For the love of the game

At first, I flatly refused to watch Battle of the Brass Bands. I had seen the adverts, the hype and excitement on social media and decided that I couldn’t be bothered with it. It’s some time now since I have been fully involved in brass banding, and despite periodically deciding to start a blog about brass bands, join a band, or just go to a concert, there often seems to be a myriad of reasons to do something else. 

Anyway, I knew what would be coming: my friends and former band mates, succeeding at the highest level. How dare they? I have so many shared experiences with so many of the people featured, including teaching one of them and yet here I am, stuck in an office job with a long commute that restricts opportunities to fully engage in banding or having a social life full stop. My instrument is firmly shut away in its case with several inches of dust collected on the top and my CD and DVD collection are in a box somewhere. In short, why bother watching a TV programme that’s just going to make me feel worse when I have box sets to binge on?

Now it’s not giving away too much (as you’re reading my blog) to say that I changed my mind. Well to a degree. It’s probably more accurate to say I had my mind changed for me, or in practical terms I didn’t simply get up and leave when someone in the same room put the programme on. It all happened one Sunday afternoon at a family gathering. You know, one of those that involves eating far too much food, reminiscing about when we were kids and ends with people squashed on top of each other on the sofa (partly why I couldn’t get up and leave) and arguing over what to watch before Dad walks in and just puts on what he wants.

Well believe it or not (believe it – you’re reading my blog!) I enjoyed it. It was surprisingly easy to get swept away by a hobby I finally admitted that I miss greatly. Indeed, after finishing episode two, I dug out my old Brass in Concert DVDs and spent several hours immersed in them, I practiced for the first time in a long while and actually posted on this blog. Initially this was going to be my opening post, but I changed my mind and reviewed the British Open, and decided to save this until I’d seen all four episodes.

Now it’s perhaps an odd point of view to take, but for me the series depicts a love story. Hear me out here. The key theme underpinning each episode, every contest, every interaction is love. It is the reason why every person featured does what they do. They, and us, are people who have passion, pride and love for our fantastic movement. It reassures me to know that the pressures, anxieties but also sheer joy we feel for banding, are emotions shared by those fortunate enough to play for some of the world’s top bands.

In fair Verona Saddleworth, where we lay our scene

Episode One opens to the strains of Knight Templar which can only mean one thing: Whit Friday. As usual it is raining, and as the cameras pan over the gathering crowds they show a forest of umbrellas and rain coats.

The crowds turn out year after year in all weathers for this event. It is a collective love for this annual takeover of a few villages in the north of England that makes it such a success. If the bands were not prepared to put in the effort to rehearse and perform, if the crowds decided they’d rather stay in the dry in front of the telly, if the organisers decided to take a year off and if the adjudicators decided they had better things to do than sit in a caravan for seven hours then Whit Friday would not happen. For me it is the very essence of the banding movement captured in one contest.

I’ve been fortunate enough to play at Whit Friday and witnessed at close quarters the obvious passion of the people who came to listen saving their places on village streets many hours before the contests were due to begin. There was a palpable sense of excitement and engagement; in short everyone is having a good time. And after all, isn’t that what banding is all about?

And then there’s the featured bands themselves: reigning champions Brighouse, title contenders Fairey, and local heroes Delph. The cross-Pennines Montagues vs Capulets clash adds a spicy competitive edge to proceedings with both David Thornton and Garry Cutt making it plain that they intend to win. We see Ian Dust mapping the optimal route around Saddleworth, and the effervescent Brian Taylor with bad back and thermal underwear leading the way for the younger members of the band. As he so succinctly puts it “what’s a bit of pain when it’s something you love?”

Now this is based purely on the TV recording, but in my opinion, it was clear from the off which way this titanic tussle would go. Pound for pound the two bands were evenly matched on technical playing, but the band in the vintage jackets were able to produce a much larger, rounder sound with greater difference in their loud and quiet dynamics. That’s not to take anything away from Fairey at all, but despite completing eight villages to their rival’s seven they simply weren’t able to match Brighouse’s power.

And unfortunately Delph became somewhat side-lined as the camera’s focused on their heavyweight neighbours. That said, they flew the flag admirably for lower section bands and reiterated that banding is about much more than just the Championship section. We focus heavily on Hannah Rowland, coming back to playing after a break. She explains how she fell in love with banding at her first Whit Friday and at the end of the episode with hard work and determination, that love is as strong as ever. Whatever level we play at, we do it for love and pride in ourselves and the jacket we are wearing.

“Under love’s heavy burden…” (I will not sink) 

In Episode Two, we witness a different manifestation of the love of brass banding. We see Steph Wilkins, principal cornet of the Fairey Band, wrestling with her anxiety of opening up A Brussels Requiem completely on her own at The British Open, and Dan Thomas, Principal Euphonium of Black Dyke, combating stage nerves by focusing on breathing and relaxation techniques. Even virtuoso Richard Marshall has his ways of coping with high pressure events: as the camera pans away from the cornet section, we see he has taken off his shoes.

It’s not just the players either. Prof. Nicholas Childs admits to the camera that he prefers to be on his own while awaiting the results, such is the pressure and expectation which is not only inherent with being the MD of the most famous brass band in the world, but also that which he places on himself. Pressure which, on this occasion, was increased by Black Dyke’s result the year previous leaving the spectre of relegation looming ominously over Queensbury. Surely even the ‘Alex Ferguson of music’ must at times wonder why he continues to put himself through it.

