RECYCLING THE KRUMMHORN BOX

A krummhorn is a sixteenth century instrument with a capped
double reed.  For some reason not now remembered, it curves
upward at the end; the name derives from a word meaning
"crooked."  It sounds like a singing duck, or an oboe under a
blanket.  Despite the instrument's comical appearance and sound,
and its legendary intonation problems, a consort of them can have
a velvety, reedy sound that I love.

Many years ago, having more or less mastered the recorder, I
wrote to Moeck in Germany, explaining that I wanted an alto
krummhorn and enclosing what I had determined to be the purchase
price, in Deutschmarks provided by the Bank of America.  The
krummhorn arrived with a Grifftabelle fuer Krummhoerner (fingering
chart for krummhorns) and 1 Rohr, which with the help of a
dictionary I identified as a reed, all in the sturdiest cardboard
box I have ever seen.

I kept the box, partly because I keep everything that looks even
remotely useful, but mainly because there was something unique
and wonderful about it.  When I came to need a system for
carrying recorders, music, and a stand, as well as the krummhorn,
adapting the krummhorn box to the purpose was the obvious thing
to do.

I should explain that while it's possible to have a carrying case
for recorders and other early instruments custom-made, those of
us who play them typically devise our own systems.  A group of
early music performers is second only to a rock group for the
amount of stuff we haul around, and everyone's needs and set of
instruments is different.  For many years I bungy-corded my box
of instruments to the back of a motor scooter or motorcycle, or
carried them on subways and buses.  I needed to have all of them
in the same container, with a handle.

The krummhorn box didn't have a handle, but it was easy to
improvise one.  Operating on the box to make it larger was
another matter.  Whatever German cardboard is made of, it is
formidable stuff.  I had to cut it with a saw.  I fastened two
pieces of it together with bolts, expecting that under pressure
the holes would get larger over time.  They never did.  I covered
the box with contact paper in case of rain, strapped it to my
motor scooter, and drove about with it for years.  The bungy
cords, which have to be tight to prevent a motorcycle's cargo
from falling off sideways, ruckled up the contact paper some but
never crimped the cardboard.

The box went through another incarnation or two to accommodate
different configurations of instruments.  My collection outgrew
the krummhorn box when I bought first a bass recorder and then a
great bass.  I built a different box for recorders, and another
for krummhorns when I bought a couple more of them; but the
German cardboard krummhorn box was too good not to use for
something.  It now holds hand drums, tambourines, finger cymbals,
and the like.  The cardboard shows no more sign of wear than it
ever did: "the Dorian Gray of boxes," someone said of it.