ADDRESS Drum Corps - A personal reflection K. Alex Mckinley hpamckin@hotmail.com Introduction. In 1990 I was introduced to an activity that would change my life forever. This activity, drum corps, has eternally stamped an impression on my soul. Although I never have marched in a Drum and Bugle Corps myself, I have felt the overwhelming presence of the activity flow through my blood. Ten years later I find myself looking back on the great experiences shared and look forward to my annual visit with the activity. This is the story of my experiences. In the beginning .... My first Drum Corps experience was not a fond one. I remember being pulled along to the local show by the rest of the drumline. It was my sophomore year in high school. The concept of a drumline was still sinking in. Its easy to remember the enthusiasm of the veteran members of the drumline. They were excited to go watch other drumlines rehearse through out the day. I remember thinking "Why do I want to watch other drumlines?". Sure, I had fun drumming with my peers but to watch total strangers practice all day. I passed on that. All I really remember from that first show (1990) was the white "pinball" machine tarps that the Concord Blue Devils had out on the field. Pretty eventless night. I watched some "marching bands" for what felt like hours and then went home. This mentality stuck with me through the 1991 season, although now I was a veteran of the Roy High School Drumline. It was time to watch the marching bands again. It was a ritual I could tolerate. I could see that they (the Drum Corps) were much better than my high school marching band. It did fascinate me to see how many people attended this yearly performance. How could so many people find this "stuff" interesting? 1992 was the year I led the percussion battery. It was an invitation that I welcomed with open arms. There were many rookies to be trained but that did not bother me. They were very fun to work with. Rod Wayman (band director) choose to bring in some private instruction for the drumline. Ryan and his wife Julie helped us throughout the season. They were very fanatical about the Santa Clara Vanguard. Their enthusiasm spread through the drumline like a fire. That enthusiasm helped me find some passion about these yearly shows that I attended. It was the first year that I thought "This is cool". Still, I had zero comprehension of what went behind the scenes. All I knew was that I wanted to try it out. While waiting for my drum lesson at a local university I noticed a poster advertising auditions for the Blue Devils. I wrote down the number and began several conversations with Dave Glyde (then percussion caption head). What an awesome guy to talk to. I'm sure he could tell I had no experience but he still guided me into a potential direction. We discussed the possibility of me playing the cymbals on the drumline. I thought "Cymbals, I can handle that". Reality said I didn't have a chance at being the drumline water boy. It was very fun and insightful chatting with Mr. Glyde. He definitely inspired me to seek this new passion. The fall of 1992 has become a marker in my life. I found something to become consumed by. Drum Corps was still a mystery to me though. It was very hard to understand the activity because I did not know anyone in it. It was very difficult to find anyone who had marched in a Drum Corps from Utah. The few that did march seemed mature beyond years. I remember watching a drumline rehearsal of the 92 Santa Clara Vanguard Drumline. They carried themselves like men. I was sure that they were 25 year old men with forged birth certificates. No one could be that good at 19. The 1992 PBS Broadcast "fueled my fire". My love had become an obsession. There were only a select few kids in Ogden, UT that seemed to have this passion. The only video footage between this small group was the Vanguard rehearsal and the 92 Finals broadcast. There was only one thing to do. Watch these videos over, and over, and over. If my family were to hear one of the top 6 corps from that year without knowing the year they would be able to "call it". There's a first time for everything. Finally, I had found a family that loved the activity just as much as I did. They were a Blue Knights family. What great people. They took me to my first few audition camps and helped me explore my passion with long discussions on what it takes and what happens in auditions. I was truly blessed. Still, I would showed up to the BK camps with no idea of what to expect. My drum instructor suggested I head straight for the snare drum room. "No way" was my reaction when I saw all of the potential drumline candidates. It was very easy to see they were mature beyond my years. I remember seeing a veteran tenor drummer walking around. He had a 5 o'clock shadow. He looked like he had been around the block a few times. There were "vets" smoking and chatting with other "potentials" calm and casually. All of this information was seen and processed in a matter of seconds. I immediately decided to start in the bass drum room and would move over from there. I managed to hold my own in with the other bass drummers. I had my moments of mental anguish as I tried to learn the exercises taught just seconds ago. The stress was not enjoyable. I found my home on drum #5. Being on drum 5 left me with a challenge right in my ballpark. Nothing to overwhelming and nothing to demanding. I learned the cadence that was be performed with the rest of the drumline with ease. Another "gentlemen" was put on "my drum" right before the ensemble rehearsal, just to give him a shot. I felt like he had invaded my territory. HE DID! They decided this kid was the one to perform with the drumline during the rehearsal. The infamous Glen Crosby ran the ensemble rehearsal that evening. I remember him giving the "potentials" a brief history of the cadence being worked on. It was called "What the funk was I thinking?". If I recall correctly the Velvet Knights were the first to perform the piece. Mr. Crosby gave me the opportunity to put on drum #5 to show my stuff. I didn't rehearse with the drum on. As soon as that sucker was put over my shoulders I thought I was going to die. The weight alone put my mind into a panic. Mr. Crosby asked me to hit the drum as hard as I could (the cadence relied on a heavy back beat). I am left handed, I was asked to hit it with my right. BOOM! BOOM! "Harder" Mr. Crosby would say. He ended up giving me a "That's all you've got?" kinda look and walked away. "Did I hit it hard enough? Did I play the part right? Am I going to get cut now?". These were the things that went through my head after he had walked away. I ended up at one more BK camp. The excitement and energy that was at the first camp had me returning to Denver. I didn't realize that I didn't stand a chance. I don't think the drum staff would think I'd show up for a repeat performance. Needless to say, that was the end of that. Just stopping by. I made an appearance at the Casper