FOR me, music has always been about emotion.
It can evoke memories, stir passions, lead you into a magical world, chew you up and spit you out a different person.
Last night, my wife and I witnessed the magic of the Band of HM Royal Marines (Plymouth). It was her first military band concert. I’m a bit of a past master, because my grandparents first took me to see the white pith-helmeted players back in either 1979 or 1980.
I remember my grandmother stomping away to one of the marches and an irate woman in front turning around and giving me a right telling off.
But then that’s the Royal Marines. You can’t help tapping away.
Always brilliant, always the consumate professional musicians, always the wonderful sense of humour.
My wife had been nervous booking the tickets. She had never been to a military band concert and didn’t know quite what to expect.
She loved it.
‘Would you like to go to another military band concert?’ I asked afterwards.
‘Definitely,’ she said without hestitation.
These marine musicians could walk into any of the top orchestras in the world, but it’s a one-way street. Players in the top orchestras couldn’t walk into the Royal Marines Band.
Time was, the players, who all had to pass the commando course to earn the coveted green beret and worked as medics and the like.
Last night, we learned that during lockdown band members drove lorries transporting fuel around the UK, helped out with Covid tests and giving Covid jabs.
And band leader WO2 James Parkinson, who shared front of band duties with Sergeant Matt Green, said that the musicians, together with their colleagues in the sister RM bands, would be marching 13 miles a day in preparation for Beating The Retreat at Horseguards Parade in May.
There was a moment of reflection, too. I wonder what my grandparents would have made of this latest incarnation of the band. My guess is that they would have loved it, too.
They never went out, never went to the pub or restaurants and socialised. The one time they ever had a night out was when the military bands were in town. The Royal Marines, the Blues and Royals, the Grenadier Guards under Major Peter Parkes, the Coldstream Guards under Major Trevor Sharpe (whose place in popular musical history was assured when they did the closing credits march at the end of Dad’s Army) and the Central Band of the RAF.
I explained recently to my wife that it was rare to see Grandad get emotional or show his feelings, but there was always a tear in the eye for the former Spitfire and Mustang pilot when they played the Royal Air Force marchpast.
Last night’s gig was emotional for me because of all those memories. And the delight in creating new ones with my wife.
But it was the horror in realising it was only the third night out we had had together, without the kids, in five years. We were always out socialising, in pubs, clubs, restaurants, sports clubs, you name it and the last thing I ever expected was to mirror my grandparent’s life.
Although WO2 Parkinson hinted at a return to the Hall For Cornwall soon, so, you never know.
mark a forster 