Orchestra

I’ve been reminiscing recently about my life that never was- the glamorous life of a musician, Trombone, actually. Last night I was with a few old friends, two of which as musicians in the Army. One of them was telling us a hilarious story about the time he met Princes William and Harry at Hedley Court and it suddenly reminded me of an experience I had when playing in the college symphony orchestra a couple of years ago (it was one of the highlights of the whole academic year-and the one, and only time I ever got to be on the personnel list for symphony orchestra).

We were playing the Firebird Suite, by Stravinsky- I love it. It is probably one of my favourites. Consequently, I was terribly excited about it all, until I saw the part. There was just one bit, one tiny bit in the whole damn peice that was exposed and no matter how hard I practiced it I could not get it right!

Rehearsal after rehearsal I tried and I struggled, I struggled at home in the evenings, and I even took it to one of my lessons and struggled with it there. It just was not happening for me. As the concert drew ever closer, I started to panic a bit. The symphony orchestra is one of the most professional ensembles at my music school, and I was about to fuck it up. Jesus- what a retard!

The day of the concert dawned, and we had an afternoon rehearsal, with a very prolific conductor. Also present at the rehearsal was the principal, head of performance studies, head of postgraduate studies, and head of department for wind, brass and percussion. No pressure then.

In a moment of panic, I whispered to the third trombone player that I would pay him £10 and a minimum of two pints if he would play that small section for me. He agreed, on the grounds that if he did it, I would not even begin to attempt it or we would end up having a stopping and starting fiasco where both of us thought the other was going to do it, making us both look stupid. Done!

The section approached, and the third trombone player masterfully tackled it. Not a note out of place. At the end of the section, the conductor brings us to an unceremonious halt and looks confused.

He looked directly at me, “I heard it, and it was very lovely…but it wasn’t you, Stand up please.”

Fuck!

“No, erm…no. It wasn’t me, it was the third trombone”. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!

“Right, well- I hope you are paying him”, he barked.

“Yes. Yes I am. £10 and 2 pints.”

“Marvellous, very honest. Sit down”.

Phew!

Personally, I think it should have been viewed as a selfless act. I sacrificed my own integrity as a musician for the good of the show. After all, I could show up the school could I? Obviously, it was nothing to do with not wanting to embarrass myself on stage.

Later on after the concert (which was a fantastic success!) the conductor approached me and said, “Faith, whenever I conduct the Firebird Suite from now on, I’m always going to think of you”.

Awww! Nice to know I’ve made an impression on someone, even if not for quite the right reasons!