I'm with Ian on this one, once in a blue moon is enough for me, I love playing with other people but hate feeling like the weak link! Plus the nerves beforehand make me wonder why I do it to myself. Great feeling after wards though
All the best,
Chris
Yes indeedy, how I know that feeling.
Training band starts a new season with the distribution of many new pieces. The conductor taps his baton to call the runners and riders to order, and they're off at a hell of a lick.
You fall at the first bar line.
As the field disappears into the distance you pull yourself together and try to catch up. The dots shake in front of your eyes but finally you recognise where they are.
But by the time your brain realises its found the place 'they' have galloped on. you resign myself to waiting for the 'slow' passage and with a sinking heart notice that the rest of the sax section appears to be sight reading note perfect at the speed of light.
Nerves set in. The slow passage is simple minims and quavers in an easy key, and finally you stand out - as the person playing the wrong notes!
We reach the end of the piece and the youngster in the row in front (clarinets) turns round with an expression that clearly says 'who let the idiot making the mistakes in'. And then its a quick romp through the next piece 'just to get the feel', then the next, until the end of the session.
A few weeks practice helps , but only a little, so on to a lesson with grizzled old teacher who's seen it all before. A few well chosen bits of advice, 'do it at your pace for the moment' and suddenly it all appears easier.
Until the next training band. 'Your speed' is all very well but nobody told the others. The conductor appears to be waving his baton like a demented wasp on speed. Your brain goes numb, your fingers tie themselves in knots, and the wasp stings your very soul.
Suddenly a crumb of comfort. You are not alone, a follow old codger on trombone is also having difficulties. And, horror of horrors, is asked to play it solo - so the whole band can analyse his failings you think - but really in order for the conductor to help him.
With the fear of similar public humiliation hanging over you, you return home determined to achieve. The wife's 'how did band go dear' not quite as supportive as its intended to be.
Weeks of practice (and grumbles that 'I never see you because of that damn saxophone') later you feel there is just a chance you can to it. Which is just as well because its the last rehearsal before the performance. Joy of joys it goes well with only a few minor wobbles, it will be all right on the night.
Its the day. the band is crammed into a small room all trying to prop up their music somewhere for a last blow through. The conductor is tipsy and playfully putting his hands in front of your music - thereby proving conclusively that you do not know it well enough to play from memory. Leaving you nerves a tatrter and no longer able to play with the dots in front of you. He moves on to try this jolly educational jape on fellow band members.
You walk out under the lights, sit down, drop your music, and try to relax while desperately shuffling it back in order.
And they're off again. You keep up, mostly. You play the right notes, mostly. Often in the right order. And its over in a trice. What fun, that was great, you can't wait to do it again.
Long-suffering supportive wife assures you that she heard none of your mistakes, in fact the flutes (trumpets, clarinets, ...whatever) were noticably worse than the sax section.
Del signo 'start new season', ad infinitum - no coda.
(bottom of page)
