In the off-season, football stadiums nationwide are still full of the competitive spirit they’re known for. During this time, young musicians travel across the country to perform as part of a drum corps.
Young adults pull into the stadiums by the bus load. One by one, they stream out with uniforms in hand, protected in plastic sleeves. Horns and drums are pulled from their cases, and keyboards and marimbas are rolled off the truck. As soon as they put on their caps, the musicians go into performance mode.
Under the stadium lights, high school and college students march onto the field in-step, pointing their horns directly at the judges box. The drum major climbs up his podium, turns around, salutes to the crowd, and turns back around, ready to conduct the band. Soon enough, the announcer comes on the speakers to say “Drum Corps International is proud to present…”
These performance groups are known as drum and bugle corps, and every year the biggest competitions held for these bands are presented by Drum Corps International (DCI), a nonprofit organization. DCI’s competition visits nearly every major football stadium, taking the performers on a national tour.
But this dignified exterior cannot disguise DCI’s less than glamorous underbelly. Each summer, thousands of young adults tour to perform in the competition, with over 35 groups performing at the world class level as of 2019. They sign on with hopes of taking their talents to new heights and becoming part of the elite. But many say, amid the grueling rehearsal schedule, DCI continues to struggle in protecting its membership.
Behind the pageantry and theatrics, the organization perpetuates some major flaws in its operations. Namely, how much it charges its body of artists. “It’s not for everyone,” said Aaron Talabucon, Former DCI World Champion.
Talabucon marched two seasons with the Blue Devils and Bugle Corps, performing in “Dreams And Nighthawks” and “Ghostlight”, winning a gold medal in the process. But even the champions can’t escape the financial struggle. “I remember working at Fry’s Electronics and really hustling. I was a commission-based employee, so I was working really hard just to pay fees.”
According to Talabucon, if a musician wants to march with the defending world champions, they have to be dedicated to becoming one of the nation’s most talented musicians. After paying over $150 in audition fees, the selection process begins. The aspiring performers attend multiple audition camps, some driving in from different states, and some even flying in from different countries. From there, they face the fierce competition and hope for the callback.
If they earn a contract offer, they get to march with one of the most decorated marching groups in existence … for the price of $3,500. It’s relatively low among other DCI groups, but a hefty sum considering those who participate are all under the age of 22, abiding by DCI’s “age-out” rule. And the fee only represents initial costs: The performer is still responsible for feeding themselves on free days, as well as paying for any extra amenities they may need while on tour the entire summer. Scholarships and sponsorships are available but rare, which means if you can’t pay out of pocket, you can’t march.
After performers exceed the age limit, many of them decide to pay it forward to the program by entering into teaching positions. Talabucon is among that group, and he now works for the high school where his marching career began: Camarillo High. Through his work, Talabucon gets to educate the next generation of DCI’s performers like Kolby Mitchell, a senior at Cam High. Mitchell is in the process of auditioning for Blue Coats, another DCI championship contender, and to him, the price is only a hurdle before achieving his dream. “This year, I feel ready. I feel prepared,” he said. “I want to do DCI, and I want to go all out with the team I’ve always wanted to march with.”
DCI is only the first chapter in what Mitchell hopes will be a long music career, but marching with the Blue Coats would be the initial step in that direction. “I want to study music composition and keep doing DCI in the summers and see how far I can take it,” he said. “As of right now, music is definitely the life plan.” Mitchell sees the tour fees as an investment for his future. “If I do wind up wanting to go into teaching or writing, that DCI experience will be huge,” he said.
Many of the teaching positions come in the form of internships and volunteering. Some roles are paid, like Talabucons. But in recent years, many have called the hiring tactics exploitative. “Historically, people have treated it as a side gig or resume-builder, and as such, they’re not afforded the same protections that they should have,” said Cameron Guerrero, Tour Manager for Blue Devils, Band Director at Cam High, and member of MAASIN. MAASIN stands for Marching Arts Access, Safety and Inclusion Network, and they’re dedicated to fostering a safe environment among the marching arts. “DCI, I don’t think, is doing anything as an organization,” he said. “The activity is changing, for sure, but I think the member corps are driving that change.”
On top of issues with employment, DCI has a long history of sexual assault allegations, which seem to be ubiquotus across a handful of its groups. Staff members have exhibited predatory behavior with young musicians, and while many abusers have been exposed, some are still employed. As of 2018, there were 24 world-class drum corps, and over 50% hired one or more educators who had been disciplined for misconduct with a student, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer.
Guerrero believes that DCI is caught in this toxic cycle because it’s underprepared to thoroughly rehabilitate the organization. “One of the first questions we approached them with was ‘why the fuck can all these abusers hop from drum corps to drum corps?’ and realistically the answer is they don’t have enough resources to keep track,” he said. Yet, DCI has refused MAASIN’s advice. “We’ve sent numerous emails and they don’t respond,” he said.
But much like ballet, gymnastics, and other flawed pageantry arts programs, Guerrero thinks DCI will hold off on addressing significant issues until member outrage is too overwhelming for them to handle. “Just like at a company, they’re not going to change until all of their employees are forcing them to,” he said. “And I don’t think it’s because they don’t see a need for change: They’re just unwilling to make those tough decisions.”
But for DCI, the hope of a better tomorrow is still strong. Despite its flaws, many in the community, like Talabucon, continue to have faith in preserving the art of Drum Corps, as well as its ability to change lives. “Without DCI even [high school marchers] wouldn’t be having the experience they’re having. And these kids are great. It’s awesome to see them grow, want to get better and develop into great human beings. That’s the whole purpose of it.”