Individual Style

Most of the people in last weekend's parades were wearing blends of green, white and orange. Not me - not my colors. But even if you chose the traditional tones, you could stand out by riding a unicycle with flawless posture. (That's the Missouri Botanical Garden float.) Or, you could throw off marching band discipline, turn your face to the sky and assault the heavens with your booming.        

The Entertainment

The museum opened with a performance of the marching band from suburban Normandy High School. Inside, there was a place to pose before a photo of a blues-jazz band from 1920.  Sharp-looking young men.

That's about all I have of this event.  Muddy Waters provides the summary.         

 

And There Was Music

No American parade is complete without marching bands. Sometimes they strut their stuff. Sometimes they rest and prepare.

These organizations are good for young people. Without them, how would we have clarinetists ready to play the opening phrase in Rhapsody In Blue?  

TOMORROW: It's St. Patrick's Day for sure! And how does it resonate in Washington?                       

Who Loves The Cymbals Player?

Some are better accepted than others. Maybe it has to do with the band.                

Paint It...What?

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No patriotic parade is complete without a marching band. But look carefully at the flip-chart sheet music of the horn player above. It's the Rolling Stones Paint It Black, not exactly flag waving and not at all marchable unless you try to force a square peg into a round hole. Sheesh, that song was popular when I was in high school. The tempo is much too fast for marching and, anyway, the Stones' original version, although in 4/4 time, is built on bars made of four fast doublets (listen to Charley Watts rhythm on the drums). The trombonists would trip on their slides. However, by the time the band was stepping down Market Street it was John Philip Sousa all the way. That was just right.

I think I'm going to do theme day for a change tomorrow with an animal shot from the parade.

NOTE TO LOCAL READERS: it's only a few days until our national festival of beer, guacamole dip and giant screen televisions. Oh, and some event in which behemoths repeatedly damage one another's brains. For 25 or 30 years Mrs. C and I have had our own private Stupid Bowl party. We are horrified by the way American football destroys players' bodies and minds for the sake of money and spectacle. We always go out to dinner during the game. If the restaurant is open, you can have your pick of tables and most attentive service. Any like-minded St. Louisans who might care to join us can email me. We have a few choices in under consideration.

Durham School

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There was a racket outside my office window late yesterday morning. I went to the window and saw a dozen or more yellow school buses with marching bands streaming out of the doors. I had my camera with me and went down to take a look - I was headed that way anyhow.

No idea what it was about. One band after another strutted down Market Street but hardly organized into a parade. Never got an explanation. Those still by the buses, though, were happy to pose.

The reason I had my camera was that Citygarden got its first new sculpture in the two years since it opened. Yesterday was the installation and today there is a bit of a party to celebrate. Pix tomorrow.

Ready To March

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Members of the Soldan High School marching band, ready to strut their stuff. Very sharp uniforms and I like the white tubas. But look at the difference in the facial expressions. It all blended once they started playing.

An old Shriner glides down Market Street on Downtown St. Louis 365.

The Beat

At the end of the Annie Malone parade last weekend, some participants hung out on the side streets, keeping the beat going and thumping it off the surrounding office buildings. This young man was with a group of percussionists and dancers in the courtyard of Louis Sullivan's Wainwright Building. It is of great architectural significance, being one of the first couple of steel-framed skyscrapers in the world. (Eleven stories was a skyscraper in 1890.) These kids put on a great improv dance show for their own pleasure but I was fascinated by this young man's disengagement. I liked his crooked yellow bow tie and the way the light played off his face, too.

TOMORROW: Poker Face