Marching Band Concert Report
Bright stadium light gleamed, my feet rolled through the damp turf, all eyes were on us, and the spectators roared. This bustling evening in late August was what is commonly referred to as, Friday night lights. I was overwhelmed by the crowd's positive reaction and my performance level heightened. Contrary to want you may have pictured, I was not a part of the football team. I was a part of the Samuel Clemens Mighty Buffalo Marching Band, which performed the memorizing halftime show. Our show, entitled, “Wavelength,” was filled with swaying visuals, rotating circles, interlocking diagonals, musical runs, dynamic soloists, the whole kitchen sink. However, I did not just arrive at show time the day of the first football game. Weeks of hard work and tedious preparation went into that spectacular halftime show. As an overwhelmed freshman, who was having my first experience of marching band, those weeks were brutal, but it was during those weeks that band had its greatest effects on me. During those strenuous weeks I started from the basics and eventually worked to put on my very first performance, where I would discover a new found confidence. For the first
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time in my life, I was fortunate to really learn what dedication looked like, how to work as a team, how to perform, how to be confident in my abilities, and many more life lessons. These lessons would both consciously and subconsciously guide me in the future and give me a new perspective on life.
My school band journey began the summer before my freshman year of high school. Flooded with decisions on what clubs to join, what friends to surround myself with, and what I wanted my high school experience to be, I anxiously decided to join band. Band was different in high school.
I had participated in band for the four previous years at the intermediate and junior high level, but nothing compared to my experiences in high school. Similar to junior high and intermediate school, the band partook in concert performances. Prior to high school band, the entirety of band class consisted of playing the standard sheet music, which was played from the comfort of our own chair. On any given day I would casually stroll to the band hall, where we then rehearsed our concert music. I remember counting the simplistic rhythms, fingering the black notes that floated across the page on my clarinets shining keys, and most importantly leaving at the end of the period for the day. However, once I graduated to the next level, I was thrown into the new world of marching
band. Marching band was such a foreign concept to me at the time. Everything seemed to be impossible and way out of my capabilities. The thought of having to memorize music, walk, or march as they called it, in a particular fashion, learn sixty plus places to move on what seemed like random counts terrified me. Before I had even stepped foot in the door of the band hall, I had feelings of doubt. My feelings of reluctance stemmed from my fears of the unknown. Am I really ready to do this? Can I memorize eight minutes of music? Will I be able to multitask well? Am I a good enough musician to actually contribute to the program? All of these questions poured over me as I awaited the beginning of summer band. Summer band was daunting enough and these feeling of uneasiness did not help. These were the weeks of tedious preparation that led up to the grand show. As it was once described, summer band consists of dragging some two hundred poor students out of there bed before the sun came up, so we could walk around on the hot asphalt in the middle of the heat of the day, getting yelled at to count louder and step off on our left foot. All while maintaining proper posture, holding our instrument correctly, staying precisely on tempo, and applying the appropriate marching technique. Then once the demanding morning was over, we were given about an hour to eat our brown sack lunch that is unless you were cool upperclassmen who could drive off campus and leave for lunch. The day didn't stop there though. We still three more hours of inside rehearsal. Afternoon rehearsal was when we would work on perfecting the intricate music for the lengthy show. If you were lucky you could sit for two hours of sectional rehearsal and stand for the last hour of full band. But on those unlucky occasions, when everyone met in the main band hall for the entirety of reversal, we were forced to endure standing for three more hours. Sounds enjoyable right? Well to me and other incoming freshman, these kinds of stories only added to our already high levels of anxiety. Once present, the first couple days of summer band were spent on the basics and fundamentals of marching. Learning to march with proper technique was quite literally like learning to walk again. I don’t remember my first experience in working towards the ability to walk, but it could not have been that difficult. Could it have been? I felt like a new baby deer that had just discovered how to use their legs. Keeping my balance, when swinging my legs straight forward like a pendulum, proved to be much more difficult than it looked. When I glanced around the empty parking lot where rehearsal took place, I was easily able to differentiate the freshman from the veterans. Seeing other freshman struggling made me feel slightly better about my subpar performance, but I still lacked confidence in my abilities. The veterans also stuck out, but in a positive way. I recall them giving off a sense of quiet confidence in everything they did. Nothing seemed to faze them. On the other hand, I struggled to keep up with the seemingly bizarre drills utilized to teach us technique and accuracy. I envied the upperclassman that seemed to have it all figured out and silently prayed that I would eventually figure it out too. The sweltering heat did not contribute to my concentration or focus either. I remember feeling the heat radiate off the black asphalt. I remember the burning sensation my feet felt when I stayed in one spot to long. My athletic clothes would be drenched with damp sweat and my skin moist to the touch. The intense weather conditions were only one aspect that made the weeks of summer band brutal. The constant straight leg marching, playing of long tones, long exhausting hours, and short water breaks were challenging, but they adequately prepared the band for our upcoming showcase. All of the long taxing hours were in preparation for our first performance. Performing the show was what I was most worried about. Once out on the wide open field, I was no longer in the safety of rehearsal. I could no longer rely on the vibrant yellow and royal blue sprayed painted dots on the practice field, which sectioned the field off line graph paper, to guide me to my specific sets. Any little mistake would be showcased to everyone in the enormous home side stands, which completely petrified me. I began to resort back to questioning my abilities. Will I mess up? Will I fall flat on my butt during my backwards march? Will I forget where to go in the middle of the show? All of these were thoughts circling in my mind before the band took the neatly groomed football field. There was no time to question myself. It was show time and before I knew it I was being rushed out of the clunky metal stands. As I began to line up, I felt queasy and vulnerable. I could feel my heart beat getting faster at a rapid pace. I could not help to see the hundreds of piercing eyes of the onlookers, who I could have sworn were all looking judgingly into me. My sweaty hands shook with nervousness and my anxiety levels sky rocketed to an all-time high. “Band at set”, shouted the authoritative drum majors.
