Originally Published 04/28/2024

It’s spring 1990 and time for the last concert of my senior year at my alma mater. Thoughts forward and back flooded my mind as my final concert in highschool was about to happen. It was going to be a surreal concert as all others prior for my this year were as I opted out of the orchestras. Having 7 classes a day for 3 years and spending much of that time trying to manage and assist the drumline was tiring on me. So for these concerts I was strictly an usher and stagehand where needed.

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Things are well in hand, the audience is all seated and all stages are set for the elementary and high school bands, I grab a seat in the front row ready to enjoy this final concert as a spectator. Or so I thought.

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As I steady myself in my seat, the band director beckons me over. I sprint over figuring something from the band room was needed which I’d grab post haste. I was handed a folder full of music. The band director explains the snare drummer for the symphonic band was a no show and that I need to site read the concert. He laughed and said “let’s have some fun Anthony, we’re on in five, take a look at the music, the first piece should interest you”.

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I gasped and thought for a moment took a deep breath and made my plan. I’d grab my sticks asap and spend as much time as I can with the music. I sprint to the band room and grab my smallest nylon tips sticks and then back to the gym with the folder under my sleeve. I grab a chair and practice though the first piece noticing at it’s start “solo”. I analyzed it and each subsequent piece noticing the patterns in the notes and the dynamic shifts. The pieces were straightforward and I was ready which was just in time as the concert is about to begin.

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I grab my music and sticks and make my way on stage to the snare drum joining the Symphonic orchestra. The band tunes and I double check my instrument, tightening the snares and the muffle to the sound and feel I like. I face forward at the band director with my music and stand just to the right at lowest eye level.

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The band director turns around and introduces the band to the audience to nice applause. I feel and hear my heartbeat a little. This is going to be something to remember. I take a quick glance at my solo to come as the band director turns around and looks square at me a s smiles. He raises his baton and I raise my sticks then the downbeat and my solo. I gently rat-a-tatted my part as the drum responded to everything my hands did. In all honesty It was pretty rudimentary but I tried as always to make it sound good. I guess the way I played it sounded different than the band was used to as they all turned around and looked at me which made me very uncomfortable. I carefully read ahead and played the part flawlessly (thank goodness). We finish the piece and I let out a soft sign of relief. Then the next piece sad next piece my confidence growing from the first to the last.

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After completing the concert the band director patted me on the back and said “Wasn’t that fun Anthony” I responded with “I guess?” as I gathered myself and he laughed again.

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I thought to myself as I headed home later how crazy my last concert really was. I’d never have do that again l, well, until a couple of years later in college. I’d white-knuckle my concerts with the jazz band and chamber singers in where I’d learn the parts to their portion of it the night of the performance…

-aaa