My mother, upon reading my previous post: “I certainly don’t ever want to get on your bad side.”
Got a job subbing at a well-respected and able orchestra that you really just never want to repeat? Here are some tips to help you avoid having to play with them again.
- Always know that you are the soloist. Never mind that guy up front; you were invited to be here. Treat the stage like you own it, because, well – you do. You are the guest star that everybody is watching, or at least should be. Let them know who’s the real deal. So kick back, relax, and enjoy yourself. Stretch out on your chair and open your suit jacket a little more. This is where you belong and everyone around you should know it.
- Even if there’s another soloist in the program – he’s nothing next to you. His name might be in the program, and he might have gotten a bouquet, but that’s just pomp. You’re the real business. Don’t worry about having to listen to his encores; hes just a mediocre player who likes to feed his ego. Feel free to make a show of cleaning out your instrument, or polishing it, or talking to the person next to you who’s listening to the music. She doesn’t know where her attention really should be.
- Don’t feel the need to follow everyone else. How else are you going to get noticed? Go ahead – play louder than them, play longer articulation than them, and keep your stand really low to make sure everyone can see you more than everyone else as they should. The audience will notice and you’ll live on in the people’s memory, just like you would want.
- The conductor is overrated. Really, how much do you even need to watch him or her? Certainly not when you’re not playing; feel free to just watch the bassists and violas or people around you play. There’s no reason to look at the conductor when you’re resting, but if you’re attracted to whichever sex s/he happens to be, then by all means ogle him/her like s/he is a piece of meat on parade. It’s perfectly acceptable, especially in a concert situation.
Above all, just know that you are the business that is everyone’s business. You are high above their level, and you know it. You don’t want to be stuck with them, no matter how you play – so let them know exactly how much you don’t care about how they sound. You’re a substitute, and you certainly don’t want to hang around here another time.
The senior recital has been conquered.
That went … really fast.
I have one week left at Juilliard – commencement and the final orchestral concerts are next Saturday. Um, talk about time flying. It feels like September only just passed.
Granted, this happens to me every year, but still. It hits home every time.
For those of you who weren’t there (the roughly 6,999,999,950 other humans on this planet), I thought it went well. From what we assume was the reed, my embouchure didn’t have the endurance I could have hoped for, but that aside I had nothing to complain about. I was certainly prepared (thank you, Mr. D!) and I … am just really, really, really glad that it’s over, in a way. I can actually focus on skills now when I practice, rather than incorporating skills into a piece that I’m trying to get as close to perfect as I can.
I’m not gonna lie though, today was long. I had a rehearsal at Paul Hall from 8:30 to 9:00 AM as a sort of miniature dress rehearsal, followed by my recital, then a chamber concert with my quintet, then orchestra rehearsal until 5 PM (though I got off at four and went to see a friend’s recital), and then an oboe sectional that was requested by PCO’s conductor because I missed all of the Copland rehearsal because of the chamber concert. And, finally, at 6 PM I got to see another bassoon recital — two in one day!
I think I’ve finally seen as many bassoon recitals as I have tuba recitals.
I guess that kind of goes to show what I consider worthwhile to see.
Going back to my long, long day, I managed to make my day feel even longer by forgetting to keep my chamber part for the chamber marathon concert – I’d sent all of my music home with my mother. So, long story short, I had a thrilling dash in a dress and heels up from the street level (effectively the basement) to the fifth floor, where I had to explain to the librarian far too many times that yes I would return the music today and that I would appreciate all speed on his part since I have a concert that I’m playing in that could start any minute now.
For those of you wondering, I got back to the hall with at least fifteen minutes to spare, and I returned the parts immediately following the performance.
And, miraculously, I’m not dead yet.
I know, I know. I haven’t posted here in an age and a half. I’ll make the necessary excuses though; it’s the middle of AP season (four down, one to go) and my senior recital is in four days and graduation (from Pre-College, anyway) is the week after that.
After that, senioritis can kick in full speed (not like it hasn’t already, really) and then I’ll have lots of time on my hands as I do no work to post on here.
Plus, hopefully by then I’ll have something to post about.
In the meantime, however, go outside and enjoy the nice weather. It’s spring and we may as well enjoy it.
I always notice that my readership spikes whenever I damage myself.
At least these past posts weren’t accompanied by a number of ‘likes’ from various bloggers. (I mean, I try to be funny, but … still.) I can’t really say I’d ever take a ‘like’ on a post like that personally, though; I have far too black and morbid a sense of humor to ever do that. I suppose it’s good that I do: so far, I’ve been moving through 2013 with one injury after another. Thus far, it’s been tendinitis coming through the New Year into January, closely followed by my ruptured eardrum, a fortunately uneventful audition season wrapped up by this ankle. (No pun intended with the wrapping, though I’ve currently got ace bandages galore on it.)
I swear, someone up there is trying to smite me or something. At this rate I just hope I’ll live to see 2014.
I’m not liking this ‘crutches’ thing, though. My left calf muscles are sore now, my arms, and most of all my hands and my underarms are sore as well. I think crutches are made so that as whatever part of your leg you damaged heals, the rest of your body is sacrificed. Not to mention that aside from the occasional intense cardio bursts of exertion that moving on crutches requires, I’m so limited and inactive – I’m going to go insane.
Less than a week after I start becoming serious about getting in shape … of course. Don’t get me wrong, however: I’m still laughing at myself through all this.