You'll never guess what happened a few weeks ago. An exciting, amazing, nerve-wracking experience that happens about five times a year.
IT WAS CONCERT WEEK.
Now, let me explain to you what that means. Since I am in two school-related bands, it means two concerts. Not the typical one-performance-and-then-we're-done concert, but two concerts with multiple compositions per band. There was three bands performing at each concert, and I had to sit through two performances both nights. One concert was for classical music, and the other was for jazz.
First up, classical. We worked really hard to pull this concert off. Or at least I did. The Symphonic Band would be second on stage, after the junior high band. We played pieces called
Abracadabra, Dance of the Trolls, and
Earthdance. We did not play as well as the rehearsals went, which is typical because of nerves and people and things. The band really only played
Earthdance four or five times in rehearsal which was weird because after the piece was played, the director mouthed the word "awesome" which means we apparently, to his point of view, played it sort of well.
A few nights after the concert, there was Pep Band. The Pep Band was the last of the season, but it was still a good one. We played along with the director's hand signals and had a great time. Our school played against another football team we hadn't beaten for a while. Of course, we still lost to them, horribly, but it was fun to be up in the stands with my friends again. We pretty much stuffed Swedish Fish in our mouths and played our horns at the same time for majority of the game, which was an absolute blast.
The second concert was the jazz concert. It was on Wednesday, October 29th, and I'll probably never forget it. It wasn't because my band played a good song, nor was it my first concert with them, but half of it was because of something I didn't even have a choice in. Concerts are usually what I look forward to, as everyone else does because that means our hard work and swollen embouchures are finally going to pay off. However, I was absolutely dreading this concert about two weeks before I would be on the stage.
My last class is my jazz ensemble class. Since my bus doesn't leave for ten minutes after the bell, I usually lag behind after everyone a little everyday. I would put away the chairs and the music stands, and compliment people on their playing. After, I would take apart my trombone, thank the director, and attempt to squeeze my ginormous instrument out the door an onto the bus. Out of the blue, on one spiffy day, the instructor decided to approach me.
"Hey, you're planning on soloing in the concert right?"
"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it."
"Do you want a solo?"
"Uhhh... well, I don't know if I would be a good play--"
"It doesn't matter anyways, you're gonna solo. I wasn't gonna give you a choice."*
*I do not remember exactly what he said, I just remember the part about not having a choice in the soloing
My face:
To a person like you, you may think that being forced to do a solo is a great thing. By being forced, it might mean I'm good at playing trombone in a sort-of-maybe-sounding-good way. Playing an improv solo is definitely not anywhere close to sort-of-maybe-sounding-good. During the solo, I will have to drag my butt out of my chair, drag it to the front of the stage, and play into a microphone. Doesn't sound too hard, right?
Except for the fact that it's an improv solo. For all of you that don't know what improv means, it basically means to make up on the spot without practice. Yeah, and I have to do that in front of people. All week I practiced scales, just so I could play in the right key while performing stuff that I don't even know how to write down on a staff. While in class, the solos I played went okay, but the on-stage rehearsal was just crud.
On stage, I screwed up all of my playing during rehearsal. We had a small audience, witch threw my nerves off quite a lot. I couldn't reach notes and I forgot all of the accidentals. Plus, when my solo came, I dragged my butt to the wrong microphone. Not only that, but when the vibes were supposed to play, they didn't. So what did I do? I stood there, waiting for a cue, like an idiot. My directer stopped the the music, pointed to the vibes, and cued us off again. After that, I awkwardly dragged my butt off of the stage.
Just letting you know, this is the stage I play in front of people on
Then the concert night finally came. I put my jazz black on and put my horn in the car. It was absolutely terrifying. The drive to the concert was only about fifteen minutes, but it seemed like four days. I walked into the band room, which I have no idea how because my knees were shaking so much. As usual, I put my instrument together and talked with my friends. When I was warming up, I worked on my improv. I played a small phrase that consisted of nervous thirty-second notes and a high register. When I stopped, none of my friends seemed to care. Devon on the other hand, was proud.
"Did you guys not just hear that? She just LAID IT DOWN!"
Being the shaky bag of flesh and bones that I am, I laughed and high-fived Devon. I continued warming up, until the instructor told us the stage set.
After minutes of waiting, I was eventually on stage. I sat down in my lead chair and waited for a downbeat from the director. He came out and talked to the audience a bit, which did not make my spider-infested torso feel any better. After just about a little bit of forever passed, he turned around, gave a downbeat, and left the stage. We, as in me, were playing the chart pretty okay with only a few mishaps here and there. Then the director entered the stage again to cue my solo.
As mentally prepared as I was (I wasn't), I dragged my vibrating and jumpy spider body to the mic at the front of the stage. I played a small tune, which thankfully ended up in key. Then I did a small bow, which from the audience it looked like I broke my leg. As I was walking back to my chair, the director gave me a small clap and a "Good Job" that made my limp facial muscles smile. The band burned through the rest of the charts, and we got off the stage.
When we walked back to the room, my friends Ryan, Max, Molly, and Amber all congratulated me on my solo. I guess it's a good thing to do something that scares you every once in a while. It leaves you with the ability to do something greater than you ever though you could.
