Festival Doesn't Involve Clowns

Last week, all the groups from my band program went all the way to West Forsyth for something we call "Festival". Other groups from all over the county went too, including middle schools. My best friend's brother is a middle school drummer, and she told me about how excited he was for Festival, since he couldn't wait to go on the rides. She then had to be the bearer of bad news and tell him that Festival isn't what it's name implies.

Festival is nothing more than a really big concert. Its actual name is the Large Group Performance Evaluation, but let's face it; that's a mouthful. A band spends about two months preparing three pieces; a march, a lyrical piece, and a technical or finale piece. All pieces must come from a master list, and every piece has a grade ranging from one to six. Sixes are the hardest music, and can only be played by the very top groups. When you go to your district festival, you play on a stage in front of three judges, who critique you on various aspects of your performance. Then you go to another room, where you sightread a piece of music you have never seen before. This is done to prove that students are musically literate; the equivalent of reading comprehesion in Spanish class. You get scores ranging from one to four, with one being the highest. Straight ones are what everyone shoots for.

This year for Festival, my band is going all or nothing; a straight six program. Our opener is His Honor, a Fillmore march that has the woodwinds' fingers flying at the very end. After we play the whole thing, my director often asks us if our hand are on fire yet. Most of the time, they are indeed metaphorically on fire. Our lyrical is a piece called Irish Tune From County Derry by Percy Grainger. You might recognize the tune as Danny Boy, but in reality this piece is much older than the song. Honestly, I sit there and do nothing for fourty one straight measures, while trying not to kill out of tune trumpet players with my broken reeds. It's a beautiful song, but you have to be perfectly in tune, otherwise it's completely ruined. The finale is The Marriage of Figaro overture by Mozart. Originally written for strings, the only word that can describe this piece is insane. It is played at around 290 beats per minute, which is certifiably crazy. Fingers fly for four and a half minutes straight, and after the very last note, I have a weird desire to stand up and scream "I DIDN'T DIE!!!!!". But I can't do that, even though it would be downright hilarious.

Festival is the primary opportunity that student musicans have to show what they know. Academic classes have EOCT's and such; band has Festival.