“Dut”, responded the band in perfect unison, while we fell into straight lines with our horn's parallel to our chest.
We marched in military style straight lines onto the velvety green field and took our places at opening set. My emotions were all over the place at this point. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, cry into my pillow, and celebrate like it was my birthday all at once. The environment was sensory overload. I recall hearing the audience cheer, smelling the fresh aroma of concession stand popcorn, feeling my clammy fingers pass over the smooth keys of my clarinet, tasting the wood aftertaste of my moist reed, and seeing the sea of yellow and blue in the home side stands. This was it. The pressure was on. All of my hard work had led up to this very moment. It was time to prove to myself that I was really able to accomplish what I once thought was impossible. Seconds later, the band was given the count off from the elevated drum majors and off we went. I anxiously counted and was careful to move on the exact counts. “One two three four two two three four step two three four horns up”, I counted while carefully attempted to stay on tempo.
I felt a rush of achievement as I hit my sets perfectly and glided across the lush field. My feet and fingers seemed to rely on muscle memory as they graced the yard lines of the field and keys of my instrument. When I looked up into the roaring audience cheering us on, I gained a sense of newly found confidence. I loved the feeling and dreaded the end of the show. When the show finally came to a close, I recall experiencing a sensation of exhilaration. I was so shocked and proud of what I had done that I was overwhelmed with thoughts. Seeing the other smiling, yet tired, faces reassured me of the remarkable performance.
The feeling I got from performing the show continued through the whole season. I would routinely get chills down my arms when the band would execute chords perfectly or execute a clean run through of the show. As the year went on, I continued to sharpen my skills and gain even more confidence in my abilities and in myself.
When I reflect back on my journey, I realize how much my freshman band experience had impacted me. I notice a transition in my view on new situations and a transition in my view of myself. I found myself less reluctant to try new experiences and more open to seemingly impossible tasks. Through band I learned that I was capable of handling much more than I previously thought and with that knowledge came confidence in myself and my abilities. Without band I would not be the person I am today. Because of the life lessons I was taught and the events I encountered, I gained a new perspective on life. I never imagined something as simple a high school organization could influence me in such a huge way.
time in my life, I was fortunate to really learn what dedication looked like, how to work as a team, how to perform, how to be confident in my abilities, and many more life lessons. These lessons would both consciously and subconsciously guide me in the future and give me a new perspective on life.
My school band journey began the summer before my freshman year of high school. Flooded with decisions on what clubs to join, what friends to surround myself with, and what I wanted my high school experience to be, I anxiously decided to join band. Band was different in high school.
I had participated in band for the four previous years at the intermediate and junior high level, but nothing compared to my experiences in high school. Similar to junior high and intermediate school, the band partook in concert performances. Prior to high school band, the entirety of band class consisted of playing the standard sheet music, which was played from the comfort of our own chair. On any given day I would casually stroll to the band hall, where we then rehearsed our concert music. I remember counting the simplistic rhythms, fingering the black notes that floated across the page on my clarinets shining keys, and most importantly leaving at the end of the period for the day. However, once I graduated to the next level, I was thrown into the new world of marching
band. Marching band was such a foreign concept to me at the time. Everything seemed to be impossible and way out of my capabilities. The thought of having to memorize music, walk, or march as they called it, in a particular fashion, learn sixty plus places to move on what seemed like random counts terrified me. Before I had even stepped foot in the door of the band hall, I had feelings of doubt. My feelings of reluctance stemmed from my fears of the unknown. Am I really ready to do this? Can I memorize eight minutes of music? Will I be able to multitask well? Am I a good enough musician to actually contribute to the program? All of these questions poured over me as I awaited the beginning of summer band. Summer band was daunting enough and these feeling of uneasiness did not help. These were the weeks of tedious preparation that led up to the grand show. As it was once described, summer band consists of dragging some two hundred poor students out of there bed before the sun came up, so we could walk around on the hot asphalt in the middle of the heat of the day, getting yelled at to count louder and step off on our left foot. All while maintaining proper posture, holding our instrument correctly, staying precisely on tempo, and applying the appropriate marching technique. Then once the demanding morning was over, we were given about an hour to eat our brown sack lunch that is unless you were cool upperclassmen who could drive off campus and leave for lunch. The day didn't stop there though. We still three more hours of inside rehearsal. Afternoon rehearsal was when we would work on perfecting the intricate music for the lengthy show. If you were lucky you could sit for two hours of sectional rehearsal and stand for the last hour of full band. But on those unlucky occasions, when everyone met in the main band hall for the entirety of reversal, we were forced to endure standing