One Alleluia To Go

Performance anxiety (no, not that kind, although maybe that, too—I mean the kind you get when you have to play a musical instrument in public) is a hazard for all musicians, professional and amateur alike. I used to get it in spades when I was a kid. Now I mostly avoid it by only playing in an orchestra, where there’s usually so much other stuff going on that unless I really mess up big time no one notices.

I used to get performance anxiety even when I didn’t have a performance planned. My parents had friends over for dinner occasionally, and if things got a bit dull my dad would say, “Son, go get your violin.” I lived in dread of this every time we had guests because it almost invariably happened when I had not practiced for several days (this was more frequent than it should have been).

I would get so angry with Dad for doing this! Then, in my characteristically introspective and self-deprecating way I would think, “Well, Dummy, if you didn’t let so much time go by without practicing you’d be ready for him.” I had to admit that this was completely true, but did I change my slacker ways? Of course not.

Thinking back on it, he may have been trying to subtly encourage me to practice more regularly. He never prodded or pestered me, but he had his own way of hinting that you never know when you might be called upon to play something.

He was right, too. I remember once in college when my roommate, a music major, happened to notice my copy of a transcription for violin and piano of Vocalise, a composition for voice and piano by Rachmaninoff. I had played it in church once or twice, but not for a long time. In fact, I hadn’t played at all for a long time (I was a physics major; playing the violin was not in my curriculum). My roommate knew the piece but was surprised to see that it had been transcribed for violin. “Let’s go find a piano and try it out,” he said. “Oh, no!” I thought. Tragically, the only piano we could find was in the student lounge, which, shockingly, was full of students.

That didn’t bother him at all, but for me it was instant panic! The long time without practice, the lack of preparation for even the idea of playing, and the other students who certainly weren’t expecting some guy to wander in and start playing a violin, all added up to a case of nerves like I had never had before and have never had since. We played it, but my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t produce a smooth tone to save my soul. Roomie didn’t say anything, but he gave me a puzzled look and I’m sure he thought, “What’s wrong with this guy?” I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Oh—full disclosure—I did really mess up big time in an orchestra once. I was playing viola in a performance of Handel’s Messiah. Just before the end, everyone goes “Alleluia” about four times, then there’s a whole measure of dead silence, and then one final “Alleluia.” Well, this time it wasn't dead silence, because when everyone else came to that measure, I still had one Alleluia to go, and I played it! It probably wasn’t a coincidence that they never asked me to play again.