Hey,
I applied to all of my schools months ago. I’ve noticed that lately theres been an increase in essay critique, so I guess i’ll give it a try:
I often reflect on my experiences drumming for Kingston12. During those three years of glory and grandeur, trials and tribulations, there was always a basic and underlying energy; metamorphoses. I observed this growth not only in our live performances, our interesting hairdos, and our lyrical subject matter, but in our backbones as well. By the time we were maxing out ticket sales at VFW halls across the suburbs, we officially, or at least in our own rockstar minds, became, well cool.
The band started out as an unsavory gumbo of awkward teenage emotions and ideals. Coming from four very different places, it was difficult to find an initial recipe to follow. There was Ryan, acerbic, the athlete-turned-Mick Jagger who never passed on an opportunity to broadcast the failing relationship he had with his sweetheart. At stage-right stood Justin, the spacey versifier with the wardrobe of Janis Joplin and the goofy drollness of ones little brother. Eric, the soft-spoken teenage physicist, treated the task of writing killer bass lines as he did solving natural logarithms, with ease. And finally, there was me, Brett, the ambitious musical veteran who wanted to put something together that would be colossal, extraordinary, and more respected than any project I had worked on since I began performing at age twelve.
Initially, practice appeared to be futile. In fact, Ive heard school fire drills sounding more melodic than those first few rehearsals. Progression? Try regression. We could have switched instruments midway and one probably would not have heard much of a difference. It seemed that perfect harmony was always but a note away
Fast-forward to July of 2003. At this point, with our voices deeper and the average members hair style at shoulder length, there was no stopping us. The past year had been one of excitement and changes. With weekly gigs, we were receiving the respect and attention we longed for. At the age of fifteen, our faces had already graced the front cover of local newspapers and online music publications, many who discussed our debut album with rave reviews. We had shared the stage with such national acts as MCA recording artist Something Corporate and Drive Thru Records Finch. We were now ready to work on our follow-up record, and so, with a little financial help from our parents (which was all paid back in CD sales, of course), and a lot of trial and error, we built our very own professional recording studio. For the next year, we spent virtually all of our free time locked up in Erics basement; writing, recording, arguing, crafting, perfecting.
Now, holding a copy of our sophomore release in my hands, I again reflect. From the early practices of dissonance and discord, to the small but significant triumphs further down the road. From the midday photo shoots to the midnight games of Marco-Polo in the pool. The pre-show laryngitis and the post-show autographs. The crowd. The rush. The quintessence of work and reward. Kingston12 was my band.