Open Writing

Here Comes Treble
By Isabel Bradley
274. Be Prepared.
Whenever possible, it is best to be fully prepared for any event. Being caught by surprise can be anything from vaguely embarrassing to acutely painful, on many levels.
One evening, when I was very nearly 9 months’ pregnant with my son, exhausted, uncomfortable and feeling the size of a house, I decided that I deserved an early night. Huffing and puffing, I lumbered up the very long passage, thankfully still dressed but wearing the ugliest, fluffiest slippers I have ever possessed, to say goodnight to my husband. The slippers were very comfortable… I walked into the lounge, to be greeted by about fifteen of the ladies from my husband’s office, all waiting to give me a ‘baby shower’. I wanted to crawl under the carpet, but as it was fitted wall-to-wall that wasn’t an option. In front of these almost-strangers, who I’d maybe met once or twice, I put on a brave face. I opened gifts of baby clothes, toiletries and nappies, listened to the office gossip and ate cake and drank tea. Surprise parties are invariably horrid.
Since then, whenever I can, like a good boy scout, I make sure I am prepared. If I’m to be the ‘target’ of a party, I at least like to know the when and where, who’s organising it and to be properly dressed. If I’m going to be entertaining, I like to have my menu set at least a week in advance and any dishes that can be ready in advance, waiting in line so that the minimum needs to be done at the last minute. I use recipes I’m accustomed to, and hopefully do most of the preparation in my own kitchen.
It’s the same with performing. The more I rehearse, the easier it is to stand on stage and enjoy making music in front of an audience. I play the flute, one of the wood-wind family of instruments which needs a lot of blowing. By the time I walk on-stage, I know exactly how much breath I need for each piece of music I’m going to play, what it feels like to hold the flute up, on and off, for an hour or more, what it takes to read my poems in between playing, how loudly I need to talk… During rehearsals, I often play each piece more than once, and likewise repeat poems and introductions several times. During a performance, all this repetition is reduced to the essence of the programme, making performing physically easier than rehearsing. I can relax, and so can the audience.
Wood-wind instrumentalists in an orchestra often have to wait between playing fairly short patches of music. They spend a lot of time counting bars while other instruments play, waiting for cues that don’t always happen where they should. Though a player may rehearse four or five times a week for two or three hours at a time within the orchestra, the stamina required is entirely different from that needed when playing a solo recital. Orchestral work requires patience and concentration, while sitting doing nothing for long periods, then being able to produce a good note, in tune, on a cold instrument. Orchestral players need to prepare the passages they play carefully and to know where they fit into the greater whole. They need to know how much breath they need for each bit played and again, they need to experience the length of the work and the entire programme, to become accustomed to the time and the amount of energy and concentration required.
It’s always good to be familiar with the venue of the performance, to know how much more, or less, breath one needs available to make oneself heard at the back of the theatre or room. Physical comfort is equally important, to ‘practice’ wearing performance clothes, ensuring one can move freely; and to perform in the shoes in which one has rehearsed, as a change in heel-height or toes being pinched unexpectedly can definitely affect balance and breathing and therefore the performance itself.
Ensuring that the instrument is in good working-order is also essential. Regular services are necessary on all woodwind and brass instruments, as a key jamming or a screw loosening in the middle of a performance can herald disaster.
Maybe I’m a control freak. I dish out Turkish Delight to my husband one square a day; pre-cook our meals so that I don’t have to rush around the kitchen at the end of the day.
My philosophy is that it is better to be prepared than caught by surprise, thus becoming fraught and frazzled. Even worse, heaven forbid, without preparation a sub-standard performance could be the result.
Until next time…. ‘here comes Treble!’
The End
783 Words © Copyright Reserved
16 October 2011 by Isabel Bradley