Suddenly, there were drummers, so many that horns and drums found themselves occupying the same space on the field. Guard materialized with elegant, brilliantly colored silks moving with exquisite grace. There was green grass, thick but well trimmed, warm sun and a quiet, expectant air as we all took to the field.
The show clicked.
Somwhere between the last camp and this, that magical moment was reached wherein a drum corps moves from a bunch of geeks running amok with flag/horn/drum, vainly trying to string together movement, music, and dance to a massive mixed ensemble of dancers and artists creating a living, breathing work of art.
“Horns, turn around and meet the drums…”
There was cohesion. Drum majors and staff hustled back and forth across the field in their own interpretation of the drill. Tuners and Dr. Beat’s in hand they listened, adjusted, and listened again. The corps moved on, drums thundering across the field as eyes moved to confident hands conducting a steady tempo.
“Horns and Drums, turn around and meet the guard…”
There was unity. It all made sense, as the empty spaces were suddenly… no longer empty. Vast voids on the field, in the drill, were obliterated by the gentle grace of a sea of silk. Empty moments of waiting through technical features became moments of interlude between members as ranks of guard stood face to face with ranks of horns. A wink here, a shared smile there, the sudden realization that the guard is beautiful… and then with the sharp repeat of sticks against drum heads, there is a swirl of silk and the show returns, that precious breath of stillness lending it’s energy to the performance.
The show became exactly what it is designed to be. Everyone felt it, lived it, performed it. The trained performers heard it, the excited shouts and screams that simply cannot be held back when one views a field show performance in all its glory. You can feel the horns lock in together as the instruments snap down and up, feel the shared vibration of a hundred pairs of feet hitting the ground in unison. The drumlines thundering beat becomes the heart that drives the show on while horns sing loud and soft in glorious ringing tones, rich and sweet. We live and breathe it and it…in turn… becomes a part of us.
As we worked through the final runthrough Saturday night, the red harvest moon rising above the rooftops in the distance…I felt those things, shared one of those moments, felt myself becoming one with my corps. Sunday, as the Battle Hymn of the Republic swelled through our ranks ~_^ while others gave in to the pure joy and happiness they felt, you could feel it even more…
…the Renegades, are ready.