy of Ernst Haefeli set the stage for Albert Fluor’s trombone solos, which bounce around like rubber balls in a pinball machine. Halfway through, the trumpets take over, led by Armin Müller and Christoph Schifferli, turning the whole thing into a triumphant anthem for no particular reason. It’s the kind of song that makes you wanna grab a flag and start marching—even if you have no idea where you’re going.
What sticks with me most about Guggenmusik isn’t just the technical skill (though, wow, these guys can play). It’s the sheer joy dripping off every note. These dudes aren’t trying to reinvent anything—they’re just having fun making noise together. And yeah, sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it feels like they’re improvising half the time. But isn’t that what makes it great? It’s raw, unfiltered energy bottled up in vinyl form.
So here’s my hot take: If you ever find yourself stuck in traffic or waiting in line at the DMV, throw on Guggenmusik. Let those brassy blasts transport you somewhere else—even if that somewhere else smells faintly of sweaty alpenhorns and questionable cheese fondue decisions.
And hey, fun fact: Did you know guggenmusik traditionally refers to street bands playing during Carnival season in Switzerland? So maybe this album isn’t just music—it’s actually a cry for freedom disguised as a Sousaphone solo. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. Either way, crank it up loud and enjoy the racket.
