I’m writing this post almost six, seven months after my junior recital took place, but I felt it important to process the experience through writing - first, to try and make sense of the wide spectrum of emotions before, during and after the recital; and secondly, to note down some of the lessons I learned.
In freshman year, the thought of having to put on a whole show of just my music was enough to send me into a panic. But by my junior year, I was excited: sharing the stage with others is always a good time, but it often left me confused as to how and where to categorise my pieces. Having a recital with just my music was going to be an opportunity to present my music within the context of itself.
The process was not smooth. I had to work around all these contingencies. For instance, I had to find a new player two days before, I had to make the decision to cut a performer two minutes before, and generally just dealing with the anxiety of knowing that the first time everyone was available to play two of the five pieces at the same time, in one place, was during the recital itself. Not to mention feeling unsupported by the school’s music department.
But I loved the process, particularly the rehearsals. It’s awkward at first, especially if I’m meeting the players for the first time. How assertive should I be? How much should I let them off in the beginning? The frustration of hearing my piece being butchered a little bit here and there before things started to click felt like someone poking your eye with a needle, and it would also make me question my own writing. Then there comes the moment when things suddenly click for the players and, to hear that happen is euphoric. Everything that’s been in your head come to life in this new, beautiful, affirming, and I-could-never-have-imagined way.
In many ways, my recital was a turning point for how I understood myself as a composer. I walked out of the process with so many beautiful relationship with all these inspiring musicians. Knowing that they enjoyed what I wrote and chose to put in time and effort into helping realise the vision - for the big reason that they believed in me (or at least in my music) - made my heart melt. It’s humbling. On another note, I got fantastic recordings of pieces that I’m proud of, which are both important things.
Fresh from the bruises of the hiccups of my junior recital, I came into the first semester of my senior year committed to doing certain things differently for my upcoming senior recital in the Spring. Fewer musicians so you can co-ordinate more rehearsals together. Nothing too complicated, tech-wise. However, as I write this going into Spring semester, I realise that all the hiccups that occured during my junior recital were directed by the music. For instance, having 7 players in one piece was frustrating to co-ordinate. But that’s what the music called for. Dealing with the percussion department was difficult too, but that's what the music called for. And so if there’s one thing I want to take forward with me - not as I only prepare for my senior recital but even for every other future performance of my music - is to let the music lead me. Even if it means I need a lot of people involved. Even if it means I need to send ten-thousand e-mails to people I’ve never met about needing a vibraphone. It’ll be exhausting, no doubt, but it’s a good tired, and it’s fully worth it.
————