First you hear the drums. Then the brass. A good solid, marching tune.
I can’t help it. A marching band is the highlight of a parade in my mind. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing. Or even genetic. I’m aware of one great grandfather who played the baritone in the town band. (I’m not sure if they marched. They had uniforms.)
Left foot first. Stay in step. Even steps. Trombones in the front row. (If you’ve ever sat in front of them in a concert band you understand why.) Keep the row straight on a wheel turn. Eyes front.
This fine group of military musicians and guards never miss a step. They are known for their hats. But I like the bright red tunics even better.