mgodwin

Much to the Great Larson’s displeasure, almost an entire month has passed since my last post.  These past few weeks have been so incredibly intense and band-action-packed that even the abridged version would have your eyes falling out of your head before you finished reading, so you might want to wear goggles, because here goes.  The weekend after Cap City, we had our first two-part contest, Westlake.  The week leading up to Westlake was definitely our most focused week up to that point, and even this past week may not quite beat it.  It can safely be said that we owned at Westlake, sweeping our class completely and ranking fourth overall.  Besides the performance aspect of Westlake, we all enjoyed our lunch at Brodie Oaks.  I had an extremely satisfying burger at Fuddrucker’s, along with the best chocolate shake I’ve ever tasted.  Wouldn’t you know that, with our extra time, half the band decided to go on a foray to the most entertaining store in the area- Toys R Us (I’m pretty sure we freaked out the parents shopping there by our mere presence, but you can’t help reminiscing a bit when you see huge stacks of Lego’s).

The next week of practice started out rough.  Heads slightly bloated from Saturday’s triumph, Monday’s practices were less productive than they could have been.  However, focus returned to the band quite abruptly when it was decided to reinstate the full-band push-up policy.  We had no contest Saturday, and I’m sure we all enjoyed the sleep- except for the admins of Octuba, that is.  The dance was amazing, and come Monday morning, we dance-goers were limping and hobbling, legs debilitated by Saturday night’s constant movement and numerous bouncing moshpits.  Our performance at UIL Monday night was, apparently, typical for the occasion, and not in a good way.  After the glow of praise that accompanied each performance at Westlake the previous Saturday, the disappointment we felt coming off the field Monday was particularly sharp.

Starting bright (or dark) and early Tuesday morning, we somehow overcame Monday’s scattered concentration and managed to clean and add to the show like fiends.  Saturday at USSBA State (a contest of a good 15 bands- you’d think it was Rhode Island) we were finally not the one band that had no GE.  Saturday’s morning practice was another best for the year- we seemed to be inspired.  After two long hours on the road to Schertz and however long it was that we languished in the buses due to our punctuality and the contest’s lack of it, we went and warmed up in a gym with just about as bad an echo as Hendrickson’s.  the second we stepped on to the field, band-wide groans went up.  It seemed that Schertz high school had managed to  procure some strange and magical turf which actually sucks the life out from the bottoms of your feet.  Yet, even while the spongy turf drained us of our life force, we were able to reproduce to intensity and concentration level that had characterized our morning practice.  Our score was at least five full points above the second place winner in our class, and when thrown in with the bands up to six open, our score had us at third overall, beaten by Hendrickson and Steele.

As I’m sure everyone within twenty miles of Dripping has noticed, this morning was the Livestrong Challenge ride.  That anyone at all would, after getting home past midnight the night before, be back at the high school before seven says so much about our band.  After playing at a few different pit  stops for awhile, the separate groups joined together outside the band hall to welcome in the riders, yelling out a ragged chorus of “Hey, Baby” as Lance Armstrong rode past with his police escort.

I can’t quite register the fact that in just one week, all of this will be part of the past- that Three Isms will be nothing but a video on Youtube and a collection of dusty props.  We have one more contest, the culmination of this season’s long, long, long, and hard work.  Personally, I am looking forward to the best week of the season, and the hardest work which can be dredged up from the depths of our sleep-deprived beings.  Centennial could be the perfect end to this amazing season.

I’m not looking forward to putting up my marching horn and bringing out the chairs, stands, and sixteenth-notes, but at least it will be a gradual process.  Our undefeated football team is most definitely attending playoffs, and the new drill and extra dose of Friday nights in the stands is probably better than trying to stop marching cold turkey.  And yes, to me, marching band is not only my cult and my life, it’s an addictive drug.

After another week of fairly good rehearsals, we had put on and begun to clean a few more sets to show our huge homecoming audience.  Because of last week’s strange turn of events, Friday felt like our first home game- a real  homecoming for once.  As we marched into the stadium, the strange feelings of the high, stiff collar and wide gauntlets was washed away by the exhilaration of being a part of the ordered mass of red, white, and black.

First half was pretty amazing- especially as far as the football was concerned.  What was it?  28 – 6 at the first quarter?  Travis’s drill team put on a good show, then turned around and picked up flags to act as color guard for a band smaller then our low brass section alone.  We took the field and played Magnificent Seven for drill team, then scattered to our first set.  I hate to say that I, and the band on whole, have marched the show better, which is true, but it felt like we managed to pull off a decent performance.  If it counts for anything, I played that first note with all the tone I could manage, and our set 18 pentagon was recognizable as such.

