I'm not talking about listening to people talk about cars, I'm talking about orchestra rehearsal.
I had a rehearsal last night for our upcoming concert featuring American cities--New York, New York; Gary, Indiana (from the Music Man, written before Gary turned to trash); St. Louis Blues; I Left My Heart in San Francisco; and Bernstein's Three Dances from On the Town. I sat down and greeted all my fellow horn players and was excited to play Rhapsody. It's a feature, so I knew we'd rehearse it first. I was right.
Twenty five minutes later, we moved on the Bernstein dances, but since there is no third horn part for that stuff, I sat quietly, kind of, and waited for the next piece. I watched the sunset through the doors of the band room. I chatted quietly with the fourth horn player who was without a part, too. I doubled up on the 2nd part when she was running through something easy to sight-read. I jotted down the inspirational quotes that were plastered all over the walls. Here are some of them:
Stop Whining (this command is posted twice)
Music is supposed to wash away the dust of everyday life.--Art Blakey
Music is an emotional science.--George Gershwin
What we play is life.--Louis Armstrong
You can't use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.--Maya Angelou
I like this Angelou quote the best because it keeps me going when I think I have used up my creative juices. My friend who is in charge of this band room often quotes this sign and says she thinks of me when she reads it.
So, after an hour and 20 minutes or so of diversionary tactics--all of the above plus watching some of the better musicians like the trombone player who has removed the varnish from his bell and plays like a dream and the clarinet player who keeps a saxophone in his lap and switches back and forth without missing a single beat--the rehearsal conductor announced that we were finished. I'm sorry? What? We're finished you say? I have sat here drooling down the front of my shirt as my brain rots inside my skull, waiting to play the schmaltzy arrangement of I Left My Heart In San Francisco, and you say we're finished?
A flute player who was sitting in a pool of spit as well pointed out that there were some of us sitting through this dance thing for nothing. The conductor hadn't notice. He hadn't notice the flies that were gathering around those of us without parts to play or the spider web that had been spun from the top our music stands down to the tiled floor, and he was very sorry. Mea culpa, he said. Off you go.
Well, if nothing else, I got to focus on the inspirational messages, and I got to watch the sunset. I also noticed a slight bruise on the front of my right shin bone just right of the two moles I discovered. If I had stared at them any longer, I would have convinced myself of a melanoma.
Mea culpa my rear end.
I had a rehearsal last night for our upcoming concert featuring American cities--New York, New York; Gary, Indiana (from the Music Man, written before Gary turned to trash); St. Louis Blues; I Left My Heart in San Francisco; and Bernstein's Three Dances from On the Town. I sat down and greeted all my fellow horn players and was excited to play Rhapsody. It's a feature, so I knew we'd rehearse it first. I was right.
Twenty five minutes later, we moved on the Bernstein dances, but since there is no third horn part for that stuff, I sat quietly, kind of, and waited for the next piece. I watched the sunset through the doors of the band room. I chatted quietly with the fourth horn player who was without a part, too. I doubled up on the 2nd part when she was running through something easy to sight-read. I jotted down the inspirational quotes that were plastered all over the walls. Here are some of them:
Stop Whining (this command is posted twice)
Music is supposed to wash away the dust of everyday life.--Art Blakey
Music is an emotional science.--George Gershwin
What we play is life.--Louis Armstrong
You can't use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.--Maya Angelou
I like this Angelou quote the best because it keeps me going when I think I have used up my creative juices. My friend who is in charge of this band room often quotes this sign and says she thinks of me when she reads it.
So, after an hour and 20 minutes or so of diversionary tactics--all of the above plus watching some of the better musicians like the trombone player who has removed the varnish from his bell and plays like a dream and the clarinet player who keeps a saxophone in his lap and switches back and forth without missing a single beat--the rehearsal conductor announced that we were finished. I'm sorry? What? We're finished you say? I have sat here drooling down the front of my shirt as my brain rots inside my skull, waiting to play the schmaltzy arrangement of I Left My Heart In San Francisco, and you say we're finished?
A flute player who was sitting in a pool of spit as well pointed out that there were some of us sitting through this dance thing for nothing. The conductor hadn't notice. He hadn't notice the flies that were gathering around those of us without parts to play or the spider web that had been spun from the top our music stands down to the tiled floor, and he was very sorry. Mea culpa, he said. Off you go.
Well, if nothing else, I got to focus on the inspirational messages, and I got to watch the sunset. I also noticed a slight bruise on the front of my right shin bone just right of the two moles I discovered. If I had stared at them any longer, I would have convinced myself of a melanoma.
Mea culpa my rear end.
Comments
And Maya Angelou … Spooky, Robyn; I was flicking through "I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings" last night, trying to find a quote.
And shame on your conductor for depriving you of schmaltz! Hee hee.
Mea culpa your rear end indeed.
Yes the devil makes work of idle hands - the innocent moles i'm talking about. A few spare seconds and you find something horrid to think about. Just like me Robyn. There must be a way to turn this around.