Principally speaking....

*WARNING: THIS BLOG MAY BE VERY LONG. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.*

For the majority of this past evening, I had the pleasure---or was it torture? of sitting first chair at a dress rehearsal tonight.

Mind you, no one nominated me for this---this was an idea I brought up, and my section, being kind as ever and recognizing how pathetic I am, allowed me that seat. Our regular principal was stuck about an hour and a half south of us, with a car that lost it's muffler, so I totally jumped all over this opportunity to head up my section. I said to everyone, "This will make great fodder for my blog!"

I have sat principal many times, and each time I had a different mindset. In high school orchestra, I was first chair and most people below me were REALLY below me in talent. Being young and stupid, I thought being first chair meant I was the coolest person ever, and I loved the feeling of importance it gave me. Then I went through a phase in college where I was cocky and treated the principal chair with that kind of manner, and then later on in college I realized it was a privilege to lead a section, and that should do my utmost whilst occupying that chair.

Tonight I approached the principal chair with excitement---after all, I had really enjoyed leading a section at IU, and when would I ever get to do that again? So, after the Verdi, where I was sitting my usual 6th chair, I moved up, with the consent of my section.

The next piece on the agenda was Mussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition" and I found myself with quite a mixture of feelings, sitting in this new chair. At first I just thought it'd be FUN to be first chair, and then all of a sudden, I wanted to PROVE myself to my section. (I don't believe I ever did, though). I desperately wanted to say "Look what I can do! I took 5 years off of playing the bass, and I'm just getting in to it again, but I'm GOOD. I can lead a section well, I promise!" Oh how foolish of me! I can't believe I sat there. It turned out to be partial misery.

The first bit of misery came from hearing a bassist behind me. Now, his playing wasn't miserable at all. In fact, this dude---who we'll call Matt, is probably one of the best bassist's I've heard in a while. He's a grad student at IU (of course) and his bass sounds sweet sweet sweet, and his playing is impeccable. I had said to him earlier in the evening that he should sit principal, although he laughed and shook his head no. The misery of me sitting in front of him and hearing his wonderful bass playing was that it made me realize how INADEQUATE my playing is. So, complex no. 1 creeps in to the situation: great bassist sitting behind me, and all I hear is near perfection, and I begin to feel stupid.

Along with that, I became nervous. I am NEVER nervous on stage. After all, I'm a section player with very little ego, so I don't feel I need to show off for anyone, or impress anyone, or basically be anything other than a faithful, musical member of the section. But sitting principal was different. All of a sudden, I realized my mistakes might be louder than normal---or more observed, rather, since the whole section can pretty much see me. I began to question every single time my left hand touched the bass. Was my counting right? It was, yet I didn't trust myself.

A lot of this can be attributed to me not working on the music enough. Shame on me. I was, and am truly embarrassed by my lack of preparation. I kept wishing this were the Mahler concert, where I would have totally torn things up and been the world's greatest principal ever, since I knew/know that work left, right, center, backwards, forwards, etc etc etc. I was doing my best, yet I kept wishing I had done my best in the practice room for these pieces!

I found myself questioning all my fingers, and certainly all my bowings, which is odd---normally I believe I have the best bowings on the face of the earth, but tonight I was lucky I even knew how to hold my bow, let alone do good bowings.

After the Mussorgsky, where I played well here and there and awfully in other places, my section mates and I chatted a bit about the music. We talked in particular about a finger for a part that goes up chromatically in fourths, rather quickly: GC AbDb AD BbEb. Let's do a quick recap of the bass, and it's tunings---my beloved instrument is tuned in fourths, so basically I could put one finger down on both strings, and voila, there were my fourths. All I had to do was move up chromatically. For this, one could choose a myriad of fingerings, and I don't see how one is better than the other---but perhaps I'm ignorant. Since that part does require strong fingers to be quick and whatnot, I chose to go up with my second finger all the way, because it is strong enough to push down both strings and get a good sound. Others in my section do 1-2 1-2 and then some do 1-2 then go to open A and D strings and then play the last two in half position. (lowest position on a bass). I don't like to do the open strings because I feel I have no control over my bow. Matt was showing me what he did, and kind of mocking my fingering, or at least giving the impression he thought it was a lesser fingering. Oh, dear reader, you can NOT imagine the feelings of stupidity that washed over me like a tidal wave. I felt small, insignificant, pathetic, useless, and plain dumb. The fact that I went to IU, studied with the best teachers and have played many Mahler symphonies and listen to classical music all the time and have a great ear and have played with tons of regional orchestras therefore giving me tons of experience playing many major works and I travel around the country to hear music and I'm a critic in Indianapolis and people here respect what I have to say---ALL OF THIS COUNTED FOR NOTHING. I was simply an inadequate bassist sitting in the big chair, and I couldn't fill it at all, in any way, shape or form. My fingerings were stupid, my bowings were lacking, my counting was suspect---but what got me was that my fingering was stupid. I have no issues being told what might be a good fingering, trust me. In rehearsal the day before, Mr. 5th chair, a very nice gentleman we'll call Nick, suggested something for me for a certain part, and I'm glad he did---I needed the help! If I were the me that I was years ago, I would have been resentful of his suggestion, and even MORE so if it worked, but now that I've matured just a little bit, I am happy to get all the help I can with my playing. Yet another bassist essentially said "That fingering is stupid" and I felt like falling apart. He wasn't mean or anything, but he had a look when he was talking about my fingering, and then when he demonstrated it, all of him seemed to say "Look how dumb this is!"

