Drum Corps: The Curiously Strong Marching Art
by Nikk Pilato

Hey you. Yeah, you. Well, I must be talking to you...there ain't no one else here. You think you're tough? Do you think you're really tough? You wanna prove it? No no no, put your fists down, not that way. Don't make me smack you. If you really want to prove it, come with me. Yup, that's right, follow me. Right here, around this corner. Through this alley. Over that fence. There. You see them? You see those 128 kids out there? That's where you prove you are tough. Pansy band geeks? I beg to differ, mon frere....

What time do you get up in the morning? 9AM? Luxury! And that's after, what, about 7 hours of sleep? Ha! You've got it made. Those kids out there get up at 7 AM, after sometimes as little as 4 hours of sleep. What do you do all day during the summer? Play a few computer games? Watch a little TV? Jerry Springer is featuring lesbians who love puppies on today's show? That's nice. You know what these kids do? They practice. All day. Rain, shine, wind, calm, day, night these kids are practicing. You see that big thing there? That's a contra. Looks heavy, don't it? You see that girl marching with it? She'll do that all day. In the hot sun. You see that big bass drum there? How much do you think that weighs? About 50 pounds? Well, that guy will carry it all day long. What do you carry all day long around your house? The shirt on your back? A nice little BMT you made yourself to tide you over until mommy comes home to make a nice big sirloin? Yeah, you're tough, kid. I can see from your pale complexion and innocent Bambi eyes that you're tough. Hell yeah, that's sarcasm son.... Those 128 kids will practice all day long, in the hot sun, carrying around those heavy instruments, marching their asses off. Then they'll get a break tonight, and have to get into uniform for a show tonight, where they will have to do their entire show in full uniform. You wanna know what they'll do after that? They'll get on buses. They'll get on buses and travel anywhere from a hundred to five hundred miles or more to the next city. They'll sleep on hard gym floors with nothing but a sleeping bag. They'll take cold showers, and they will love it. They'll eat whatever the corps managers can scrounge up, and they'll like it, or they won't eat at all. They'll get some sleep on the bus, but in the end, they'll probably get in sometime around 3 in the morning. Then they'll have to get up at 7 AM and do it all again. For three months, son. No ESPN. No mommy and daddy to hold your hand. No Nintendo, or computer games. No Jerry Springer, or HBO, or bad reruns of "Friends." No skateboarding, no trips to the beach unless you're lucky, and no telephone.

What's that you ask, why would they want to submit themselves to that kind of torture? Hell son, take a look at them. Look at that girl there, spinning that flag with that huge smile on her face. Does she look like she's miserable? Take a look at the drummers, hauling around that heavy equipment, do they look sad? See the one laughing there? Does he look like he's having a terrible time? They love it, kid. They love it, because it's the largest brotherhood they'll ever be a part of. They'll see each other on the streets, and reminisce. They'll keep in touch with each other through thick and thin, despite that Johnny there is from Indiana, and Pete there is from New York, and Melissa is from Missouri. They'll come back to see each other at shows long after they have finished their time in the activity, and it will be like they never left. They will make lifelong friendships. They will come back lean, mean, and tanned to the bone. They will be better marchers, better players, and in most cases, better people. They will learn responsibility. They will learn pride, a sense of belonging, and they will even learn how to do laundry. They will learn about friendship, loyalty, trust, spirit, and tradition. They will learn all this, all the while putting in only a few months of practice and sweat, but oh, the reward they will reap. And they will do it all while you sit at home, in air-conditioned comfort, watching daytime talk shows, and eating anchovy pizza. Here, have an Altoid.

No, it's not too late. They could probably use someone like you. Are you sure you're ready for it? Yeah, there's a show tonight. I am sure that at least one of the corps performing will have a spot open. Go on kid, run on home. Pack. Tell your mom you're going to expand your horizons, learn new things, and make great music. Tell her you're going to make lasting friendships, and learn the value of hard work and commitment. Oh yeah, let's not kid ourselves...tell her it's going to cost some money. But ask her if she would rather have you sitting on your tuckus all summer long, eating all the food in the house, and running up the electricity bill. Hell son, you're offering her a bargain! Go on, get out of here! Have fun, and be a free spirit. Remember, your whole future is lying in front of you...you'll have plenty of time for TV, junk food, and summer laziness when you're older...or maybe you won't, because, I have to warn you kid...once this activity gets in your blood, it never lets go. I think you made the right choice. I'll see you on the field at the end of the summer. And your life will never be the same again. Believe it.

Ladies and gentlemen of the corps of '99.

WEAR SUNSCREEN.

If I could offer you only one tip for the season, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your corps. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your corps until you age-out. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at videos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are not as awkward as you imagine.

Don't worry about competition. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve a guard problem by chewing out the contras. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 am on Rookie Initiation Night.

Do one thing every day that pushes your endurance.

Sing your corps song.

Don't be reckless near other people's drill moves. Don't put up with people who are reckless near yours.

HYDRATE.

Don't waste your time comparing scores. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, you only compete with yourself.

Remember applause you receive. Forget the boos. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old patches. Throw away your old drill books.

STRETCH.

Don't feel guilty if you like drum corps for the rest of your life. The most interesting people I know at 22 are still involved with their corps. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know should be.

Use plenty of Gold Bond. [to those uninitiated, Gold Bond is a powder sent directly from the gods above to aleve the pain associated with chafing]

Be kind to your chops. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll age-out with your corps, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll get a medal, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll instruct at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on DCI's 75th anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are all the other performers.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have two left feet and your guard instructor wonders out loud if brass folk lost the coordination gene.

Read corps handouts, even if you don't remember them two minutes later.

Do not read RAMD posts. They will only make you feel angry.

Get to know your bus driver. She holds your life in her hands.

Be nice to your section. They're your best link to your corps past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends, like corps, come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in drill and personalities, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were a rookie.

Perform in Texas once, but leave before you melt. Perform In Madison once, but leave before it makes you think all cities know about drum corps.

Travel. Other than on a bus.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Scores will fluctuate. Judges will be controversial. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, scores were reasonable, judges were noble, and members respected their staff.

RESPECT YOUR STAFF.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a bingo game. Maybe you'll have a wealthy sponsor. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with props or by the time it's the end of the season, they'll look like crap.

Be careful getting too caught up with drum corps history, but learn from those who lived it. Drum corps history is a form of nostalgia. Reliving it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it better than it actually was.

But trust me on the sunscreen.