04 December 2004

Four months of work have been brought to fulfillment in a mere hour and a half. Why is it that things you work so hard for pass so quickly? Take a meal for instance. You can spend an entire week preparing and cooking, and the whole thing takes perhaps a couple of hours to eat (the conversation lasts, hopefully, much longer than that). Well, its the same way with a concert. You practice and practice, and just because you of course don't have anything better to do, you practice some more. You listen to the work on CD for extra re-enforcement. And then the big night, and suddenly you are up there in front of everyone and the music starts and you murmur a silent prayer that you can remember all of the entrances and don't hit any wrong notes (especially in that one number that has been giving you trouble...) You stand, watching and listening (trying not to let it show on your face that your feet are now ready to commit suicide in protest for putting them in those ridiculous shoes). Look out at all the people, seeing who is interested, who is just there. Glance at the clock, amazed that you are almost done, it is the last song, and you still feel like you just walked up onto the risers. Heart still beating hard, the last note held and cut, all in unison. And then the applause, heralding an odd, sad-ish feeling into the very bottom of the heart. Its all over, bow. Sing the encore. Bow, its all over.
There ought to be more to show for all that work...something I can hold and keep (other than a sore throat ;-)

Just for the record, I am planning to do something else with my time next semester... piano lessons perhaps, or judo...
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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ah, performance anxiety. Oh, but I do understand how that goes. And it is so strange that so much work is come and gone for something settled relatively quickly, for good or ill. However, when you're part of an ensemble, the bonding alone is worth it.

And what AM I going on about, you ask?

I am the lead drummer for Lafayette's Oasis Dance Ensemble here in Louisiana; a belly-dancing troupe accompanied by drummers {two of which double as flutists}. Recently, our largest and most frightfully prepared-for gig has been the Louisiana Renaissance Festival in Hammond. And, with the BANG-thud of the signal cannon this evening, our weekends at the Ren Fest are done.

We went out to Hammond {near New Orleans, for you out-of-state folk}, at 6:00 in the morning on the Saturday of each weekend. This meant, by the way, a 4:30/4:45 wakeup, to be dressed in full costume {quite intricate and complicated for the dancers}, and to make the nearly two-hour trip early enough get there for 8:00-ish, set up the "campaign tent" and warm up. It was even earlier the first Saturday, as the we had to get our official IDs and what-not.

We are a near mob in terms of troupes -- fourteen belly dancers and five drummers, doing four performances in various locations two of those weekends, weekends. This weekend, the third, we did two of those in said various places, but were actually PAID ~{cheers and applause}~ to play two of those performances each day upon the King's Stage.

I fear that the King is an impoverished and dissolute old bugger. I say this because His Majesty's Stage is on the other side of the Fest's lake from the major concentration of shops and the entrance as well as the joust. Also, because it is in a state of half-, continuing, or simply somewhat bad construction in comparison to the Queen's Stage. {That, and because we were basically just paid enough to take care of hotel expenses this weekend alone} However, the performances went well, nonetheless. The Sunday crowds, especially with the threat of rain all around, were less than stellar; but the dancers danced beautifully as always, and I was quite pleased with the performance of my drummers. All of us in the Troupe had prepared and practiced heartily for the last two months for this, and I think we acquitted ourselves well, even if true excellence was confined to only a few of the best.

Of course, no performances are without troubles, and three weekends worth allow for many more. Problems here, problems there, and one four-foot head-first fall off of the state for me; but well enough nonetheless and we didn't get rained on, thank God. In the end, we got quite a few compliments, the great gratitude of the owner of the largest drum shop for our custom and our playing there, and some of us got Christmas shopping done to boot.

What? Something wrong? Oh...

Yes, yes, that's right; I said I fell off of the stage. Blood and ashes, I thought you might have missed that...

Yesterday, the act before us, delightfully named "The Bilge Pumps," had jostled the bench set up on-stage just enough so that the back right-hand leg was ever-so-slightly off of the stage. So, as we were setting up the drums, I sat to grab uncase my flutes and get the group warmed up. As I sat, the leg slid. The bench went, and I, failing to regain my balance despite a valiant effort, went with it.

And yes, I did also say it was both four feet and head-first...

But! I managed one of the best bodily-oriented saves of my life. Nearly acrobatic, in fact. As I fell backward and had the split-second realization that it was unavoidable, I twisted in mid-air, slapped the edge of the stage with one hand, f1ipped myself over in mid-air, hit the ground tucking and rolling, ending on my back, laughing heartily at the absurdity and embarrassment of it. Thank you sensei for fine reflexes -- even if I couldn't regain my balance, neither broken bones nor an injured neck or bashed head resulted. Of course, the belly dancers were stunned, as was the crowd. But, I did manage a shaky bow after I was helped to my feet, to applause, no less, and played the performance as always. Anxiety? Anxiety is leading a group, doing double-time sixteenth-beat rolls with shaking hands while willing the humiliated flush in your face to fade. At least you didn't crash off of yours. :-)

So... I ended yesterday at the hotel the sleep-deprived from the 4:45 wake-up, with a bee sting on each hand from warm-ups that morning, a bruise on my hip and ribs and a bite out of my cheek from the fall, and a field promotion to music directed and stunt man.

But, to quote my sister from earlier tonight: "Ah, but scars and bruises are like trophies. You now have even more interesting stories to tell."

On the way home this evening, one of the dancers {now also the girlfriend of one of the drummers as well} began chuckling and brought up a fine point to cap off my interesting performance day. She remarked that it was indeed very good that I wasn't hurt, congratulating me again on the save. But she also said that it would have been quite interesting had I been seriously hurt, with a caravan of belly dancers following the ambulance into the ER. Sort of the inverse of a funeral procession -- dancers in bright coverings peeking henna-painted midriffs and sparkling costumery, jingling in their coin belts and ankle bells and what-all, as they troop out of their cars to follow my stretcher in...

We laughed all the way home.

How's THAT for hard-core!

11:41 PM

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