Today was
another travel day, as we left Germany and made our way to the Netherlands.
Being on
a tour like this can be challenging. Rehearsals often happen on very
little sleep (we had one right after our red-eye flight from Canada to Venice),
after long days of travel (more than once we’ve had to come off a 6 hour bus
ride and go straight into a rehearsal), or when you’d rather be eating,
resting, or exploring the new country or city you’ve just arrived in.
Not only
that, but you have to be alert and focused and ready for every detail, every
subtle or not-so-subtle change that needs to be made in order to adapt to a new
church, a new acoustic.
And yet
the reason we’re on this tour in the first place is the music, and the music
must always come first. There’s a reason we all decided to do this in the
first place, and that’s for the love of this music. So day after day,
sometimes minute by minute, we have to remind ourselves of that, renew that passion
and energy and jump into a concert with the same love and commitment each time.
It can be
very hard.
When I
first started training in classical singing, I was a bit all over the
place. I never seemed to be able to be on time to lessons, to learn my
music quick enough, to have the right photocopies of the right pieces at the
right times. I would misread things, misplace music, and just generally
be in a state of confusion and unpreparedness.... and then there was the time I
sang a concert without any shoes at all as I’d forgotten them at home...
There
were of course many “reasons” this – I was struggling to figure out how to live
on my own with little financial or emotional help or support; I was dealing
with various illnesses and disabilities that I was in various states of
recovery from, trying to balance several jobs and always taking way more than a
full course load, and a lot of other “invisible” factors that meant my life was
in a constant state of chaos. But reasons are not excuses, as I was soon
to learn.
Choir was
my haven. Choir rehearsals in university were where I learned to force
myself to focus intently, to clear my mind of all distractions, to take
responsibility for my own music making. Mistakes were not acceptable,
being distracted was not acceptable, and not being organized or prepared was
not acceptable. I learned that when I was making music, the music was the
only thing that mattered.
Rehearsals
quickly became my meditation, my exercise, my grounding place, and the place I
grew out of my scattered tendencies.
I’ve
developed a lot of very fine tuned focusing and listening skills over the
years, and more often than not I can come to a rehearsal regardless of my
physical or emotional state, put everything aside, and just go. But occasionally,
the challenges of life, especially on a tour like this, somehow all combine at
once and I go through a rehearsal unfocused, distracted, make stupid mistakes,
and struggle to adapt to the changes that are needed.
When that
happens, I get very frustrated with myself. But frustration is unproductive and
only feeds on itself, un-focusing me even more.
***
A couple
of years ago, I made a very big mistake during an actual performance. To
this day I don’t really have an explanation for it – my mind just stopped
working for a spit second and I forgot to come in. During a solo.
It was part of a larger piece with a quartet of soloists and choir, and of
course my mistake not only affected me, but had a domino effect, and everyone
else derailed in panic as well, not knowing how to get back out of the
disaster. Eventually we did, but we were all frazzled and it wasn’t an
enjoyable performance. I don’t really like remembering this at all, and
the only reason I write about it now is because I learned something very
important from that mistake.
 |
| Reherasing in Marienkirche,
Lübeck, Germany
|
The next
day, even though we were in Europe and everyone else was out exploring yet
another new city, I stayed in my hotel room and I sang. It was the only
thing that calmed my anxiety and the awful feeling I had at making such a huge
mistake. I sang all of my music, going over and over everything, every
detail, every entrance, every note. If I stopped singing the anxiety came
back, so I didn’t stop. I sang, and I talked myself through it, because I
still had to do this solo again for not only one but two more major
concerts. I knew fear would be the end of my ability to do it properly,
so I sang and meditated and immersed myself in the joy of the music. I
immersed myself in the details, in the breathing, in the rhythm. I knew
that was the only thing that would save me from my anxiety.
By the
end of the evening I felt ready. I had come out the other side, and my
next two concerts went flawlessly – I didn’t hesitate, I wasn’t afraid, and I
gave myself into pure focus and joy.
***
It was a
very hard thing I had to do, but it was good that I learned how to do
it... so now when I get frustrated with myself after a rehearsal where I
was all over the place, I go back to my music, I sing and I lose myself in
intense focus and I ground myself again this way.
Mistakes
are always going to happen. But for me, it’s the ability to trust myself
and keep going that makes the difference between a complete derailment or just
a tiny little moment.
I’m not perfect, and not everything we sing is always perfect. But
I do know what perfection in music can do, and that’s the only standard I ever want
to try and meet.
No comments:
Post a Comment