peanut85

Of all the bitching and moaning I've been doing over the last couple weeks about this whole hell-month-and-a-half, it all came to fruition last night. The whole reason for my crazy schedule, the 3rd symphony, in which I was playing as a sub for a friend, had their first of two concerts last night.

The music wasn't all that challenging, it was a Chinese Spring Festival concert, so we had a guest Chinese Youth Orchestra playing traditional Chinese instruments, a massive Chinese Children's Choir, and several soloists playing even more traditional Chinese instruments. The music was, well, mind blowing. It was actually kind of neat, standing backstage as the Chinese Youth Orchestra was playing, waiting for our turn to take the stage. I was, as normal, standing way in the back with my trombone and tuba playing friends, just taking in the wonderfully foreign sounds billowing from the inside of the shell. And as I looked around backstage, I noticed something a bit unusual.

These musicians, some of the brightest, most talented, most knowledgeable amateur musicians in the Bay Area were, like me, mesmerized by the sounds filtering through the cracks of the shell. They were swarming around these cracks, trying to catch a glimpse of the magic, the wildly intense, the unfamiliar timbres that filled our ears. I couldn't tell you if it was technically good or not, although I assume it was. I couldn't tell you the names of the instruments they played. Nor the name of the pieces they played. (That's why I grabbed a program) But I can tell you it was an utterly soul searching, eye opening experience for me personally.

You almost have to experience it for yourself, since it's not something I can really describe on paper. (Or electricity, apparently)



Now we come to the second segment of the concert. And by second segment, I mean the closer for the first half. And be second segment, I mean a piece that is almost out of place amongst the festival set. This would be Igor Stravinsky's Firebird. Holy crap man, I love this piece. Extraordinarily challenging. There are a couple phrases in it, at least for myself, that I could classify as some of the hardest licks I have come across as a musician.

One lick in particular. I won't go into semantics, but let's just say it's not only harsh, but my brain told me it was even harsher, leading me to almost fear it in rehearsal. Come to the concert. First off, for me, everything in concert is different. The nerves, the nausea, shaky hands and fingers, as well as the lights, audience, and even those damn constricting clothes, and my hair up in a pony tail. We always say everything is the same, but deep down we know it's all different. And that is what we prepare for.

Well, fast forward to these two little solo licks. The first one goes off just fine. The second, almost perfect, just a bit of a drop-off in sound and pitch towards the end. But, the impact and presence was there, so I say it was a success.

Finally, it's done. I look down, and my fingers are shaking out of control. They feel like if I don't make a fist, they could vibrate right off my hands. And I don't want that, I like my fingers. The nausea isn't controlling, but it is present. Hell, even my breathing is trembling and wobbly. And then I notice something new. Something different.

Joy. Absolute delight. There is a huge smile stretching across my face, practically ear to ear. And I realize, this is what I live for. I absolutely LOVE this feeling. The shaking hands and fingers. The uncontrollable breathing. The slight feeling of nausea. It's like that first conversation with that perfect somebody. You know, the conversation that nothing, not even a streaking locomotive, could derail you from. The kind of conversation where later, laying in bed, you find you can't sleep, for you can't get every little detail to stop running through your noodle over and over again.

Such a great feeling. And I get it one more time tonight.

Bring it on!


-E