I have my first wedding gig tomorrow, and I am marveling at the fact that I have not reduced myself to a heap of fear and inferiority. This is the kind of job that would, in the past, have had me laying my head down on the table and begging someone to get me out of it. I don't care who or how, just don't make me do it.
I had that reaction with my first pit orchestra gig. I actually shed tears when I decided I was in over my head, and I nearly made myself sick over it. It turned out OK in the end. Not great, but at least OK. I didn't feel like I needed to leave town afterwards. I have similar reactions to certain orchestra performances with prominent horn parts, and once when I played a Mozart concerto at a local art guild get together, I thought I would vomit.
But this time, I'm not so nervous. I am playing with a brass quintet made up of top-notch musicians, and so I count myself as the weak link. But I don't count myself as the town fool or musical boob. I think I can do this. I think I'll have fun. And I think I'll be able to walk out of the church after the ceremony and pull my shoulders back, grin, and pat myself on the back.
I recently finished reading Peter Pan, and throughout the story there is a sympathetic Lost Boy named Tootles. He's shy and silly and does not typically raise his sword with courage. But in one circumstance, in one situation where his strength and sense of right were in dire need, he stood up and was brave. The line reads, "and for that instant, his sun was at noon." His sun was at noon. The picture this inspires is so powerful, I will claim it for my own.
Tomorrow at the wedding when I sit down in my chair among the other musicians, ready to play my part and not miscount and not be afraid of the higher notes, my sun will be at noon. Hopefully I'll remember that feeling of success the next time I face a scary gig.
I had that reaction with my first pit orchestra gig. I actually shed tears when I decided I was in over my head, and I nearly made myself sick over it. It turned out OK in the end. Not great, but at least OK. I didn't feel like I needed to leave town afterwards. I have similar reactions to certain orchestra performances with prominent horn parts, and once when I played a Mozart concerto at a local art guild get together, I thought I would vomit.
But this time, I'm not so nervous. I am playing with a brass quintet made up of top-notch musicians, and so I count myself as the weak link. But I don't count myself as the town fool or musical boob. I think I can do this. I think I'll have fun. And I think I'll be able to walk out of the church after the ceremony and pull my shoulders back, grin, and pat myself on the back.
I recently finished reading Peter Pan, and throughout the story there is a sympathetic Lost Boy named Tootles. He's shy and silly and does not typically raise his sword with courage. But in one circumstance, in one situation where his strength and sense of right were in dire need, he stood up and was brave. The line reads, "and for that instant, his sun was at noon." His sun was at noon. The picture this inspires is so powerful, I will claim it for my own.
Tomorrow at the wedding when I sit down in my chair among the other musicians, ready to play my part and not miscount and not be afraid of the higher notes, my sun will be at noon. Hopefully I'll remember that feeling of success the next time I face a scary gig.
Comments
I notice that you self-effacingly omitted to mention that you were specifically asked - chosen - to join this quintet of top-notch musicians. The reason being that you are yourself a top-notch musician.
I'll look up at the sun at noon tomorrow and think of you. Enjoy your gig.
Break a leg!
I would wish you luck, but you won't even need it, that's how good you are!
And you will be great.