Fear and loathing in lower Orpington

• By Alison
• 14 March, 2010
• 17 Comments

I haven’t really spoken about music for some time now, and there is a reason for that. I talked about how my nerves got the better of me in a rehearsal last september, and despite any random pep talks I may have given myself, those nerves decided to stick around.

Last night was our spring concert. My orchestra does 3 concerts each year (season) and we spend the prior few months rehearsing for each one. Two hours of rehearsal each week isn’t really a lot when suddenly the big day is looming.

And my nerves were really jangling.

I didn’t ever have this problem in my early musical days. It’s only been a problem since I started playing again. I am really really afraid that I am going to make a mistake – even when I know the music inside out.

Part of this is also linked to the fact that in the orchestra – for a flute – there is nowhere to hide. You are only ever the only person on your part. There is no doubling up on a part like there can be in a Concert Band. If you miss an entry, it’s missed. 

Actually, years ago when I played in the army we never did double up. But then again – I never was the solo part. And also, I was top of my game then.

So last night we played 4 pieces. Beethoven’s Coriolan and 4th Symphony – both premiered in 1807, Wagner’s Seigfried Idyll – written for his wife after the birth of their boy in 1870, and Schumann’s Cello concerto.

I played first flute in the Coriolan, and second flute in the Cello concerto. The other two pieces had only one flute part. So I played the Idyll, and the other lady played the Symphony. She pulled the short straw – the symphony was the longest and trickiest part of the four pieces by far. 

We started with the Coriolan. It one was totally fine, I was on top of that. The only weird bit being the addition of several instruments that we’d never heard in weekly rehearsal – second bassoon, second clarinet and a pair of horns.

Then came the Idyll. The thing with this piece of music is that the flute has some lovely little refrains over the top of everyone else, with about 40 bars rest in between each. And the piece is not a traditional repeticious melody – if you get lost, you really get lost. So the lead up to each of my entries was preceeded by grim counting, and attempting to quell the nerves. 

If I’d been playing all though up to each solo part, I’d not have got so nervous. But I had a lot of resting time to devote to getting some real leg shaking finger rattling panic going. You really jam a lot of self sabotage into that length of time.

I sat there telling myself “1 you can play it, 2 you’re not nervous, 3 you’re totally calm, 4 2 3 4, 5 2 3 4, 6 you’re totally calm, 7 you can do this…” and so on. Up about 40 something. I even forced myself to smile calmly and look serene. I was desperate to control my nerves. But I could feel my fingers quivering.

There is a bigger reason why I was so desperate to get control. There is a dark secret behind the nerves this time.

I didn’t mention our last concert – which was in December last year. It’s the moment of my opprobrium.

We played Haydn’s Symphony 101, and I was the first flute. It’s better known as “the clock”. It’s a wonderful piece for the flute, and I had it totally under the fingers. There should have been no problem.

But there was – on the day I woke up to find a huge blind, painful red swelling on my lip. Right on the point where I press the hard edge of the flute. Playing became incredibly painful. I made it through the afternoon rehearsal, but I looked like I’d been kicked by a goat. By the time we got to the concert I was trying to work out whether I should use bonjela on it and make it numb, but I decided that it might have an adverse effect on my embouchure (shape of my lips as I play).

I played the first two movements of the symphony fine – which is good, because the most flute demanding part was the second movement. But at the beginning of the third movement my sound started to go. I didn’t know why at the time, but my lip had become so swollen that I could no longer form my embrouchure correctly. I had to play louder to get a clear sound, and much of my part needed to be soft. 

I felt a rush of heat and my whole body went into panic. I managed to finish both movements, but not well. And the sheer panic that was running through me managed to make me stuff up a last entry and put it in entirely the wrong place. 

I got the super glare and eyebrow gather from the conductor. His body language was swearing at me in some four letter words I didn’t even know the meaning of.

My mother in law was in the audience. She said it was lovely and she didn’t notice anything that sounded wrong. But that didn’t help. I felt as if I should slink away and never go back. I was so mortified. I knew that most people in the orchestra, and most emphatically the conductor knew just how badly I’d stuffed it up.

So fast forward to last night – I was pre-terrified that I would just randomly mess everything up – despite the fact that I had no great big simmering boil on my face, and that I knew my solo parts off by heart. I was afraid that my FEAR would become a self fulfilling prophesy. The more I worried about stuffing it up, the more likely I WAS to totally stuff it up.

I won’t drag it out – I played it well. Beautifully almost. I missed two notes out, but didn’t play any wrong ones. I may have dragged out one bit and not been perfectly in time, but I ended in the right(ish) place.

I couldn’t stop smiling after that. I’d broken my camel’s back. I didn’t fall over the hump, I kicked it to pieces. 

We played the Schumann, which did have a couple of errors in it – I found myself playing alone for a moment when the other flute forgot to come in and that made me assume I was probably wrong! But none that were horrendously obvious. And the soloist cellist was quite dishy and interesting to watch – even from behind. He played like a dream and had the prerequisite floppy fringe hair which he flipped about as he bowed away.

And that was it – the entire second half was the symphony which I wasn’t playing, so I was able to sit with my family and enjoy it.

It makes such a big difference to my whole outlook now I have gotten past my awful screw up from last concert. It’s like a huge weight lifted off me.