I played percussion in a D-grade brass band up until the Christmas just gone. It was my local band, run by a good friend. Basically, I joined two years ago so I could have an excuse to spend more time with him, as our busy paths rarely got to cross. I fronted up with very little previous experience and the expectation of hell, it can’t be hard – I’ve just got to hit stuff. It represented a massive musical learning curve for me over those two years. The main player got sick and I went from taking shitty easy parts to being stuck on the kit most of the time. The only practice I got was at the two-hour rehearsal once a week, and mostly I coped.
From time to time people travelling through would front up to band. They were welcome to come and sit in and play during the rehearsals. When I left town with the aim of travelling I thought I’d do the same, front up to a band in whichever town I was in a the time and have a play. This would keep my skills up and boost my sightreading. It’s with the aim of having a personality building experience to learn to front up to a totally different situation and rely on my skills musically to get me through.
It would have been easy not to do. I looked for a band in town yesterday and got a phone number. They told me when rehearsals were. It would have still been easy not to go. But no, I was determined to put myself into this new situation, with people and music that I’d never seen before.
I get there and the people are nice. I introduce myself to a few and promptly forget all their names, as I’m prone to do. The parts are handed out for piece and I stare blankly. Holy shit. This is miles beyond my capability. Not just miles. Miles upon miles, upon miles, stretching out to a whole ocean away from my current ability. This is not a D-grade band that I have fronted to. It is not, as I was hoping, a C-grade band that would push me a little further. It was a fucking A-grade band, rehearsing for the National championships. Holy shit.
I stayed. At the very least it was a chance to listen to a fantastic professional brass band. I had a hit, and actually did okay for some of it. If I practised my arse off I believe I could do it. It was pure adrenaline for me and the funny thing is I love it. I get onto a high of concentration with adrenaline where I’m in the rhythm zone and it all makes sense.
Ah well, I thought. At least I gave it a go. It was a good experience.
They asked if I’d be back for the next rehearsal. Sometimes the world just blows me away.
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4 comments:
That's the thing I enjoy most of all, Vic; coming into a band or a studio cold and having to be perfect first time.
I LOVE IT!
I always feel - especially at the start of solos - that it's like doing a tightrope walk with no safety net. You hit the first note and try to make it to the other side without falling off.
It's a real fucking rush and I am so damned glad you get that, too. Most musicians are scared shitless of doing it but it makes you feel so alive.
Welcome to my addiction, Groover.
Very cool story, Vic. We have visitors from out of town sometimes. A psychologist from Oregon plays us with once every summer. You just have to jump in and see what happens.
adding to my list of "things to do before I die"
#37- see/hear vic play.
Hey Vic,
Well too good for us now... only joking, keep up with the random visits to bands it will only make you better but remember to visit us where it all started.
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