I’ve been a guitarist for nearly 25 years, yet the supple six-string was not my first musical love. To me, there has always been something particularly magical about the sound of a brass band.

Commonly associated with Armistice parades and similar pageantry, this gorgeous branch of the musical pantheon has a haunting and ethereal effect that stirs the soul like no other.

I’m not alone in feeling this way, and have been proud on many a Remembrance Sunday to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with other spectators whose breath has been resolutely taken away by the majesty of the brass sound.

As a kid, my enchantment with it manifested fully when, in primary school, I was offered the opportunity to learn a musical instrument.

A close pal of mine opted for a clarinet, wanting to go on to be a sax player. Others were determined to put their parents through the torture of starting out as beginner violinists, and there were, of course, those who were already burgeoning rock stars, and opted for the acoustic guitar.

For me, however, there was only one choice.

The power and punch of its sound coupled with the........

© Shropshire Star