On the nature of music.....

Today I had the most epic five-minute experience of my life. I got to play on the Ordway Center's main stage. My mom and I came to the Ordway because they were having their 25-year celebration. They had a "25-seconds of fame" deal (which ended up being more like 2 or 3 minutes.... or as many minutes as you wanted if no one else was waiting in line) where anyone could get on the Ordway stage and play whatever they wanted. Or sing. My mom wanted me to sing, but I didn't wanna. Yet, I remembered the time she told me to get Coach boots at Herberger's that were on sale for $10. I didn't wanna because I'd never heard of the brand. She told me I'd regret it, but I didn't know what the brand "Coach" was (gimme a break, I was 12), so I didn't get them. Guess who regrets not getting those Coach boots to this day? And I figured, just like the Coach boots, I'd probably regret not singing. Because she wanted me to. So what do you do when you have 5 minutes to decide on a song to sing or a piece to play? I debated between Jars of Clay's "The Valley Song" and Debussy's Clair De Lune. I decided to sing first. And a reporter from the Pioneer Press took my picture while I was playing/singing. After I finished, he told me that was great and said that Jars of Clay is a great group and he did a semi-interview with me. I told him I wanted to be a concert pianist; that I mainly play classical music but that I sang because my mom wanted me to. He asked me what it felt like to be up there. On the Ordway stage. And that's when it hit me.
What did it feel like? I thought for a minute and then responded with, "Not as bad as I thought it'd be." He laughed and said, "Well besides not bad, how did it feel?" Honestly, it didn't feel. I was nervous about getting up there because of the 30ish people that were watching me. And because I have a fear of extremely large concert halls (and small enclosed) spaces. But then he asked me, "Or how did you think it would feel?" I told him I thought it'd be scary. I've always thought that if someone was performing, they'd see the thousands of people out of the corner of their eye, freak out, and continue playing just because they had to because they had a sold out show. And because they wanted to show off all the years of dedication and talent it took to get there. But honestly, on stage, I couldn't really see the auditorium. Like the lights were so bright that I couldn't see anything out of the corner of my eye. And as far as what I felt? I felt music. I felt calm. I felt like nothing else could really make me happier than to call a stage like that my home. It was THE most amazing five minutes of my life. And then I went back up about 20 minutes later to play Clair De Lune.
But something struck me while I was waiting to sing. A cellist who looked about 40-ish years old got up there to play some cello piece. She didn't play all the right notes. A lot of them were actually wrong. And her tempo was way off; in fact, I didn't really know if she had an internal tempo going on in her head. The whole thing seemed to be a muddled mess of rubato followed my accelerando. But it dawned on me that perhaps 20 years ago, she was where I was. For all I know, she could've even been a Juilliard graduate. But maybe somewhere down the line, she gave up. Or got discouraged. Or figured that graduating from college was more important than loving music. And I thought about Lucia Micarelli, who I consider one of the best concert violinists of the 21st century. I watched a youtube video of her. And she's a college dropout. She went to Juilliard and then the Manhattan school of music. She said she dropped out because she realized, she just LOVED music and college was only making her love it less and less. She said all she wanted to do was play. And play. And play. But that she had rent to pay, and living in NYC, rent doesn't come cheap. So she took all the gigs that she could. And ended up where she is today. A world-traveling soloist. And I thought about where I'm at at Westminster. Last semester was insane. The time it takes to be a music major is like having a full time job on top of 17 credits. I can see why so many people switch majors or drop out or go to non-music schools. It's not mentally challenging, but it is VERY tiring. And I realized, I don't want to necessarily be a college dropout. But for the next couple of years, I will stick to the 12-14 credits and see what happens. Because I want to take time to not only perfect music for juries and my lessons, but to play music. For fun. Because I love it and because I think it's beautiful, not because someone else tells me to play it to meet a requirement. So even though I dunno if I'll be in the Pioneer Press tomorrow morning or make a debut at the Ordway Center 3 years from now, I know that I want to play music. And play. And play. I want to touch the piano keys. I want to hear the warm sounds of a 7 chord. I want to feel the calm that comes with playing a Chopin Nocturne, and the rush of adrenaline that comes with playing the Diabolic Inspiration by Prokofiev. I want to not feel. To not feel anything but music rushing through me. And I want to do whatever it takes to get that feeling. Later,
Rachel