| Feb 5 2002 We've all done our time. (Well, most of us at least.) Sometimes when that fall air strikes us we feel that familiar rush, that familiar longing for glory. For others it's the sticky heat of summer, the air so thick it hurts to breathe that brings back the memories. The aching arms, the eyes stinging from sweat dripping into them. We try to put it behind us. I want a real hope for an orchestral career. But still there's some lusty linger of a love for marching band that hides in my heart. Just looking at the photos on Eric's site today brought back old feelings. I suppose it's something you can't shake. Yeah, it was hell while it lasted but in hindsight perhaps one of my most exciting times. www.capitalregiment.org <- That's my alma mater corps. I only marched a year, before realizing that I was more serious about music than all that. But, there's some residual love hanging behind.. I don't know if I'll ever quite shake it. Yet I think about it further and realize that I was simply horrid at it! I had horrible marching technique and my playing back in the day of when I marched was weak. Now I can produce a sound that turns heads. People, few or whatever in number, care to listen! And orchestral playing is so much more soloistic. Marching band is all about the supression of the self (aside from the trumpet squealing on the sidelines) Don't ANYONE compare those guys to Bud Herseth. So, I've shed the gaudy blues and stark whites to be clad in black. I am an individual, to be one of a very few number.. with moments... moments.. to play like there's no one sitting behind you. (I'm a french hornist) hehe.. anyway.. I have to write a treatise on wind playing sometime.. I've got a thing or two I need to opinionate about the instrumentation of wind bands.. I haven't the energy for that right now, though... adieu |