For the seniors, with love.
Some events in life are of such tremendous importance to us that the time spent simply anticipating them is orders of magnitude longer than the time we spend actually experiencing the event itself. For high school marching band’s greatest stage, this is by design. Despite what you may have seen, that 8-minute timer on the Alamodome scoreboard doesn’t start counting down in early November. In reality, it starts ticking away in early August as we are all beginning to wonder if it could be any hotter. Life choices are questioned as a voice from the tower commands, “Back to set one.”
Former band students of all ages will attest, even decades after putting away the marching shoes, your heart rate will always climb when you hear the commanding ring of a DB-90. The muscles in your legs tighten as if ordered to do so by the metronome itself and, for a brief moment, you worry about finding your next dot before remembering that you graduated long, long ago. On early mornings and late nights, the effort that any band puts into mastering the details of their show is measured by a punishing number of repetitions. On the field or in the band hall, in the practice room or in the warm-up lot, the performance at State Marching Contest is a project many months in the making.
All of that time, effort, sweat, noise, and urgency to perform, these things are the essence of competition… but do not be fooled: This not where band happens.
Band happens on the bus. When you are either too hot or too cold and have only a vague idea of what time it is as you make a futile effort to sleep while your head rattles against the window on the way back from a football game 3 hours away. Sitting across the aisle from your friend, you laugh to tears as you both watch a video that your section leader sent from the bus behind yours while you are on the highway. A non-insignificant amount of time is spent contemplating whether bringing two squishy pillow animals was enough or if you should have brought a third.
Band happens in the parking lot. You perform a juggling act in an attempt to keep your uniform from falling into a puddle of water while you hop on one foot, squeeze your gauntlets under your arm, and hold your sleeves with your teeth. Retrieving your plume from the box, you hear someone tell a freshman that they have theirs on backward… it shouldn’t be funny after all these years, but you still laugh every time. At some point you recall brushing your teeth at 5 AM under the soft glow of a Walmart sign and remember thinking that nothing has ever felt both as liminal and perfectly normal at the same time. What would people from other parts of the world would think of the color guard, dressed in bright colors and makeup, as they utter a strange and disjointed battle cry before breaking their huddle and prancing to get in line with the rest of the band?
Band happens at the dinner table, but not the one in any dining room most might think of. No, your dinner table is that bit of shade next to the ticket office of a strange football stadium, sitting on the ground and resting your back against a tan brick wall works just fine as a chair (even if it does snag your undershirt). The dinnerware is made of the finest Styrofoam, holding a fajita spread that is currently attempting to escape with the wind. It is made from scratch with the unending love of the band boosters who arrived two hours prior to prepare it and will stay after you leave to pack everything back up. The dinner bell is a bright green notification on your phone from your director calling for seconds, you instinctively join the others in bracing for impact as the trombone section stampedes back to the line to finish off what remains of the food. It’s always the trombones.
Band happens at the mall in another city, you know the one. As you proudly exit one of the stores with a band trip souvenir, you freeze in front of the barber shop and turn to see that one guy who decided to get a haircut on a band trip… in a mall… but somehow, knowing that guy, it isn’t surprising at all. Standing in the food court, you weigh your options, wishing you hadn’t eaten everything in your snack bag 3 minutes after leaving the school because nothing here sounds good. It occurs to you, standing in a mall in tall black socks and athletic shorts would be really weird if you weren’t doing it with 130 of your closest friends. All other thoughts disappear when you notice a guy from the saxophone section holding hands with a color guard girl and all you can think is, “Those two?!”
It is when you stand side by side with your bandmates and deliver the next note with everything you have because they deserve your best and because you owe it to yourself to realize your potential. The celebrations are not for trophies, rather they are monuments to the fulfillment of our duties to each other and to ourselves—the culmination of everything that made us who we are, an opportunity to pause and appreciate that marching band brought us together… and it brought us here.
It is when you take a freshman under your wing and, not only help them to learn what they need to know, you make them feel just as important as an upperclassman because the success of the band is everyone’s responsibility. You learned that from someone not long ago, and now it is your turn to pass it on. Choosing to be the person you needed when you were their age is the ultimate lesson.
Band happens when you step off for the final time. When there is nothing more to give because you left it all on the field, including your tears. When you look up, eyes wide open against the bright stadium lights, and sink into wondering if you will ever have anything like this again. After the wave of uncertainty washes over you and it fades into the back of your mind, you must let yourself accept that it is, in fact, over. But in your heart you know—there can be no mistake—you are right where you are supposed to be.
When learning each show, from set to set, you were taught to be aware of where you came from, where you are, and what your next move is. Likewise, over the last 4 years, it has been such a gift to see where you came from and I could not be more proud of where you are now, but believe me when I say that it gets so much better… and I can’t wait to see your next move.
Seen
In the 2023 season, The Pirate Pride Band advanced to the UIL State Marching Band Contest for their second consecutive appearance. Their show was entitled “Seen”, and featured works from Billie Eilish, Frank Ticheli, Leonard Cohen, and Samuel Barber. Visuals for the show portrayed a tale of Medusa, Gorgon of Greek mythology, using storytelling components involving members from both the color guard and the wind ensemble.
This is my 9th year as the band photographer. I have covered this program for longer than any other during my time as a volunteer for Lubbock-Cooper ISD. There have been so many wonderful and talented students come and go, along with a number of memorable performances. With the opening of a second high school in the district and the loss of 35 band members, I think anyone would have forgiven the Pirate Pride Band for taking a step back… but these kids were never going to accept such excuses.
To put it simply, they are built different.
Somehow, after losing more than 1/5th of their membership, they emerged in the 2023 season with more volume and power than any band I have ever heard on Woodrow Road. This year’s group featured a wonderfully clean high brass section, a front ensemble and battery that lived in each others heads, and bore a sweeping sense of ownership and maturity that is exceedingly rare for such young people. It is abundantly clear that there will be no “taking a step back” for this band. We march on.
Proceeding a stone-cold preliminary performance, the band left San Antonio with a 19th place finish; a spot that put them 6 places ahead of their prior finish among a more crowded field. For those who might not understand the world of marching band, the trajectory of this program is not something that anyone outside of Lubbock could have anticipated or expected. They will return to Lubbock as a top-20 5A marching band in the state of Texas, right on the cusp of competing for a greater prize in state marching finals.
At the risk of repeating myself: ‘Proud’ just doesn’t quite cover it. It is a privilege to cover this program and an indescribable honor that you, my band family, have allowed me to share your stories with the world. It is my hope that you never doubted my confidence in you, both as a person and as a performer, and that you charge into the world ready to share the kindness you’ve shown me with reckless abandon. Thank you for making me feel like a member of the band, and for being my friends.
P.S. — To the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors… Let’s do this again sometime. I’m free next Summer.