Okay, honestly, I promise this is the last post on piano that I'll do for a while. But today was my final piano performance for my sophomore year... and it was intense. It was my recital. And although it seems as if recitals would be a little more relaxed than competitions... eh, not really. Everyone is terrified. Shaking. Shifting from side to side wishing it was all over. Recitals tend to be that way. And then once it's all over you're overjoyed and birds are singing and the world is rejoicing and singing the Hallelujah Chorus. No joke.
It all began this morning. I woke up at seven feeling awful and nervous and was nearly shaking I was so nervous. Yes.... I get nervous and shaky up to 12 hours before I supposed to play. Pitiful, I know, but that's just me. I got up a little bit later, but didn't start practicing until about 12. After that it was on and off playing until it was time to leave. There I was, all fancied up for the recital (prom dress and all. My recitals are pretty legit), and trying to choke down a chicken salad. You see, I can barely ever eat when I'm nervous. It makes me feel even more nervous, and then it makes me feel sick. But I managed to actually eat, and then I went and played a little bit before we left. I was sounding great. That is, until the last two times I ran through my Moszkowski etude. It was pretty bad. In fact, it nearly sounded awful. So I was awfully nervous and all sorts of horrible things that could happen were running through my head. But off to the music hall at the local college we went. Once we got there, I got to sit with my buddies Nick and Barret (best pianists evverrr). Barret and I mused over how we hated being so late in the recital. I was 12th out of 16, and Barret was right after me. Nick picked on me horribly. Apparently he likes making people feel ten times more nervous than they already are. But all the same, he made me laugh in the process so maybe it balanced out...? Anyway, soon enough the recital was under way, and hearts started racing. My teacher had some of the most talented students play a Beethoven sonata, each student playing a different movement. After that there were all the adorable kids who show off and are so proud of themselves. And -then- it happens. People start playing your level music. And they're all playing it perfectly. Which puts you under even more pressure because then you feel like you have to do at least as well, preferably better.
About half way through, Nick played. The way he plays music is basically out of this world. The last piece he played was so good it had me nearly in fits of joyful giggles 'cause it was such a frolicsome piece. But as he stepped down, it hit me like a baseball in the head (which trust me is not loads of fun.... it's happened to me before). I realized only three more girls were going to go, and then it would be my turn. Oh joy. Suddenly it occurred to me that getting a fever and throwing up or having a seizure would be incredibly convenient. But, as always, those kinds of things don't happen when they're terribly convenient. The three girls went. The last girl was quite good, but me? I could barely pay attention. Nerves. Shaky hands. Feeling like I might even possibly DIE because of the stress. Okay. It wasn't that bad. But nonetheless, I was nervous. I was praying really hard. And I told myself as she was stepping down that it was my turn to show everyone what kind of talent I got. Whooo. Go me. Feel the excitement. Can I die now? Yeah. I really hate playing for people if you didn't catch my drift.
I got up there. I sat down. I adjusted my dress, my bench... and then it was time to play. I played Soft Lights first (yeah, the piece that I played for Festival and those two other competitions). Of course that one doesn't really scare me, but all the same, I was shaking. Legs, arms, hands, -everything- was shaking. Thankfully it wasn't visible but trust me, it was occurring. That piece went fine. I don't remember any particular slip ups, so it was fine. But then came my nemesis. I had mostly got it down, but if you recall from about ten paragraphs up (yeah, I talk a lot. Blogger is handy in that respect), I had played it pretty badly before I left for the recital. But I began playing. And I was playing. And not messing up. And there were people out there watching me
not mess up. Yeessss. Success much! I kept playing and playing. Only on the third page did I make my first very minor mistake. And then on the last page I made a very weird mistake that I don't ever recall having made. I forgot the notes. I made something up. It sounded bad but hopefully not too noticeable. And then continued. And from there it went perfectly. I played it nearly perfectly! If you've been around me at all, you have probably heard me say that while I was walking down I was seriously restraining myself from bursting into a random Irish jig. I was so delighted that it was over and I no longer had to worry about it or think about it or be nervous about it or practice for hours on end to get ready for it.
In fact, I was so joyful I was like a little kid the rest of the recital. I could barely pay attention to anything. Sure, I listened to the music and enjoyed it immensely, but there's nothing like the feeling of finishing something that you've been dreading for weeks. After I went, Barret went... and he blew me away. It is very, very, very rare that someone will make me smile nearly the whole time they're playing. Barret has that unusual talent of making me do that. I'm completely serious when I say at one point I honestly could not see his hands. They were moving so fast that I couldn't tell which was which or what they were doing. All I knew is this incredible sound was coming from the notes he was playing. When he began I was already delighted enough that I was done. But by the time he was done I was completely ready to squeal and giggle and laugh. Have you picked up on the fact I was (and still am) completely hyper and giggly and gleeful? Of course you haven't. Hah.
Anyway, the rest of the students who played were knock-out good. It's rare that you go to a recital and you feel like you're in a world-class concert.
After the recital was cake and punch and happiness all around. Good stuff. Also, I was terribly excited because I think I had at least 4 or 5 people compliment me on my expression in the way I play. Which made me oh-so-delighted because one of my former teachers used to tell me over and over that I needed to add more expression to the way I play. And voila! After much practice, I can finally do it.
And below, you may view my performance, if you'd like.
P.S. Congratulations if you actually read this whole post that was posted completely out of the remaining hyperness that was left in me after finishing my recital. I respect you for having such endurance.
