Text/Iris Wang

I saw a question on Zhihu: What is the most passionate thing you have ever done?

Immediately thought of:

When I was 15 years old, I participated in the finals of the American Public High School Marching Band (Marching Band) West Coast Association (Western Band Association).

It is a song that probably started at Band Camp during the summer vacation. The summer camp lasted from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day for two weeks. From the beginning of school until November, we will rehearse for at least 10 hours a week. Three movements, each lasting 5-6 minutes.

For the impetuous and academically heavy high school students, this is the so-called three minutes on stage for ten years on stage.

Marching Bands in American high schools (especially public high schools), in addition to halftime performances at home football games, also have their own games to participate in - starting from the beginning of October, there are regional ones every Saturday Basically, you go to a high school in a nearby city to compete. More than two dozen schools gathered together.

The school colors and mascots of each school, the military uniforms of the musicians (one of the characteristics of the Marching Band), the heavy makeup and props (color flags and rifles) of the Color Guard (flag dancer) girls, etc. There are brand-new musical instruments in the school, and parents selling souvenirs at stalls outside the rugby stadium.

After the performance, we sat in the stands holding potato chips, coveting the top school, and pointing at the band of our rival school THHS.

I thought it was a "music feast".

Unexpectedly, more exciting things are yet to come.

At the end of November, with the donations we had been raising through crowdfunding for a long time, the band director waved his hand and rented two luxury buses. After a six-hour drive, a group of us Southern Californians checked into a Northern California motel, too cold to think and too excited to jump up and down. There is an outdoor swimming pool downstairs in the hotel, and a group of boys went to have a party.

The next day was the finals, but it was not the finals, more like a knockout round. I felt good about myself, but I felt even better after the rehearsal. The band director said we were "performing."

After eating an Italian meal cooked by parent volunteers, we returned to the playing field to wait for the awards. It was already dark, and it was freezing high in the stands.

Among more than a dozen bands of the same level, the top five can enter the finals. We held our breath, and the host's voice echoed in the packed stadium. He said: "Sixth place is - wait a minute, we have a tie."

And we froze, although for Discipline swallowed the cheers, but was shaking with laughter inside.

I haven’t reached the finals in many years.

Back in the parking lot, a senior shouted "Free hugs!" and everyone hugged.

That night, the teacher repeatedly emphasized not to party and to have a good rest because there will be the finals tomorrow. But in the middle of the night, I was lying on the bed and suddenly received a text message from my temporary guardian (a parent of a musician): "Are you in the room, or at XXX (restaurant name)?"

The next day, many people rubbed their eyes and climbed on the bus sleepily. It is said that some people did not go to bed until four in the morning.

Then comes the finals.

Rehearsed over and over again, Full Run from beginning to end, to ensure flawlessness.

At Fresno State, a state university where the football field was endless, I once again put on my royal blue and black uniform, arranged the silver ribbon across my chest, and folded it into my cuffs. , put on wrist guards.

Musicians in the same section help each other zip up each other’s backs. Kaitlyn, a Mexican girl, helped me braid a French braid, which is a uniform hairstyle for long-haired people in the band. A boy with long hair also had one braided.

Although it was very hot and sunny at noon, the audience stage was full of people. At this moment, the blood surges up, and the heart beats rapidly for a long time.

The title of the performance was "Ways of the Heart", and my heartbeat was consistent with those notes.

At this time, there were dozens of people around me. We all had blurred faces, and only the name of the school was our name.

Afterwards, watching performances from other schools, especially 4A and 5A high-level band performances, is a real feast.

Top bands come one after another, and it’s dizzying.

Each band has its own theme, and hundreds of people are hundreds of performers. This goes beyond music. It’s more about pure expression and performance.

The girl with Color Guard appeared wearing Leonardo da Vinci’s flying wings, stunning the audience.

The entire orchestra suddenly played the strongest note and appeared out of thin air from behind the scenes like a rolling curtain.

There are young people wearing dark red military uniforms, disappearing and appearing among the props in the woods.

There is a sky-high prop monument, several stories high, but it seems to rise from the middle of the stadium.

A band changed its formation and created a Mona Lisa that was half the size of the stadium.

The dark music style makes people's hair stand on end, but they can't help but applaud the cold narration: "Walking in the dark night, do you hear the footsteps behind you?"

I bought a hoodie and asked the female college student who was tending the vendor to print words on the sleeves for me. Write "Percussion" on the left and "Finalist" on the right.

I'm wearing this hoodie and sitting in the front row of the stands. The majestic music filled the ears. One band after another passed by, but I didn't dare to blink for fear of missing something.

Maybe your eyes can’t recognize every wrong step, but the feeling of blood boiling is real.

You must watch a performance like this in your lifetime.

Better yet—be there.