The Arts Unit Showcase, or Why the Marching Band is so Awesome

To start with, I’d like to acknowledge the assistance I received from Keevers, Julian and Bob (Liam the trumpeter) while I was writing this post in the car on the way home. Thanks, boys.

Today it rained. Lots. Lots and lots and lots and lots and lots.

And then it rained some more.

Fun Fact the first: rush hour trains going from Hurstville to the city are inordinately packed.
Related Fun Fact technically the second: When one is planning to catch a train of the aforementioned nature, it’s generally a good idea not to do that with a sousaphone.

But moving on.

Getting off the packed train at Redfern, the heavens proceeded to open with their righteous deluge of aqueous fluid, drawn by a gravitation attraction to the dense magnetic ooze in the middle of the earth.

Arriving rather sodden with the exception of my feet (moral of the story: wear gumboots to marching band. It’s mad cool), the equally sodden remainder of the band were assembled, waiting for a lessening of the downpour so that we could get ourselves to the Sound Lounge (because we warranted an entire jazz theatre as our holding area. That’s right, “dancers” [I’ll explain that later], we are that much cooler than you.) without gaining an extra kilogram or so of body mass in the form of the aforementioned solution of aqueous fluid.

We then embarked on a journey through the bowels of the Seymour centre to find the drums and sousas which the stage crew were meant to have taken to the sound lounge, at which point we set up our instruments and were released into sectionals to go over any last minute issues and to teach the newcomers the drill and choreography in all its multiplicity. This saw the appearance of Bob lacking much of his hair. It also saw the appearance of Jake, who had sparkles on his face, rather like the “dancers” (but I’ll elaborate on that later too). That’s right, I still haven’t gotten over the whole lip piercing thing.

After a somewhat delayed dress rehearsal (just because we run on schedule doesn’t mean the rest of The Arts Unit does), we returned to the sound lounge for some silent practicing, and for Scott to start watching the trombones for horn angles. Fun times for them. Eventually we made our ways to our respective stage doors to get ready for the matinee performance.

The primary school kids were beyond enthusiastic, whereas the high school kids in the audience generally had their fingers in their ears. I suppose the fact that the sound of a marching band is designed to be consumed from several metres away in windy conditions does mean that when consumed from about 50 centimetres away in an enclosed space it’s somewhat loud, but still. A little intense loudness never hurt anyone. Look at the drumline...

Upon returning to the Sound Lounge, we were greeted with the news that the August rehearsal had been changed to accommodate a performance at the AFL - a 20 minute show at the 3rd final at Stadium Australia: the first time since the olympics that the marching band will be performing there. The fact that we've been given 20 minutes of performance time at what is apparently the 3rd last game of the season (I don't really follow AFL) gives me the impression that they probably would have given us the grand final if not for the fact that it isn't in Sydney (I know enough about AFL to work that one out). EXCITEMENT.

Following that, we changed into our rather snazzy blues and assembled to go to Broadway for some free time [in groups of four or more]. On the way there, the uni students all looked upon the spectacle of 80 or so school students in matching uniforms walking in a regimented fashion (rather unlike the ragtag mess of the “dancers” and the drama kids). Upon arriving at our meeting point inside the shopping centre we were released in our groups [of four or more].

A reasonably sized contingent of the band went off to watch The Hangover, with the remainder merely floating about the centre making violently acerbic comments about the dancers. No, sorry, “dancers”.

So now I’ll actually get around to explaining that. As anyone who bothered to read the back of their jackets would realise, the jackets of the “dancers” have the arts unit logo and the word “Dance”. Not just the word dance, but the word in inverted commas. This led us to wonder what the purpose of the commas was. Was it an ironic comment of the quality of their dancing, was it merely an accident on the behalf of the jacket makers, or did the person who designed the jacket (probably a dancer themselves) not realise that inverted commas cannot be thrown about willy-nilly, but that they are in fact a greatly misimplemented grammatical feature, which when used properly can bring much happiness to the user... but I digress. Either way, from the moment I realised what their jackets actually said, I ensured that from then on anyone who said the word dancer within my earshot pronounced it “dancer” replete with inverted commas gestures.

Over the course of the next few hours, my little group [of four or more] spent the majority of our time making lists, the contents and nature of which will be revealed come the end of the year when I hand the reins over to someone else - just a reason to keep reading; and ghosting "dancers" in an attempt to get photographic evidence of the grammatical travesty (I almost wrote transvestite there... Freud would have a field day) of their jackets. Eventually I managed to ghost on particular "dancer" into the children's section at Dymocks where I got a photo from about 50 cm away and then managed to escape without being noticed, which just goes to show how much snesory awareness "dancers" have. Namely incredibly little to none.
There will be a link to a photo as soon as one is uploaded. Stay tuned.

Upon returning to the Seymour centre, we were told we had to be super quiet because of the performance going on in the theatre right next door to our holding room, so after a lot of miming, we were left to our own (albeit quiet) devices, at which point I discovered that when in doubt, lying on your back is the way to go when it comes to long periods of waiting. You heard it here first.

But back to the story, we had some storytime from Dane wherein we learned two valuable life lessons:
Lesson the first: Always make sure your fly is done up.
Lesson the second: Never listen to the Raiders March when you're locked into a school with your crappy P plater car.

It was then time to neaten ourselves up for one last performance in a completely packed theatre containing a whole load of people who are in all likelihood only now regaining full hearing. Because we were just that awesome.

