NO doubt spurred on by this year’s national competition successes, the band was on top and also conspicuously ambitious form as it breezed through this festive concert.

The players started as they meant to go on, guided with customary care and precision by musical director John Swindells.

Festival March was a demanding piece to kick off the proceedings and the ensuing success was soon consolidated by Music of the Night, shafts of brilliance coming by way of Richard Perkins’s evocative euphonium work.

Compere Philip Prince was his usual ebullient self, but even he couldn’t adequately describe the rare talent of baritone Paul Mocroft, who we were told had been awarded the gig at the last moment.

His The Infant King was richer than the chocolate brazils that later formed one of the raffle prizes. Mocroft would return in the second half, winning total audience participation with the perennially enjoyable The Hippopotamus.

However, the theme of the concert seemed to be about constantly pushing boundaries, and the ultimate experiment in this department was most certainly Bohemian Rhapsody.

This was simply breathtaking, and if Freddie Mercury was looking down from wherever he is now, then he must have been not only well-pleased but also perhaps a little amused that his great opus should have been performed by a brass band.

Of course, seasonal fare was in great abundance and the band effortlessly cruised through plenty of tunes with Christmas in the title, the best probably being The Christmas Song, a piece performed with such conviction that you could almost smell the chestnuts roasting away on that old log fire.

So, all that’s left to say is… roll on next year’s show.