Second half felt oddly empty without the battery’s presence, and our stands tunes were definitely affected.  The game was over in no time at all after halftime, and then it was time for the run-through.  The band made of for some, if not all, of our second half behavior with one of the best run-throughs we’ve ever had.  We marched back, exhausted but determined to last until dismissal.  For it being our first experience with uniforms, the process of putting them up went incredibly smoothly.  It’s great to have concrete evidence of what your work has accomplished, and the video of the show showed just how much better we’d gotten.  That huge sound at the beginning of Dada brought me back to that feeling of watching the band as an eighth grader and wondering in awe how they did it. I had to remind myself of the long hours of hard work and of the fact that I was part of that awe-inspiring performance.

Due to our drill writer’s living in Ike zone, we’re dedicating next week to cleaning drill before our first contest Saturday.  Besides that looming test of our accomplishments, next Friday is senior parent night, drill team parent night, and 7th and 8th grade night.  How we’re supposed to fit that multitude into our new stands is beyond me, but if all else fails, we can just stick the woodwinds under the stands to make room, right?  Guess not, but next Friday is sure to be interesting, especially with the new home game battery dealio.  Which, by the way, is one of the most awesome things the band has ever done.

We’ve been in school now for two weeks, and the  weird thing is it feels like almost nothing’s changed since the summer practices.  Not, of course, by way of progress or the way we practice, because those are way different, but it feels like my days are just as devoted to band as they were when that’s the only thing I was doing all day.  School, it seems, is just an addition to band, not the other way around.  It makes me wonder what people who aren’t in band do with their time!

Since last week’s game in Gonzales, we’ve added some10 or 15 sets to our show.  We didn’t do this, plus clean the opener, by sleeping in and relaxing inside- no, we’ve been hard at work all week (except Monday, which I’m sure we all needed) and it’s payed off.  One of the best band-induced feelings I’ve gotten this year came from watching the video of our drill yesterday night.  Having been raised by bandies, I’ve been watching marching bands almost all my life.  I’ve watched in awe, unable to see how so many people can be orchestrated into a living breathing form of art and music- and knowing that I was part of the sounds I was hearing and the huge pictures I was seeing… It was crazy.

As for what happened in the stands, well I’ll tell you- there are few things as awkward as doing negatives among the baritones while facing your grandparents.  Besides that bit of fun, we did Metal Shop for the first time, and managed to end the song right for once.  My fingernail is probably bruised from flicking tabs off soda cans- there has to be some logic to that game, but I just can’t figure why it’ll be just right- almost completely off- and it manages to hang on through your flick and come off on the next one.  Second half was a blast (with good sound, of course) fest, especially the last four minutes.  I hope we keep winning- playing at a winning game is so much more fun.

I can hardly wait for next week- donning that uniform has been one of the brightest expectations of mine since fitting day.  But before I can do that, there’s work to be done- fifteen sets of Dada to learn and clean, grades to keep up, and, perhaps the most pressing, region music to pass off.  What in the world will I find to do when marching season ends?

I don’t think I went outdoors more than once all weekend- I’d just gotten my hands on Breaking dawn, and I wasn’t about to put it down.  Sunday night, I reluctantly gathered everything I’d need the next morning and set my hated alarm… and woke up at 7:15, forty-five minutes after it should’ve gone off.  What??  So I rushed to get ready, ran out the door, and skidded into practice just in time.  Without my water… but whatever, I could deal- I just mooched sips off Colton and Willow.  But then we needed our flip folders, so I ran back in to get mine, and came back without my lyre- doh!  So I ran with the unprepared people and hopped back into the block.  I won’t make the mistake of drinking too little water again- my head was spinning, and I was told to sit twice, to my great embarrassment.  I hate being the one who can’t handle the challenge.

So the morning wasn’t too hot (it was pretty warm), but that had apparently no effect on the afternoon rehearsal.  We definitely got a lot done, and I began to understand exactly how the drill fit with the music.  For me, though, the best part was when we got into stands tunes, “These Boots Are Made For Walking” in particular.  Baritones have the melody on that piece, and playing for the first time with the battery made it twice as much fun with the driving bass drum.  Monday morning was stereotypical in the worst way, but the afternoon left me happy to the point of bubbly.

This morning my alarm did go off, and I was out of the house early, and at the school with time to spare, a welcome and hopefully permanent change.  Clouds hovered above us, threatening rain, and apparently, Margie, the hobo of humidity, had been busy painting the air with butter and making it sticky and heavy. (One time at band camp my roommate and I returned to our rooms to find everything moist from the humidity.  She said it was like butter was covering everything, so we concluded that a hobo named Margie (margarine) slept under her bed and snuck out in our absence to coat everything in grossness.)

Other than the smothering air, what practice we managed to have today went well.  Interrupted partway through morning marching with the threat of lightning, we went to the cafeteria and did music rehearsal.  When we dismissed for lunch, it was raining, and the walk to Subway was best described as wet and insanely fun.  We marched in the afternoon today, and managed to put music to fifteen measures of the opener- woot!  We’ve got two more days of intense practice in the next week- our goal is to complete the opener by Thursday.  Though of focus took a hit upon the return from camp, our intesity as a group seems to be strengthening, and if we keep up the momentum, we’re looking at a great season!