A while back I mentioned wanting to play a piece I bought a few years ago at the Flute Convention (I think it was in Nashville, but might've been San Diego, it wouldn't matter except I bought it because, if I remember this right, the guy it was composed for [Paul Edmund-Davies] was the performer, and I was very much impressed) for flute and narrator. It's called "The Emperor and the Bird of Paradise." I've been working on it, and will perform it on Sunday (with my friend David doing the narration) at City Garage at their workshop. It's a special workshop - there'll be a lot more people there than usual, and I never go to workshop.
The story is silly; the music is both silly and hard all at the same time. I get to evoke an army of soldiers with clashing swords; a forest full of wolves; a magical piper; a childish, bratty Emperor; and a sad, lonely, and beautiful bird of paradise. Actually, it's a lot of fun to play and has some great technical stuff and really pretty parts, and is exciting, I think, to listen to. I think I can maybe pull it off, but I have to break out the flutter tonguing for a couple of bars, and that makes me really, really nervous.
Why is it when I hear other people flutter tongue, it sounds so lovely and trilling and perfect, but when I do it, it sounds like Charo getting dental work while wearing a suit of armor? Luckily the part with the flutter tonguing is a really dynamic section (the Emperor is angry; "Charo getting dental work" is strangely appropriate!) but it's so hit and miss with me, I'm considering just leaving it out. If I don't like how it's sounding on Saturday, I'm just going to hit those notes really forcefully... and fake it.
Usually I don't get this nervous this far ahead of a performance... but for some reason last night I started thinking about what it means to me to have this opportunity to play at City Garage, for these people. And then all the stupid details: what I'm going to wear, what the acoustics will be like (it's been awhile since I played there), if they'll have an extension cord for my stand light (of course they will), what the light situation will be like for David (Dave said he's wearing a tuxedo, which means I have to wear something that I will be comfortable in and is also at tuxedo-level, which means I have nothing suitable in my closet, and very little time to shop), and all these details probably aren't even my business to be worrying about... but I am.
(By the way, I would be comfortable in flip flops, my ratty jeans, and a black v-neck sweater. I don't think I can wear that, and I hate having this be an issue, but my clothes suck.)
Last night I practiced for awhile, and I concentrated on the sections that are hard but aren't scary-hard, first. I was fine. Then I heard the little girl next door crying, and their dog barking, and I thought, oooh, that's not a good sign (it was so hot, I had all the doors and windows open. This is not a delicate piece, for the most part; it's loud). Then I went back and shut the little girl and the dog out of my mind and worked the hard parts, and I mean worked them out... but I am stuck, because they're not perfect, every time; because time is running out, and I don't know if I'll be at the "play it ten times perfectly" place by Sunday.
It's totally stupid, because I rarely, if ever, get to that place anyway, and maybe it's an unrealistic goal for someone like me, and to be really honest, I'm not exactly known for my work ethic (I have been really, really lucky), and maybe I'm being hard on myself... but I am scared! I want it to be impressive and beautiful and a gift to those listening, because I love them, and I don't know if I can do it, given the amount of time I've put into it. David will be perfect: he'll be funny and dramatic and just right. If I keep thinking the way I am right now, I will be my usual prickly, imperfect, ball of nerves and doubt. Maybe that will make me play better. But maybe it will make me miserable, too. See? This is why I don't perform so much. Even though I not-so secretly love it.
Ah. I know it's not as big of a deal as I am making it out to be. But at the same time, it is.
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