The first song of Standard and Not So Standard: The Ever Growing Repertoire had ended, and Jazz Band Director Eric Thomas promptly announced that Saturday could very well be "the saddest day that I've had in my life."

But why? The first selection had been executed masterfully, the band was in order. What on earth could be making Thomas so sad? "My seniors are leaving," he said dramatically. Seniors leave every year, but this year, they would be leaving his band practically personless. The group had hit what Thomas described as a "critical mass" and for what seemed like the first time since he began teaching at the College, he had had a full student band without having to hire any outside professionals. Thomas went on, saying that it was as if God had declared to the parents of '88, "You will have a child. They will play jazz. And they [will] go to Colby." Motioning for all the seniors to stand up he said, "And I'm losing all my 'Eric's.'" Overwhelmed by a playful yet sincere pang of emotion, he cried out, "Ah, I can't do this anymore! Let's play a piece about chickens. That'll make me feel better."

Poultry Guest was indeed a piece about chickens. An obvious play-on-words linked to "poltergeist," it wasn't so much a song about ghosts as it was a fun tune that that lent itself to the fun and ridiculous movements that we associate with the standard self-important chicken that clucks to and fro around the barnyard. Thomas invited the audience to "think about the way chickens move" as we listened to the piece.

Kathleen Fallon, one of the soon-to-be-leaving seniors, followed with an impressive performance as the vocalist for the band. She sang a jazzed up version of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance," Billy Strayhorn's "Lush Life" and "At Last," a song from the musical film Orchestra Wives. After the songs ended and Fallon rushed off the stage, Thomas made sure to point out that Fallon had indeed done the arrangements for both "Bad Romance" and "Lush Life," which involved two years of training, music theory and an intensive study of the works.

La Quema del Diablo or "Burning of the Devil" was also a notable piece in the evening's repertoire. Thomas explained that the title referred to a Dec. 7 celebration in which people gather to burn out all the "evil" spirits from their homes. In practice, it is a time for people to dispose of all the built-up clutter Thomas quipped that participants could also "have one or two drinks in moderation--over a several-hour period, of course." The piece itself was fast-paced and upbeat, reflecting feelings of festivity and the excitement that might surround the celebration.

One of the most notable pieces that evening was called Whodunnit, by Gordon Goodwin. Thomas introduced the song by saying, "The next piece is a mystery. On a cold and rainy night, he came to my door. Mr. Noir..." Since the piece incorporated multiple solos, it effectively showcased many players' skills. The casual, yet sharp notes on the electric guitar by Dan Reeves '10 in conjunction with the brassy notes coming from the muted trumpet added an element of eeriness to the tune. The trumpet and trombone sections seemed to work overtime to hit all the ambitious notes--yet they played their complicated parts admirably.

Finally, urged by a hearty encore from the audience, the band decided to play a jazz rendition of the theme song from the popular B-movie Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. Thomas insisted that this was a very "serious" piece, only to have that statement debunked by a trombone player (Stephanie Stoddard '10), who emerged from behind the curtains dressed in full costume as a big, bright, killer tomato. Thomas went on to explain how the protagonist, Mason Dixon, kills the kingpin tomato by showing him a copy of the score. As if this proved a very important point, he deadpanned, "See, music can save your lives."

A highly humorous and entertaining piece, the finale to Attack consisted of an enormous build-up to an anti-climax, in which the costumed trombone player tooted a few pathetic, self-important notes that were "squashed" by the squawk of a single trumpet. The audience laughed, realizing that this must have been the part where music killed the killer tomato.