I then took that---and all my insecurities about bowings, counting, intonation and everything else, and began to internalize all of that, and I then found my self esteem being based on THOSE THINGS. I couldn't count right all the time (strange, normally that's a plus of mine) so therefore I was STUPID. My bowings were imprecise, my intonation was wanting, and all of this caused me to look at myself as a failure. I failed to be a good principal (I made decent eye contact with the conductor and occasionally was good with head nods to the section) so therefore I failed as a human being. It was truly horrendous to have these feelings. I was having spurts of fun here and there for the parts I could play well; otherwise I felt like crap.

Intermission came and I jetted out of there after the whole "Your fingering sucks" incident. I wanted to escape myself, so upstairs I went for some cheese! I laughed with some friends about what an awful principal I was, and I made good jokes about it, all while still feeling like the worst human on earth.

The second half of the evening was Saint Saeen's "Organ Symphony", a piece that I have hated in the past, but come to love now. By this point by brain had not only convinced me of my stupidity and lack of worth, but my brain even convinced itself that it was dumb! So I just held on for the ride, nervous as can be about a piece that needs a lot of counting here and there. I had a few moments where I knew what I was doing and was sure of it, and those moments were of pure bliss for me! Oh, to know your part and to play it well! Ah! I can't think of what is more wonderful on earth than that! But then others I wasn't so sure of, so I was toggling between knowing what I was doing, and not. It was an awful ride.

At one point after I had messed up pretty big, the orchestra stopped, and the conductor worked with some section or another. Behind me I heard Nick and Matt laughing about something, and I had this distinct paranoid feeling that it was about me and what an awful principal I was. I was sure of it (at the time, although now not so much). I would have bet my life at that time that they were laughing at me and my pitiful skills. I somehow continued with my downward spiral of self esteem death, and managed to get through the piece.

Rehearsal was over. People were packing up and gearing for their long rides home. I was practicing excerpts, and without anyone around me, I all of a sudden had a complete change in mood after I listened to myself play something from Mozart 35. I played it well, with vigor and clarity, and I felt good about myself. How funny, eh? I went from one extreme to the other, from hating myself as a bassist (and therefore as an overall human being) to liking my playing, and consequently liking myself as a human being. The feeling then got even better when Jared came over offering me a studio gig which I had to unfortunately decline, and when Brad stopped by and we had a little chat about how we knew each other 15 years ago. I felt ok--I felt valid! But then my thoughts went to what went on earlier in the night, and a wave of embarrassment mingled with depression overcame me. Then, to make things worse, I heard bad news about the audition I'm taking next week (substitute position with the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra): instead of about 20 people showing up, 30 are showing up!!! Oh man. 29 chances to be told what a bad player I am! Can't wait!

I am fragile regarding this, can you tell? I think my bass playing means far more to me now than it ever has in my life. I genuinely want to play the bass for the rest of my life, as a career. Not as an evening gig, not for fun, but for LIFE. I used to simply want to do it so I could play all those exciting bass lines, but those captivate me no longer. Instead I am enamored with the idea of honoring someone's art, of doing it justice while being one of a small section in a big orchestra, yet knowing that my playing counts, and that it is important. There is nothing more thrilling than this, if you ask me. (well, perhaps romantic love, but I avoid that like the plague) We were playing boring old whole notes tonight, and I relished them and loved on them and treated them with deep kindness and love and didn't dismiss them because they weren't moving--after all, all they were doing was just being fat on a bar line! But I loved them for that, for they gave me a chance to soak up all that was around me, and therefore make the most of this thing called the musical experience. Simple quarter notes, long whole notes, and boring parts are glorious to me, because they are still a part of a much larger picture! Even if it doesn't seem so, it is! And I also see great beauty in those parts because they support the melody and the piece in general. I love taking a back seat in orchestra to lift up others---does this make sense to you? If I wanted all the bad ass parts, I would be a violinist. I don't though. Instead I want to be a foundation for others, so they can best do what they do. The way for me to help someone do their best in the orchestra is for me to love those whole notes, love those long sustained notes that go on forever, and those stupid little annoying pizzicato parts that can easily get on your nerves. I find it my job and complete privilege to do such things, as well.

And it is with that love, and because of it, that I had such an evening. I can't think of any other reason why I would have such strong emotions and feelings all night. If I didn't care so much, then everything would have just rolled off my back. Instead, every emotion, feeling, and experience looked me in the eyes and refused to look away until I acknowledged, welcomed, embraced, and fought with them all. They were people in my life, essentially, confronting me. Insecurity had shifty eyes, and chewed his fingernails and the inside of his lip. He is intelligent, yet...maybe he's not? Maybe he thinks too much of himself, and everyone but him seems to know he's stupid. He fears that really becoming true, but it really might be, and that overwhelms him sometimes, to the point where he would love to just shut down. Nervous also came by to say hello to me, and to Insecurity as well (where he wondered if Nervous meant it, or was just being nice and polite but actually didn't really care.) Nervous had murdered confidence (and a distant cousin, Fake Confidence) earlier in the evening, and with a hearty slap on my back, wished me luck! He affected much of my performance, including my vibrato, which sounded like I had drank 65 venti Starbucks Gold Coast coffees. Another dude stopped by after the others had done their work, and this guy was evil: Low Self Esteem, aka Low Self Worth. He lurked like fog I couldn't seem to clear. I would swipe at it and it would disappear, only to return 2 seconds later. It was heavy, thick, and insisted on staying, and intensifying. Together they were a wicked threesome, to be sure.

They left though, as soon as orchestra disbanded, and they RSVP'd in the "unsure" concerning tonight's performance. I'll be sitting back in my rightful chair, with nowhere near as many pressures as I had last night, so why would they visit me? Surely they have other musicians to bug.

I have invited Confidence, Healthy View of Oneself and One's Bass Playing, and Joy to join me tonight. They expressed great happiness at being invited, and promised to come in spades.