*This piece is entirely satirical. Read the rest of our April Fool’s edition, the Trinibonian, here. 

Alright, alright. It’s time to address the elephant in the room. Yes, I can confirm that the viola section has been, unfortunately, seen — and even more unfortunately — heard at rehearsals recently. As a concerned violin player of the orchestra (and victim), I feel it is my duty to respond and inform the masses of these ongoing auditory atrocities. ​

The corrupt, authoritarian Trinity Philharmonic insists that violas are “essential for harmony” and “complete the ensemble,” but I am here to tell you: This is propaganda. Propaganda that allows the viola to wiggle its way into the orchestra, spreading its atrocious, unrhythmic cacophony of sound throughout the room, corrupting violinists into violists and disrupting the elegant tapestry of harmonies. This is a systemic issue, one that could bring down our nation (bless our lord and savior Colby Jack). And frankly, it’s time we address it once and for all.

In 2025, a Tuscan-Medici viola was valued at almost $30 million. Thirty. Big. Clams. For what is essentially a premium piece of carved firewood. Now, while the Trinity violas might not be worth that much, each one contributes nothing more than a faint sense of atonal confusion. By liquidating them (stacking them neatly by the fireplace), we could significantly improve the gruesome condition of the Philharmonic and begin to reverse the years of damage to my (and every other symphony member’s) ears.

Taking aside the ear-shredding, the viola’s role has often been questionable. For centuries, symphonies like Trinity’s have been built on a simple hierarchy: violin > cello > bass > other instruments > worms on the ground > violas. This system works. It’s efficient and beautiful. Violas disrupt the chemical equilibrium of the orchestra, providing a unique sound where intonation is optional and every note feels like surviving a round of “Squid Games.”

Violas actively harm the rehearsal environment. During my first rehearsal, I witnessed two violas attempt to play in unison, only to bear witness to what our concertmaster refers to as “the minor second incident of the big ‘25.” Since then, this phenomenon has been repeated consistently, suggesting that cases like it aren’t just mistakes, but rather a lifestyle choice. 

Every rehearsal since then has become less about music and more about the other members of the orchestra surviving the rehearsal without being rendered catatonic. Even during the rehearsals, the violas aren’t improving. Instead, they’re  all evolving to sound like a vacuum cleaner: sucking. But at least a vacuum cleaner has to be plugged in to suck. Duh.

But the person I feel for the most is the conductor. Conductors are trained professionals with degrees, years of experience and perhaps a penchant for mild alcoholism (as goes with most music majors). But all of that can be squashed as soon as a viola enters. I’ve seen our great conductor start a rehearsal with smiling confidence, only to visibly age 15 years after a single viola passage. While I’ve witnessed my conductor conduct the orchestra with passion, I’ve also seen him negotiate and sometimes even plead with the violas. Sometimes, he even stares into the distance as if he’s thinking, “finish me now.”

I know what those viola defenders (those soft, left-wing alto clef snowflakes) will say. “They add such a warm sound.” Well, so does my car right after the winter storm. Interviewing a violist for this column would be pointless; it would be the only time they’d get a solo,   and somehow they’d still come in late and out of tune.

At the end of the day, I’m a violinist, totally, wholeheartedly unbiased. This is about progress, about furthering our great Trinity University. This is about admitting that not every tradition needs to continue existing. Our university prides itself on innovation, and I can think of no better way to demonstrate this than by plainly asking: what if… no violas?

So, to our great Murchison Monarch Vaseline Beastley: raise our tuition by another 5% (actually, please don’t), make us pay for milk and cookies, and build a huge statue of yourself on the Coates Esplanade laughing at us peasants. But please, for the love of all that is good and holy in this world, take our violas too. Because at the end of the day, violas aren’t a necessity. They’re a choice. A horrible, dictatorial choice.