We then packed up and (in my case, being the bearer of a large instrument) headed off to the Engineering entryway to pack the 'truck'. I use inverted commas because the vehicle in question was in fact Greg's car. A large one, but by no stretch of the imagination a truck. This brings me to believe that in Marching Band terms, a truck is any vehicle which could be made to contain instruments, regardless of dimension or appearance. That's something to ruminate upon...

Then came the sparkles. Once outside, we began to notice that there were sparkly-faced dancers EVERYWHERE. And as the descriptor suggests, they were covered in sparkles.
This for some un-understandable reason brings me to mention hairstyles. In addition to the loss of hair Bob was exhibiting; Jack the bass drummer had shaved his head, resulting in a scalp which was just about as entertaining as Shane's when he shaved; speaking of Shane, much entertainment was derived from feeling his hair.
As for Jacob - Holley definitely had fun.
And as an added bonus, Keevers was no longer rocking the reverse mullet. Oh happy day.

The day finished with sitting in a car with Keevers, Bob, Julian and Papa Keevers, watching Ben Mills do a Phantom of the Opera impersonation using his Trumpet jumper. Because he’s just a cool kid like that.
We also spent a lot of time trying to beat Keevers and Bob’s ex-music teacher out of the carpark. We lost.

And then I discovered what teenage boys do in their spare time...

...they play corners.

May, or The Revenge of Cirque du Soleil...

Fun Fact to start us off for today: Dancers serve no discernible purpose. Maybe they have some kind of function integral to the smooth running of the planet, but if today's experiences are anything to go by, it's probably not a very important or complicated role. But more on that later...

Aaaaanyway, when the weather forecasts are taken into account, the rehearsal weekend had some pretty spectacular weather. Not only did it not rain, there weren't gale force winds (something those of us who play giant wind traps - namely sousas and the larger bass drums - rather enjoy the lack of), and it wasn't even that cold. All in all, when the weather of previous rehearsals is taken into account, it was a good omen.

After much stretching and warm-up games at the hands of the drum majors and Normo, we spent the morning practising the drill for Tuesday, using a quasi-Seymour centre built using some chairs from the hall and some strategically placed cones, an arrangement which meant that whenever we were asked to reset to a certain point in the music, the imaginary audience were constantly being trampled by the lower brass, and that the stage was constantly being invaded by the brass and wind players during the 7/8.

Saturday also saw the appearance of Greg's teaching prac student... or at least that's who the trombone section said the member of the teaching staff whom no-one had seen before was...

Following lunch, we rehearsed in the imaginary Seymour centre for a while longer before we headed onto the field for some fieldshow practice. The first run was... questionable, but by the time it was dark (which happened really fast, might I add), we were actually making the forms correctly, which according to Katrina was a great improvement. This was success even lacking a reasonably large chunk of the band. which leads me to a quick request to everyone to TURN UP TO REHEARSALS! IT MAKES EVERYONE MUCHLY HAPPYFUL! It also makes working on the fieldshow easier, because there aren't vast chunks missing from forms. Think about it.

Following the packing of the 'truck' (pronounced: Greg's car), all were dismissed for the movie/bingo night organised by the social committee. Following dinner (the third meal of the day provided by the Boosters), the band and their families went into the hall to watch Monsters Inc., interspersed with some bingo. All in all, a marvellously enjoyable night, and thus I bestow congratulations upon the social committee for organising it.

On sunday, at noon and clad in our new blue rehearsal shirts, replete with section label on the arm (because we truly are that cool), we assembled outside the Seymour centre and had another rehearsal in another imaginary theatre, one of different dimensions to that of saturday. That was a learning experience. It was also free entertainment for the uni students/hipsters/dog walkers who happened to be in the general vicinity at the time.

In due course we actually entered the theatre in which we were to perform... only to discover that most of our drill just wouldn't work in the space provided. So true to form, we learned almost everything from scratch to suit the venue. In about 45 minutes. Respect unto us.

We were doing our final runthrough when the incident which prompted the primary Fun Fact took place. Following a large amount of shrieking at Keevers and Galuzzi playing at regular volume in an incredibly enclosed space (have you ever tried carrying a sousa in a tunnel which is about 6 feet high? It's incredibly difficult. Especially when there are things hanging off/out of the ceiling to make it harder... but I digress), the clump of dancers behind those of us in door 1 proceeded to faff about in our walkway AS WE WERE ACTUALLY DOING THE SHOW. Thus actively getting in the way. The boosters managed to scream at them enough to get them out of the way before anyone ended up with sousaphone or trombone shaped injuries, but honestly. Surely they realised that the scary people with giant instruments (i.e. us) weren't exactly likely to make way for the faffers about (i.e. them) when they were faffing in the middle of our rehearsal. This in turn made Keevers fondly remember the days of Spec last year when if any dancer was fool enough to get too close they'd get hit... but back on topic.

After an impressive hour long runthrough, we packed ourselves up, put larger instruments into the dressing room (which was not in any way shape or form built to withstand an entire marching band) and were in due course let out to rejoin our parents and go home to practice our horn angles. Because golly there were a lot of them.

And let's not forget that this rehearsal was but the beginning of a tale of epicness (and we're talking epicness of Classical proportions...) which will culminate in the Arts Unit Showcase 2011, which will in fact be the first time the marching band have performed at it. Excitement.

Remember, practice the choreography, make sure your horn angles are nice and high, and whatever you do, don't get injured and don't blow your lips out before Tuesday.
Until then...