Assessments

Performers often assess their performances after shows. Here's mine: I have made a total ass of myself yesterday. I don't mind looking like a fool in front of audiences. I can live with personal mistakes (excruciating, but I must bear humiliation and punishment for stupid lapses), but never when they occur at the expense of others. Yesterday I have let my leader down. I have humiliated four dancers in front of tens of audiences. I have shamed them in front of their colleagues. How they managed is inconsequential to me and it doesn't matter that I was able to recover halfway through the number. I have no excuse.

It's amazing how circumstances can take you from the highest high to the lowest. Just this Monday I performed a duet for invocation and three anthems with a violinist friend. Among the audience members were foreigners, representatives from the biggest private corporations in the country, and attendees from different local government units. It wasn't a performance per se (do we count invocations as a performance?). But I felt honored and equally responsible for a good show because I carried the name of my school, and the president the university was present. We made mistakes, but forgivable ones.

Monday was the first time I ever sat and played my guitar in such an atmosphere. Considering that the last "public performance" I gave with my guitar was back in high school. It was a simple, one song number for our class adviser, coming from us graduates. I played alone. As I mentioned, I am dreadfully afraid of solos, which was what made group perfs more bearable pre- and during shows. I don't really know what happened yesterday. I was lead drummer, and I went through all rehearsals (two days' worth) confidently. I know the piece - I have been playing it for the past four years and am as familiar with it as the backs of my hands. I wasn't particularly nervous when it was our turn to play. The result: I fcking missed my beat and I wasn't able to recover.

I felt like an ass seeing the dancers' confused movements, our lead's disappointment painted on her face. Fck fck fck.

Performers always believe they could have done better. We are our worst critics. But often this sentiment isn't just borne out of pride or confidence. Mistakes cannot be erased or redone, and performers always answer to themselves, beyond their team, beyond the dancers and the co-musicians. Right now, I'm just disappointed with myself. I don't think I'll ever live this down and I don't know if I could ever trust myself in the near future. I will forgive in time (in time), but not now. Yesterday was too sickening.

Going Solo

I'm writing an artist's bio for something big that I won't share just right now because I'm afraid I might get jinxed. I'm seriously debating whether I should or not write "She's afraid of performing solo," and "She shakes, gets the jitters and messes up the pieces on stage." Then I'll follow it up with "She greatly enjoys making and playing music with other people, though" to counterbalance the first.

I'm also thinking if I should add "She loves to watch the faces of each of her audience members - catch the brilliance in their eyes and store in her memory the wonder etched on their mouths."

Those faces, I don't quite know how to explain them. When I'm on stage I feel like I'm watching the greatest show on Earth: the majesty of a face distorted by the discovery of something beautiful. They're so mystical and they fill my heart with purpose.

This is why I perform. It's all for them.

Misplaced Notes, Missing Lyrics

Have you ever experienced pausing midway of a song and trying to grab on to nothing?

I often find myself suspended in that limbo. No matter how many times I play back a song, no matter how many times I practice, I forget the words or where to place my fingers. This is why I don't trust myself to perform solos. No way. Or at least not now.

I read somewhere that such forgetfulness is borne out of distraction. But in my case, no. I do not think of anything else when I play. Well... I do not think of anything at all. Not even the piece. I don't run pieces in my head when I play, like watching a dummy board when talking in front of cameras. I tend to rely on hard wired muscle memory, using the succession of notes to cue me in on the words.

I tried playing with a dummy board in my mind, but found myself more prone to mistakes. I tried reading words and sheets while playing. I paused more often than necessary. With memorization, I play (relatively) smoothly and more tranquilly. I hate dependence on the sheets and papers.

But there's a point where a song just stops. It doesn't want to work with me. And I'm clasping empty air, missed notes and lyrics. I rehash the song from the beginning and find myself pausing at the same moments, losing more as I trudge along. Falling on quicksand. Another song has moved beyond me, not wanting to cooperate.

In due time, my head and hands finally get it. But it's never the same magic.