We all know what it’s like to get worked up to the point of feeling ill before going on stage, whether that be a contest, a concert or a solo performance. Look around any bandroom in the moments before going on stage and you’ll see a variety or relaxation and nerve calming techniques being put into practice. Every brass player will be able to talk you through what they do to relax. I went to university with someone who ate copious amounts of oily fish before performing as this supposedly settles the nerves. Sadly on this occasion, I couldn’t find anybody willing to speak on record about what it’s like to take off Richard Marshall’s shoes.

“One fire burns out another's burning, one pain is lessened by another's anguish.”

I must say that Episode Three was my favourite of the series. Even though I knew what was going to happen (and even if I didn’t it was pretty obvious) I have nothing but admiration for Fodens band bouncing back from the brink. In an episode where Grimethorpe feature prominently, echoes of ‘Brassed Off’ are evoked as we see the Cheshire band battle against the odds to take a fairytale victory at that “massive barn” [Barber, J. 2019] in the West End of London.

For any band, to lose their bandroom would present a huge challenge. I think back to the bands I’ve played in, and what would happen if scores, parts, trophies and photos, not to mention instruments were completely destroyed? It would probably mean the end of the band. Bravo to those in the red jackets for their performance of Handel in the Band on the greatest stage, The Royal Albert Hall, and for an ending worthy of the great story tellers.

We move to the Rhondda and, deliberately or not, the film makers once again evoke the spirit of Brassed Off. This time it’s Rob Nicholson who, with the support of his brother in arms Tim Evans, is battling health concerns just to be at The National Finals. This is one of the things I love about banding: we’re all in it together and we’re all determined to make it onto that stage and give our all for the jacket.

Yet more visualisations of love are shown as the legendary Roger Webster takes Colum O’Shea under his wing and as Mark Wilkinson names his child ‘Albert’. Tom Hutchinson brings to life a story I’ve heard told by both of the Childs brothers and we see the camaraderie of all the bands, celebrating or commiserating together in the pub.

The final word falls to architecture enthusiast and historian John Barber. Unable to hold back the tears at the trophy presentation you can see just what victory means to him as he says “I can’t tell you how much this means. It’s wonderful for all the people who give up so much time and effort…it’s a hobby, it’s a passion. But because it’s a hobby and you put so much time into it, it means so much more”.

A contest by any other name 

Brass in Concert is something I have always loved. Don’t get me wrong, I have in the past happily sat through twenty five performances of the same Fourth section test piece, but the variety and controlled madness of the gathering at the Sage has always appealed. I have DVD’s dating back to 2005 and, in the spirit of being swept away in my rekindled love of banding, bought a couple more recently. As a young player I was inspired by a kilt clad Richard Evans leading Brighouse in blowing away the competition in 2007.

In the Fourth and final Episode we watch as Cory comfortably finished top of the pile by a clear eighteen points, with a programme of Romeo and Juliet music that Philip Harper had painstakingly re-scored for band. Brighouse and Rastrick are seen putting long hours into rehearsing their comic item, before Ryan Watkins ‘lovingly’ ends up with a bass drum skin over his head.

Love is shown again, in a slightly more traditional way as Glyn and Helen Williams take on the role of the star-crossed lovers, with the former serenading his wife from the garden. A touching moment, but one which also had me wondering what Glyn had done to deserve being in the garden, at night with just his euphonium in the first place.

And it is the love of competing at the highest level that drove Fountain City Brass Band to travel four thousand miles across the Atlantic to rub shoulders with some of the best in the business. I haven’t got my 2018 DVD yet, but I look forward to seeing their performance properly and whether the full effects of Matt Vangjel’s near suffocation come across well. I’ll admit that I was momentarily concerned for the health of the flugel player but when I realised that it is seemingly a membership requirement to be a ‘Doctor’, my fears were somewhat allayed. All joking aside, it speaks volumes for the dedication and skill of these players that a band which has been in existence for less time than I’ve been alive, can come across and compete toe to toe with some of the biggest names in brass banding.

“Therefore love moderately: long love doth so”

As with everything that we love in life, it is important to remember that for all the downs, there are always ups. It is often easy to come off of the stage screwing yourself up over the one note you got wrong, the entry you missed or the intonation error. As a conductor you fret over the beat you dropped, or that another band had a slightly different interpretation and ultimately pay no attention to remaining 99% you got right. I suppose it is this that makes the feeling of a great performance that much sweeter.

So why on earth do we do it? Why do we put ourselves in the position where we are so worked up that we can’t breathe; where we rehearse for hundreds of hours for a fifteen minute performance, where we are worried that playing one wrong note will cause us great embarrassment? As Helen Williams says in Episode Three “why didn’t I just take up stamp collecting?”

Because we love it!

And that, I think, is the main point here. That everyone involved in banding shares the same passion, pride and love for our quirky, idiosyncratic, brilliant movement. The purpose of ‘The Battle of The Brass Bands’ might be to tell our story to a new audience, to inspire new people to pick up an instrument. But crucially for all of us, it is an important reminder of the reason we got involved in the first place. Love.