*this blog was previously published on musicanwages.com

Zero dark twenty five in the morning.  35 cold and groggy folks gather in identical gray workout uniforms on a field of dead grass.

“You got all your folks?”

“Yeah, Top”

“Got all yours?”

“DiStefano’s missing, First Sergeant.”

“Where is he?”

“The  rear tire fell off his car,  as he was pulling out of his garage.”

Grumble grumble. “How come nobody’s car ever breaks down when they’re driving home? No, that would be against the almighty laws of the universe.  I guess the cars just know, right? Not to trap you at work.  Is that it? Everybody here driving Smart Cars? … just go do P.T.”

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0630 – 0730 – Physical Training. I’ve done everything from running 5 miles to yoga, from frisbee football to combatives (grappling with your coworkers,  on a wet field, engulfed in a swarm of tiny black gnats).

0730 – 0900 – free time (showering and eating breakfast are strongly encouraged during this time… especially showering)

0900 – 0930 – Formation. The band drinks coffee and receives any pertinent information from the First Sergeant;

“Clean my damn building! The Colonel may be coming through this week, so make sure you show him the proper courtesy. Then come find me, he doesn’t need to hear all about how you stubbed your toe watching SpongeBob. And try not to act like jack asses.”

0930 – 1130 – Rehearsal. Concert Band, Latin Band,  Country Band, Woodwind Quintet, Saxophone Quartet, etc. etc. etc. Somebody will be destroying the silence for 2 hours. Bring earplugs.

1130 – 1300 – Lunch.  On the days I don’t go out for lunch,  I’d eat for a half hour and then play the video game “Halo” for the rest of the break.  This would involve several grown men shouting at the top of their lungs;

“Damn, Scotty!  I just made you my B**ch!!”

“IN. YOUR. FACE!”

“Wow, Mikey. I’m embarrassed FOR you.”

“Nice try, Josh.  Does your husband play too?”

1300 – 1500 – Rehearsal. A different group from the morning.

I should also mention that there’s no set way of learning the music.  Sometimes you have sheet music,  sometimes you’re given a cd.  And some times you’ll play the song,  feeling the groove,  only to the have the bass player suddenly stop, glare at you and the drummer, and say;

“I’ll bring in a recording tomorrow,  so you can get a BASIC IDEA of how this is supposed to sound.”

1500 – 1600 – Shop work, individual practice, clean the building.  This is a bit misleading,  as shop work and practicing can be done anytime during the day that you’re not involved in a rehearsal. Most people are not in every ensemble.

Allow me to explain “shop work”.  The band is a self sufficient unit.  We do everything from booking our own gigs to ordering new tubas,  to planning the schedule to making sure everybody is up to date on required training (motorcycle safety, sexual harassment, the dangers of mowing your lawn while drinking).

The good news is most new folks are not given too much shop work.  New musicians get plenty of time to practice.  As a new Soldier your main job is “Not to Suck”.

Of course,  if you’re only playing bass clarinet in the concert band two hours a week, you’ll find yourself spending more time “rockin’ the desk”.

1530 – 1630ish –  Go home.

And the rest of the day is yours.  You can gig in civilian bands,  go to college, sit around in your underwear.

Many days my wife has come home from work,  only to find me lounging around in my socks, T shirt and underwear.

“What are you, like three years old?”

“uh…”

“You look like a toddler. Did you clean the garage yet?”

“Just let me put on some shorts.”

Insert eye rolling here.

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On the gig days, the schedule changes.  If you have a gig in the evening,  you’re off after lunch.  You’re working over the weekend,  you’ll get a day off the next week.

At many bands, you’ll play Soldier’s graduation ceremonies: basic training,  cooking school,  tank driving school, etc. These gigs tend to be pretty regular,  as the Army is constantly churning out more troops.

When I was stationed at Ft. Benning, GA we played a ceremony every thursday and friday morning. But after the gig on friday morning,  we were done.  By 1 pm,  all of us guys in the barracks (Army dorms) were drinking beer and playing croquet with no shirts on.  Our barracks wrapped around a huge grass field,  and across the field was a school for Infantry officers.  Many times,  they (the student officers) would be lined up on the other side of the grass, in full combat gear waiting to go on a “camping” trip. I have often wondered what they must of thought of us, strutting around with our croquet mallets in one hand,  cold beer in the other,  soaking up the sunshine and enjoying the summer.  Friendly banter floating across the grass;

“Damn, Josh. I just made you my B**ch!”