Descriptive Essay About A Descriptive Paper

I wish that Jason could sing with me but there was no argument when Echo told me the song only required one set of vocals. After getting lost in my worried thoughts for a minute, my mind went back to reality when the lights dimmed and the crowd got quiet. My heart raced and it took all my strength to stand still and hold back tears. "Now everyone, this is our last entry for the competition but I've heard great things from this group and am sure they will impress you. Now playing the song (song name here) is (school name here) Middle School's Junior Music Group!" The announcer said in an excited voice. My stomach sank when he basically told the crowd to have high expectations but I knew I couldn't chicken out now. The curtains started to separate and bright lights started to blind me from the large crowd, which was good in this case. I knew now that I was facing the biggest challenge of my life and that if I failed to complete this challenge, my dreams of a musician would collapse, so I didn't take this lightly. I adjusted my posture one more time and with trembling hands I signaled Tori to begin her

The other band finished their song. The audience clapped, and hooted, and called out embarrassing pet names for their kids. We walked on stage and sat in our designated seats. The stage lights beating down on us were hot and I needed to squint to see. The audience was a collection of tiny dark specks I was looking out at past Brown’s wide yellow clad torso. Zoe had pulled the music stand in front of us into position, flipping through the pages in the folder and finding the song and the solo page. She handed the latter to me. I grabbed it hard, crinkling the side. And Brown began counting the tempo. Brendan stood and went over to the music stand. I would follow after twenty measures. We lifted our instruments into playing position, and I bit down hard into my mouthpiece. Brown was snapping his fingers softly and began to mouth the tempo. I let my foot fall into the rhythm of the

Though a heavy depression weighed down on all of us, we still had to load up the semi. The work was difficult and tedious, but it was necessary. As we began to slowly push the vibraphone up the teetering ramp, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. The others continued up the steep incline once I halted to turn towards whoever had jabbed me. My day had been disastrous. Everyone seemed to be irritated both before and after the performance, barely anyone had actually aided in loading up the instruments into the truck, and we didn’t make it to semi-state. How could anything make that better? I turned to face three smiling girls, all of which were from a different marching band. They held out a pair of glittery sapphire fairy wings.

“There are plain black chairs with stands, and also grey colored carpet on the ground. There’s over 200 vital white closed lockers in one room! Cases, binders, and books one of each in each of the 200 lockers. Each case has an instrument, mouthpiece, or reed. I can see Trumpets, French horns, Tubas, Trombones, Flutes, Bassoons, Clarinets, and Oboes,” I say quickly.

The familiar sound of the door opening made me bite my lip and grin. I breathed heavily, faking sleep. Seconds later my eyes were open and I saw strobe lights, a cow suit and a trumpet. Laughing, I got out of bed. My two Chamber “parents”, Rachel and Ben, were congratulating me, and my real mother and father were beaming. I got dressed in a splatter painted, fringed and musically themed shirt that they’d brought, grabbed my backpack and headed out the door, into Ben’s dirty green volvo. Half an hour later I was getting out of the car, and being welcomed by the other singers. Abby got out of a red van, looking as confused as I felt- I kept thinking soon I’d wake up and find out this was just a dream, and that I had failed. But it was extremely real, and everything I thought it’d be. Later today would be hard, some of my close friends hadn’t made it, and I’d sympathize with them. But hugging Abby, looking around at the other smiling faces, I knew that this moment I wouldn’t forget, this moment would be one of my very

“We’re on in five!”, barks the conductor. I look up, still chewing on a candy bar.“Hey, where’s the bass!” I run backstage, dodging stage crew and return with a black instrument without first tripping over scattered wires. “Alright, everyone: places!” As I reshuffle my sheet music, a few things catch my eye.

Finally, around 10, it was my quartet's turn to audition. I hauled open the heavy classroom door and walked in with a faked confidence, my heels clicking against the linoleum floor as the rest of my quartet followed behind me. The room was a refrigerator, more due to the judge’s cold stare underneath his combover than the air conditioning being on too high. Our pitches were plunked from a piano in the corner of the room and we began singing America the Beautiful. The rest of our excerpts followed. Somewhere halfway through, I began to enjoy myself and how our group sounded as we cascaded down heart wrenching scales in perfect intervals and held clashing notes we had worked so hard on making just exactly

Abruptly woken up by my mother’s loud knocks on the door, I stood up erect and began my systematic morning routine. Today was different, however. Today, I was to officially be a member of a selected few chosen to be a part of a choir, therefore forcing me to change schools and throwing off-balance my whole life.

