|
The Weekend Events In Reverse Order
by Dennis Mancinni, Snare
Sunday End Of Day
The camp ended early. Why the heck not? Although, I thought we were going to have to take a vote on it. Everybody is very much into the book. In fact, some boy'z from the hood hanging by the bus stop across the street busted out and started to mosh when we played the ending to last years show. The snare line gave them the nod while sporting wry grins.
A most talented and excited horn line performed through the entire show screaming like nothing I have ever heard before. While the contra line played the same amount of notes as the snare line. Yikes! The show ending just takes your breath away!
We marched the first part of the drill. The full corps throws down a GE move that simply states the rest of the show to follow. Enough said on that.
The Drum line is starting to jell, especially the bass drum line. Holy sub sonic booms were heard echoing across the Island. It had the tourists making sub detours off the scenic route to see what the groove was all about. The boy'z are ramming. Yes!
At lunch we ate, we bantered, we drag raced through chop heavy exercises for fun until somebody yelled out, "5 minutes to set up out side to learn drill."
In the morning, we marched again but faster than the day before. Crab step 8 counts this way; crab step 8 counts that way. Watch out for the cracks while pushing it to the limit makes for thirsty mouths and sweaty heads.
I arrived at rehearsal to stretch out, completely in a daze. I do not want to stretch I just want to lie down on my back and go back to sleep. Only thing that stretches without effort is my mouth as it opens wide letting out a hardy French horn with megaphone sounding yawn.
Wake up!?!? Is it really that time? Brush, spit, slamming door, screeching wheels around the corner and flip on the headlights. I whip out a snare stick and play exercise 5 on a book resting on my lap for the next 50 miles. I pick up import from Seattle at hotel by the airport zoom over to the site X.
Saturday End Of Night
I am so hungry? I can't ever remember being so hungry? What the heck is going on?
The last couple of hours of the night are spent playing through the show with full brass and percussion ensemble with the color guard tightly tucked into the center of the massive horn circle. The guests who have dropped in for the evening to check things out are also invited to sit in the center and have their eardrums rearranged.
The drum line packs into the room and rams through tons of new notes. Everyone is pushed to the limit. New brain lobes bloom as neuro shunts are mounted and we work on performing some absolutely beautiful sounding grooves written by the amazing Murray Gussack. He IS the man!
Forget about basic warm up exercises. We have music to learn. You know that program 'Finale'? When somebody jotted down these notes they broke that program something bad. You can't write grooves like this on software like that.
Lunch
I'm really hungry to eat and play. I want to do both at the same time. I can't do either because a client I have for a freelance Identity job I'm working on calls and wants make sure I plan to make it to a meeting right after camp Sunday back in San Jose. Click.
I arrive at Site X and drive over to the waters edge to warm up for the seagulls and sail boats. Then, replace my bottom drumhead. Camp begins with a morning stretch. We bark like dogs then head straight to marching basics and go for it full steam. Focus. We breathe in together, we focus together, we move together and we stay focused.
I go to pick up an import from Seattle by the SF Airport Ramada Hotel. Known at the hotel as Nordeen Kevin, while known to me as Kevin Nordeen. They can't find him for me and he has to take a cab. They just lost a steady customer.
I wake up early, really happy this day has finally come. I throw on jeans and Drum Corps Is Evil T-shirt, head to Starbucks for the usual and crank up the radio to some Techno Jam groove while warming up the hands one at a time.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention at the beginning, Camp Rocked! End of story.
Dennis Mancini
AKA The Snapettes Mom
dennis@renegades.org
|
|