Troopers camps the following winter. A close friend (Darren) and I thought that we would see what was going on. We enjoyed their 1993 production and looked forward to their 94 season. The camps were fun and we met a lot of great people. Pat Ammon and his percussion staff were excited about the upcoming year and seemed very pleased with the talent that had showed up. My friend and I made several return trips to the Troopers camps but were never sold on there upcoming program. Eventually, we were guaranteed a spot on the line. Darren (my friend) and I were so excited to be on the Trooper Drumline. Unfortunately, I fell into peer pressure. Pat had handed out the drum feature for the 1994 production. It had its challenges but lacked intensity and notes. Those two ingredients were essential to our love for the activity. Darren decided to quit and dragged me down the path with him. We left without a word. I feet terrible for acting so irresponsibly. Eventually, I would want my spot back. I called Pat near the end of the month of March. My plan was to beg for my spot back only if he called within a week. He didn't return my call until several weeks later. I was sad and apologized for leaving him hanging. What a professional. He treated like nothing happened and I left the conversation feeling at ease. Darren and spent the 1994 season on the sideline. We were still uncomfortable with being in the stands instead of on the field. Darren and I had a local reputation for being obsessed with the activity. When the drum corps would stop by for their annual visit to Utah we would we felt like we had to shovel a load of crap to people to explain why we were not a Blue Devil. We didn't quite understand either. That year we vowed to take a shot at the Devils. The whole summer was spent drumming. We spent a lot of time drumming together. Darren and I spent hours on end practicing incorrectly . Our focus was on "chops" verses quality of sound and timing. I did get strong, I just couldn't play in time very well. That summer I was obsessed with getting my hands on some drumline exercises from the Vanguard. I had a master plan on how to get the goods. The plan was to approach the Vanguard percussion staff with a case of beer. Some how I managed to convince my brother to buy me a case of beer as negotiation leverage. The staff treated us very kindly. They gave us very little. We were disappointed with the end result but took what we could get. The head percussion instructor offered to have the drumline sign a few drumheads for us. We were very disappointed to be honest. The signatures meant nothing. We wanted the drum book for their 1994 show. They gave us a line about copyright laws. What could we do? Two non-beer drinker with a case of beer. The exercises worked well enough. We ended up feeling very appreciative of what we had. "Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth." - Kathrine Mansfield Some may have called it stupidity to take a chance like Darren and I did. We felt it was time to act on what we wanted more than anything, to be a Blue Devil. On a late Fall night Darren and I had decided we would take our next paychecks and move to Concord, CA. Home of the Blue Devils. That went occurring to plan. We shoved everything we could into my little Honda Prelude and left our families. It was through our church where we found our apartment. Upon arrival to Concord we had a tenant interview where we were told it would take a day to process our information before we could move in. We had no where to go. Our first day was spent searching for a place to live. It was easily one of the most exhausting days of my life. After spending our day searching for a home we were still homeless. Nothing needed to be said about our sleep depravation. My body was hammered. I demanded sleep, but where? The only place we knew was the Blue Devil Corps Hall. The hall is located in an industrial type of park. It was out of the city and had nice green grass. This lovely grass turned out to be my bed my first night in Concord. Any other night I would have been pretty frightened by sleeping in such unlikely circumstances. Not this night. We pulled near the Blue Devils equipment trailers, I grabbed my blanket and off to bed I went. I did not become coherent again until the sun came up. Its easy for me to remember waking up and seeing the souvenir trailer. Darren and I discussed how cool it was to be where we were. That night we auditioned for Scott Johnson, the Blue Devils Percussion Caption Head. We walked with a few other potential members. I remember one guy looking like a skater kid with his drumsticks in his back pocket. This seemed "juvenile" to me and I quickly began mocking the musician quietly to my friend. It turns out this "juvenile skater" ended up next to the snare captain on the drumline (a very good place to be). I realized I was quick to judge when I heard all of the other percussionists in the audition. I didn't have to look at them. The near perfect sound coming from the audition room was enough to ensure me some humiliation. Still, I went in for my audition with Mr. Johnson. It didn't last long. I didn't stand a chance. I ended up at the Santa Clara Vanguard Drumline auditions. At the time Jim Cassella was preparing for his first year as the percussion caption head. I did well at the auditions. Darren didn't do as well. He quickly decided he would head home. I continued to audition and felt very good about my chances. There were some things that would interfere with my fantasy. I was very poor and I had to get Darren home ( I had the car). We drove home and I convinced myself not to drive back to Santa Clara. My reality said that I had too many financial obligations to deal with. This was another side to drum corps I didn't think about. Its not just become a talented percussionist, I also had to deal with being financially responsible. Now. That was it for all attempts at a spot on a drumline. At the time it hurt like nothing else. I lived for wearing a jacket from the corps I was to march with. This fantasy never happened. As I became older I watched other local kids brag about their time spent marching with great drum corps and noticed a cool strut as they walked around in their corps jackets. Tough to swallow? Yes. That was suppose to be me. I still admire the kids with the cool corps jackets. Maybe I'll be able to find one at the Salvation Army some day. What's really important. Not drum corps. I didn't think I'd be able to face the world without marching somewhere. At the time everyone I associated with and everything I did revolved around music. Its kinda fun to sit back and look at the passion I once had. Now I find myself explaining what drum corps is more then explaining why I never did it. I try to start a spark of interest for those who have never heard of the activity. I'm still trying to find ways to NOT compare it to a marching band. That seems to be the quickest route at times. Still, I love the activity that loved me.