The lights dim, the Netflix logo brightens, and suddenly the screen fills with a crescendo of trumpets and drums. The new documentary—“The Goin’ Band: Best in the World”—exposes viewers to the soul and spectacle behind Texas Tech University’s beloved marching ensemble. For Netflix to spotlight the Goin’ Band from Raiderland is nothing less than an electrifying tribute: a full‑blown, cinematic love letter to a group that has carried West Texas pride on cushioned shoulders since 1925.
From the earliest frames, the film anchors you in the dusty Texas plains. Sweeping drone shots glide over Lubbock’s Crimson Square, revealing the Goin’ Band’s traditional Spanish‑matador uniforms—complete with flat-brimmed gaucho hats and flowing capes—meant to echo the university’s Spanish Renaissance architecture. Their uniforms, unchanged in spirit for nearly a century, are testament to a legacy of elegance and pageantry.
Netflix doesn’t just show performances; it pioneers storytelling. We meet Dr. Joel Pagán, the current director, whose passion drips from every syllable—“We aim to give the world the best band in the land.” We follow freshmen with nervous smiles during “Band Camp,” their eyes gleaming at the sight of seasoned drum majors sculpting the first high‑energy formation. We hear from alumni who reminisce about touring the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, the camaraderie forged on grey‑hound buses, and the fanfare echoing through New York City’s crisp November air.
Interwoven are flashbacks: sepia‑toned footage of the very first Tech band performing on October 3, 1925, directed by W. Waghorne; Harry LeMaire’s leadership ushering in radio‑broadcasted halftime shows in the 1920s; the dramatic uniform debut in 1982, when they were deemed “Best Dressed” by New York fashion judges. Each era is painted with vivid interviews—archival audio crackling, band alumni recalling telegrams of praise during the 1966 Gator Bowl, teenage trumpeters quivering at their first stadium performance.
The filmmaking is cinematic. Close‑ups catch sweat dripping from percussionists during a mid‑summer marching drill. Slow‑motion sweeps reveal dozens of horn‑players stepping in flawless unison, skirts twirling, shoes pounding hot asphalt like thunder. A soaring string score underscores personal stories: a first‑generation college student balancing engineering classes and saxophone practice; a senior facing graduation, his final performance buoyed by camera‑tracked emotion.
Netflix rounds out the narrative with one grand crescendo: the climactic stadium showcase. Under dazzling stadium lights, the full 418‑member ensemble breaks into “Ride, Raider, Ride,” the fight‑song crescendo igniting the crowd—red pom-poms twirling, cellphones held aloft. The energy is seismic; even the camera shivers with it.
As the credits roll, Netflix leaves us with a final shot: the entire Goin’ Band raising their binoculars to the sky, a unified formation spelling out “TTU” against a crimson dusk. A voice‑over: “This isn’t just a band. It’s a heartbeat—Texas‑sized, global‑sized, Raider‑sized.”
This documentary isn’t filler. It’s a bombshell: a rousing celebration of loyalty, discipline, culture, and legacy. Netflix has done more than chronicle a marching band—they’ve immortalized a living emblem of Texas Tech’s spirit. The Goin’ Band isn’t just in Raiderland—it’s in the world’s hearts, and Netflix has made sure we’ll never forget it.