Picking up the French Horn case, my hands pushed it hard into its locker. The books I had put in there already crumpled as the strong case slid over it. I sighed from the effort that it took for my arms to pick it up over my head and push it in; heart beating slightly faster. My tired hands clasped the caged locker doors, and pushed it not ajar. The case looked as if it was in jail, because of the similarities between the door and the cell door. Eyes darting around the locker, I made sure that I had my music folder and my music book. Gadsden folder, check, and Essential Elements, check, I thought to myself. As soon as I made sure it was all there, my feet led me out of the brass locker room.

I dreaded walking into Hartland Music that day. The moment I pushed against those double doors I knew I had made a mistake. But, truthfully, it wasn’t my decision to make, I mean, if I truly had a passion for it I could continue on my own. Still feeling down I greeted the employee at the desk and turned to the left and right making my way down the hallway. I sat down on a cushion near my instructor's room still gripping the envelope so roughly my knuckles turned white. And finally, a young man’s head pops out looking left and right most likely looking for me. He beckons me and holds the door still ushering me in. I planned out ahead of time

Grabbing the cold brass door handle, I could immediately feel a deep rumble move from my hand throughout my body. The vibrations reached my chest and it felt as though my soul was being tenderly caressed and massaged. I swung the door open and I was greeted with a blast of icy air and a wall of sound. To my surprise, the sound was quite sweet to the ears. The wonderful and enthusiastic voice of the singer, the haunting melody of the electric guitar, the thunderous booms of the bass guitar, the warm crisp strumming of the acoustic guitar, topped off with the sustained smooth undertone of the keyboard all complemented the others and blended together. The room was dimly lit with a warm special stage light left to illuminate the band with a bluish-white hue dancing behind on the wall. I was both astonished, proud, but sad at the same time.

Doug is my cousin’s fiance and the band teacher at a private catholic school. Slender in build, polite and talented, we hadn 't spent much time together prior to the upcoming week. But based off of past encounters, I sensed the two of us would easily get along. Before the first day began, Doug had given me a folder containing the show music. The brown cardboard folder, held about twenty pages of show music, with the titles: “Jurassic Park Fantasy”, “Indiana Jones”, and “Stars Wars/E.T”, a playlist meant to honor the famous composer: John Williams. But for the week, Doug noted, we would mainly focus on Jurassic Park. And as I scanned through the pages, it definitely seemed reachable. The rhythms had been simplified to accommodate a high school level and the note ranges also seemed easier. Now sitting in Doug’s office, awaiting the arrival of the children, I asked Doug, “What’s the plan for today? More importantly... when’s lunch?”. With a

I sat in my basement in front of 5 chairs, 6 music stands, and a piano. What if no one shows up? Like any other nervous musician, these thoughts constantly rushed through my head. The doorbell finally rang. One of the musicians showed up with a bass. We had to lug it into the basement, but we managed. I was a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth in the basement. There wasn’t much talking between us. Suddenly, more and more high school students came down with their instruments. My peers stared at me holding their instruments, expecting leadership. After I introduced myself, I was eager to start rehearsing the piece. I recall exactly how it felt the moment my baton reached the first downbeat. My heart may have matched the tempo of the piece. Suddenly the orchestra started to play and I smiled. It wasn’t perfect; It was only a first run-through. I knew I had work to do.

I walked into the band room and went to my locker. I grabbed my music, hoping to look it over one more time before my audition. What at one point was familiar music now seemed foreign. I sang the melody of the song in my head and tried to picture and hear what it would be played like. It was now 10:20, and my audition was to begin. I reached into my locker and pulled out the shiny brass trombone, one that I had used for two years now. I felt the familiar smooth metal, now difficult to grasp because of the sweat on my hands. I wiped my hands on my sweatshirt one last time and walked towards the practice room. The person before me was still playing, so I waited outside the door for what was probably 30 seconds, but seemed like 30

Suddenly, my brother and I danced in a calm home where a glimpse of a happy family without fighting, sheltered from the storm. The music shed away his anxieties, helped him to cope with just lyrics and melody. After what seemed like forever, my grandma strode into the room. She told me to go say bye to my mother, that she will be back soon. Blue and red lights flashed in our front yard while my mother’s silhouette approached.