04. April 2007 · Comments Off · Categories: imported, Ramble

You know how it goes …

You have a big solo. When you first read that you’ll be doing the piece you are actually excited. I mean … who wouldn’t be with Ravel’s Piano Concerto? You know you have plenty of time to work on reeds and do the practicing necessary. You are just happy to play such a great work. (And thankful you aren’t playing principal oboe, with that insane octave thing going on in the first movement, on that one!)

Then time suddenly does something weird—it sort of bends on you and you lose a lot of months somehow—and you realize you didn’t really make reeds, and you’ve not practiced like you planned.

But that’s okay. You know the work, and you are going to be fine.

Then the day of the rehearsal you suddenly think, “Maybe I can’t play this any more!” So you practice but you think, “Don’t do too much, you might ruin the reed!” and then you waste time on lots of nothing but can’t ge the solo out of your head. After that you feel guilty and think, “I should have practiced more today.”

But the first rehearsal seems go go okay, although you aren’t entirely sure. (Fortunately a dear friend reassures you and you even decide to believe her.)

The second, and final, rehearsal goes very well.

Uh-oh. You know what happens then, right? You think, “Well, that’s that. I’ll not play as well tonight and that’ll be a sad thing.”

And then you think, “I just want to go home and curl up with a good book or something. If I play they’ll all finally hear the truth and know I’ve been faking it all these years.”

And suddenly the solo gets so much bigger in your mind than it really is.

But still there’s the other part of you that wants to play it, and wants to play it very, very well. Because, really, you have to admit you’re a bit of a show off. In that ever-so-humble sort of way.

Heh … you know all that, right?

Oh. Wait. That’s probably just my sick mind! So take out the “you” and put in “poor sick Patty” and you’ll have it right.

Anyway, I did play the Ravel tonight. And I truly did enjoy it. And I believe I played well (which is difficult for me to write and admit … and of course I fear someone who went will email and say, “No, you didn’t do well!”) although there were two moments I thought could have been … I dunno … more special? But still, it went well. I feel good. Darn good, actually.

So what happens? NOW I’m in that, “Oh rats! I wish I could do it again. That was fun!” Good old “postperformance hangover” is here.

Yeah. You just can win with me. ;-)
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