for three more hours. Sounds enjoyable right? Well to me and other incoming freshman, these kinds of stories only added to our already high levels of anxiety. Once present, the first couple days of summer band were spent on the basics and fundamentals of marching. Learning to march with proper technique was quite literally like learning to walk again. I don’t remember my first experience in working towards the ability to walk, but it could not have been that difficult. Could it have been? I felt like a new baby deer that had just discovered how to use their legs. Keeping my balance, when swinging my legs straight forward like a pendulum, proved to be much more difficult than it looked. When I glanced around the empty parking lot where rehearsal took place, I was easily able to differentiate the freshman from the veterans. Seeing other freshman struggling made me feel slightly better about my subpar performance, but I still lacked confidence in my abilities. The veterans also stuck out, but in a positive way. I recall them giving off a sense of quiet confidence in everything they did. Nothing seemed to faze them. On the other hand, I struggled to keep up with the seemingly bizarre drills utilized to teach us technique and accuracy. I envied the upperclassman that seemed to have it all figured out and silently prayed that I would eventually figure it out too. The sweltering heat did not contribute to my concentration or focus either. I remember feeling the heat radiate off the black asphalt. I remember the burning sensation my feet felt when I stayed in one spot to long. My athletic clothes would be drenched with damp sweat and my skin moist to the touch. The intense weather conditions were only one aspect that made the weeks of summer band brutal. The constant straight leg marching, playing of long tones, long exhausting hours, and short water breaks were challenging, but they adequately prepared the band for our upcoming showcase. All of the long taxing hours were in preparation for our first performance. Performing the show was what I was most worried about. Once out on the wide open field, I was no longer in the safety of rehearsal. I could no longer rely on the vibrant yellow and royal blue sprayed painted dots on the practice field, which sectioned the field off line graph paper, to guide me to my specific sets. Any little mistake would be showcased to everyone in the enormous home side stands, which completely petrified me. I began to resort back to questioning my abilities. Will I mess up? Will I fall flat on my butt during my backwards march? Will I forget where to go in the middle of the show? All of these were thoughts circling in my mind before the band took the neatly groomed football field. There was no time to question myself. It was show time and before I knew it I was being rushed out of the clunky metal stands. As I began to line up, I felt queasy and vulnerable. I could feel my heart beat getting faster at a rapid pace. I could not help to see the hundreds of piercing eyes of the onlookers, who I could have sworn were all looking judgingly into me. My sweaty hands shook with nervousness and my anxiety levels sky rocketed to an all-time high. “Band at set”, shouted the authoritative drum majors.
“Dut”, responded the band in perfect unison, while we fell into straight lines with our horn's parallel to our chest.
We marched in military style straight lines onto the velvety green field and took our places at opening set. My emotions were all over the place at this point. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, cry into my pillow, and celebrate like it was my birthday all at once. The environment was sensory overload. I recall hearing the audience cheer, smelling the fresh aroma of concession stand popcorn, feeling my clammy fingers pass over the smooth keys of my clarinet, tasting the wood aftertaste of my moist reed, and seeing the sea of yellow and blue in the home side stands. This was it. The pressure was on. All of my hard work had led up to this very moment. It was time to prove to myself that I was really able to accomplish what I once thought was impossible. Seconds later, the band was given the count off from the elevated drum majors and off we went. I anxiously counted and was careful to move on the exact counts. “One two three four two two three four step two three four horns up”, I counted while carefully attempted to stay on tempo.
I felt a rush of achievement as I hit my sets perfectly and glided across the lush field. My feet and fingers seemed to rely on muscle memory as they graced the yard lines of the field and keys of my instrument. When I looked up into the roaring audience cheering us on, I gained a sense of newly found confidence. I loved the feeling and dreaded the end of the show. When the show finally came to a close, I recall experiencing a sensation of exhilaration. I was so shocked and proud of what I had done that I was overwhelmed with thoughts. Seeing the other smiling, yet tired, faces reassured me of the remarkable performance.
The feeling I got from performing the show continued through the whole season. I would routinely get chills down my arms when the band would execute chords perfectly or execute a clean run through of the show. As the year went on, I continued to sharpen my skills and gain even more confidence in my abilities and in myself.
When I reflect back on my journey, I realize how much my freshman band experience had impacted me. I notice a transition in my view on new situations and a transition in my view of myself. I found myself less reluctant to try new experiences and more open to seemingly impossible tasks. Through band I learned that I was capable of handling much more than I previously thought and with that knowledge came confidence in myself and my abilities. Without band I would not be the person I am today. Because of the life lessons I was taught and the events I encountered, I gained a new perspective on life. I never imagined something as simple a high school organization could influence me in such a huge way.