Not Just Another Contest

It's August, therefore it's time for the Ibaraki Prefecture championships for the All-Japan Concert Band Contest. (Punchy, brassy fanfare with a muffled squawk in the clarinets.)

The Ye Olde Academy concert band has made it to the prefectural level almost every year since I've come on board, the two exceptions being years we didn't participate for some reason. During that time we've seen some ups and downs, but since 2004 we've generally done well, taking a gold medal (i.e. top eight out of twenty-five or so) most times and even being picked to go on to the East Kanto Block championships twice. Even so, the level of competition is intense, and the best overall place we ever managed was third.

This year has been kind of an off year for our music program, and the concert band is no exception, yet they've been in reasonably good shape. The tune we picked to perform at the competition was unusual; instead of the modern, dissonant tunes favored by most powerhouse bands, we did a medley of old English folk songs! I like the piece a lot, but there were some problems with it during our summer training camp, and our guest clinicians were pulling their hair. The kids just weren't doing it well enough. There were also a lot of major issues with the conducting.

Since 2004, the concert band has been Mr. Karatsu's baby, and Mssr. Maestro Ogawa has maintained a standing request that I keep my hands off of it (saying he doesn't want me to step on Mr. Karatsu's toes). The problem is that, while Mr. Karatsu is popular among the students and coaches in a way that is very easy to understand, his conducting style is very simple. He is, after all, a math teacher, and his approach is very logical and formulaic. The guest clinicians have a problem with that. At this year's training camp, though I observed Mr. Ogawa's policy and stayed away from all the rehearsals except the last one, the guest clinicians were particularly hard on Mr. Karatsu, even to the point of humiliating him in front of the students. I felt bad for him, but he definitely seemed to improve.

Cut to the contest date. Normally Mssr. Maestro Ogawa, as the chief director of the music program, would accompany Mr. Karatsu and the concert band to the event, but since Mssr. Ogawa had a full schedule, he asked me to go instead. That's always a bit awkward, since I have very little contact with the concert band till then, but I'm usually happy to go, and this time was no different. I was even asked to help out a bit during the last, pre-contest rehearsals.

The rehearsals went well, but there were still a number of minor problems to pounce on and try to adjust at the last minute. I figured the kids could at least earn one of the silver medals, but I wasn't sure if they were quite at gold quality considering what they were up against. The performance itself, on the other hand, was very well done. It wasn't perfect, to be sure, but the kids nailed it quite well. The solo and small ensemble bits went particularly well. All in all, I thought we had a good crack at a gold medal if nothing else.

During the final awards ceremony, the seven judges were introduced. One of them was one of our longtime regular guest clinicians, a horn instructor, but we hadn't seen him all year (because he was a judge at this event). The judges were then sent off before the awards were announced. As he rose to leave with the others, our usual horn instructor looked down at our group, who were massed in the first three rows of the cavernous hall, and gave us a very deliberate smile. At the time we figured it was aimed at our horn section, who'd given us an almost spotless performance.

We were delighted at the gold medal announcement but not totally surprised. We WERE surprised, however, when they announced that WE HAD TAKEN THE FIRST PLACE SPOT!!!!! Our reaction was basically a great, unison, "HUH??!?" We weren't alone, either. It was the first time ever for us to get higher than third, let alone first(!!!), and we had unseated a number of historied powerhouses. There were some sour faces directed at us, to be sure.

The weather was nasty that day. Thanks to the effects of typhoon #9 (known as Typhoon Morakot or Kiko elsewhere), we'd arrived in a raging downpour and had gone from the bus to the hall huddled under umbrellas. It was raining again after the event was done, hard but not driving, but most of us kept our umbrellas furled. We were too busy dancing in the rain to care.

(For the record, the judge that was one of our longtime clinicians did NOT give us the best score of the seven. He was respectfully harsh.)