Back to Brass In Concert

I’ve recently started introducing my kids to the Brass in Concert DVDs I grew up with — the 2006 to 2013 years in particular. Whether that period really was the pinnacle of the contest, or whether that’s just my own bias talking, I’m not entirely sure. It might be a bit of both, it might be because I didn't buy another DVD after that one (student budget and all). Either way, those recordings still feel like something special. It’s a contest I’ve always wanted to experience live, though being more or less at the opposite end of the country has kept it firmly on the “one day” list for now.

What’s been most interesting, though, is watching the boys discover it for themselves. There’s been no steering, no nudging, no “you need to listen to this bit” rather just letting it play and seeing what they take in. And already, they’re gravitating towards certain performances, certain moments, certain sounds. More often than not, they’re the same ones that stuck with me all those years ago and there’s something quite reassuring in that; that instinctive reaction to quality, to entertainment, to something that just connects straight away.

Those DVDs were a big part of what pulled me back into playing after retiring in my early teens. At that point, banding felt quite small, quite routine, something I did because I had to. And then suddenly you’re watching these performances and realising just how much more it could be. The creativity, the risk, the sheer sense of occasion felt like a different world. It wasn’t just about playing the music well anymore; it was about presenting something, building a programme, holding an audience.

Certain images have stuck with me ever since. Richard Evans and Brighouse, in particular demonstrating that swagger and sense of just having fun as they moved through a programme that knew exactly what it was trying to be. There was personality in everything they did. It was bold, deliberate, and completely in control. Watching that as a teenager made an impression musically, helped me to understand what a band could be.

Coming back to those same recordings now, years later, there’s a different layer to it. There’s nostalgia, of course and remembering the first time I watched these DVD's with my own Dad, as well as an appreciation for how well it still holds up. It doesn’t feel dated. and if anything, it reinforces just how strong those performances were.

But more than anything, it’s the shared experience that stands out now. Sitting watching it again, this time with my own children, seeing those same moments land in exactly the same way without any explanation, or influence on my part is something I hadn’t really anticipated. It’s a reminder that the things that connect, really connect, don’t always need context. They just work.

And maybe that’s the real value of those recordings. Not just what they were at the time, but how they continue to carry something forward, quietly shaping taste, sparking interest, and, every now and again, reminding you exactly why you started in the first place.