First and foremost, let me apologize to myself for never taking the time to fully research and explore a piece of music I have played. I'm apologizing to myself, because I have committed the greatest disservice to me. I think every piece that I have performed or practiced since I started my path to becoming a classical percussionist would have been much more rewarding and enjoyable for the time spent.
Secondly, I feel foolish for deciding to play such difficult, complex, and substantial works in my auditions without having thought of their origins or their meanings.
These conclusions are the result of an eye-opening experience. When you are sitting in a room after performing one of the hardest pieces of your repertoire and the professor of the school you are auditioning for says, "What can you tell me about this composer and this piece?"
Well, if you don't know anything...you can either lie or do what I did- admit that you don't have any clue! Haha. That's right. I did. But I do not regret it.
Perhaps when the rejection letters start arriving, my tune will change. But I right now I feel that I have just been afforded the opportunity to learn and grow.
Only my closest confidants know that I have felt only like a visitor in this strange world of percussion and classical music. Often I have wondered why I do play this music that I have no overt connection to? What do I listen to? Which musical elements speak clearly to me? Why have I decided to play music, if only to perform music I do not enjoy listening to?
I AM NOT SURE WHY.
Originally I found percussion through the marimba. An instrument that I would gladly die playing, because the sound is more supple than water, more sensual that the human body, more real than the earth itself. The marimba, not the marimbist or marimba music, affected my soul.
As a result of choosing the marimba, every other percussion instrument followed suit. You can't only play the marimba! Duh!!! And actually, I really believe that it is unhealthy for your growth as a marimbist to only play the marimba.
I was encouraged to pick up a pair of concert snare drum sticks and the kinesethetic connection was deep. There's no denying the simplicity and rawness of holding a pair of sticks and letting your arms and hands do what is most natural.
It started with sound. It should always be about sound. If I want to continue playing music and if I want to enjoy my life as a musician, I think that is where I have to live. In a place where my artistic priorities are clear.
So this brings me back to my Stony Brook audition this last Saturday. As I had just played my brains out, grasping and groping for each impossible note...the professor of percussion thanks me and then asks: "What do you know about the composer and this piece?"
You can imagine my mortification when I couldn't remember having spent the time or affording the time to research any information about the piece. How silly? Isn't this what music is all about? Yes and NO.
I believe you research so that you can understand...knowledge is empowerment. There is no crime in knowing. I wish that I could go back 6-9 months ago and research each piece I decided to play for my grad school auditions and decide..."Does this resonate with me?" Maybe I won't always get the choice to choose, but in order to make those choices you need to be informed.
To wrap up my tirade, thank you Eduardo. I don't know if you will accept me, but I learned a valuable lesson about music. About my music.
If each note counts, if each note speaks volumes of thoughts that cannot be expressed in words, then it is imperative that one knows as much about those notes and their origins, their meanings.
If I can help it, and my belief is that I most of the time I will be able to, I will never be uniformed about a piece of music I play ever again! And to tack on one more thing- I will never be this unprepared with my music ever again!
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