As I went to band, I was faced by a dilemma,
"Gotta make up my mind, which
seat can I take?”
Instrument, dammit, instrument.
Assuming rehearsal was inside, do I show off on euphonium, fumble around on trombone, or get low on sousaphone?
I had no idea, as I was standing like an idiot in the storage room.
"Outside, no instruments."
Da fuck? I get to parade block and it’s explained that we’re doing the “first annual marching band banyard peanut hunt.”
Da Fuck?!? We split into teams (2-3 squads a team), each team is designated two leaders and we’re a certain animal. Typical to us being tubas, tubas were never told to group into a team. I attached to the two sax squads to my right, 1) because 3 people were missing, and 2) because we’re cats.
There are peanuts scattered around the practice field. Find them. If you’re not a team leader, you can only make your animal noise until your leader finds you and collects the peanuts. Seeing as a cat leader is missing, I appointed myself that role. A select few peanuts have dots colored on them, those are more points.
I decided to let loose just a little bit, running around the field, saying “Nya~ De gozaro” because why the hell not, and taking peanuts from under horses standing around, waiting for their leader who is nowhere to be seen.
Judging by our small number, we did really good. I collected a few hundred points alone. But alas, victory was not ours. But it’s the fun that matters.
After school was the first jazz rehearsal. Jazz is split between our percussion director, who’s secret identity is that of a professional trumpet player, and our normal director who is the exact opposite of all that personifies jazz.
We were lucky to get the perc director today. This guy is hilarious, knows what we’re doing, knows how to get shit done for the brass players, and knows how to talk shit about our other director.
I was given the trombone that isn’t as good as the one I played yesterday. It sounds more airy due to a cork not being as good as it should be, and it’s just in a bit worse condition. But I guess I’m stuck with it for now.
We spent the last hour of rehearsal on breathing, our trombone 2 (should be one, but he wants to play two. He’s the guy that taught me yesterday) brought up that he was never taught how to breath. I mentally took a step back and said “yeah, pretty much.”
Besides the 3 or 4 low brass clinics last year, I was never really taught any of the simple stuff. and the clinics were how to apply breathing for euphoniums and tubas, but now how to breath. The trumpets seemed to really reject this instruction, this becomes part of my realization in the next paragraph.
Realization: Every section besides trombones is a hot mess. And trombones are pretty close to a warm mess, but I just started playing, forgive me.
I’m hearing all kinds of shit coming from behind me. “Is G# the same as Bb?” Five minutes later, “What’s G#?” “I’ve been playing trumpet a year, I can do this (breathing).”
When our director explained you should be able to play half a page before breathing “We’d die!”
No, you just breathe wrong.
And the freshman saxophones can’t play above pppp. We spent an hour on playing at a concert band F, which is a jazz mp, and we have this alto that I’ve never seen before playing like a mouse.
Imma “accidentally” put my slide into 8th position and put it through someone’s head.
This realization section has been rushed and cut short, I g2g. I’d like to type everything out , but I have no time.