Pre-recital thoughts

I am performing for the first time in literally years this afternoon. I am feeling weirdly low-key about the whole thing. Here's the story:

About two month ago (seems like longer), I decided to start with voice training. The idea was that I really wanted to start performing again and since tap, much as I love it, was beginning to hurt and to not head toward anything like that, voice seemed the next way to go. Felt like a more natural fit even though I adore tap. And I'll go back to tap when I'm a little more physically fit; I'm not done there. But in the meanwhile, singing is a thing I love. I found a voice coach, a teacher I really like.

Liz asked me where my vocal strength was: I said chest voice. She said, OK, we should even things out, so let's start working on your head voice, which made perfect sense. So today's performance will be way up high for me--"Before I Gaze at You Again" from CAMELOT. (I want to note that I did not choose this song; my teacher did. I'm not especially fond of it, and it has some resonance in my personal life that I'm not entirely comfortable with, but it does what we needed it to do in terms of skill building. Next time, a different song for sure.)

I'm trying to see this performance as a demonstration of what I've accomplished so far rather than as a demonstration of what a gifted singer or performer I am, because the lessons have really been more about the former than the latter. It won't be the kind of sassy, dynamic thing I'd prefer to do. It's really about showing how I've stretched myself and where I go next. My teacher and I have talked about what's next for me, and I have a sense of where I'm going, so that feels good.

I will be the oldest person on the program today. I've seen some of the other students: middle-school aged girls, a college-aged guy. My coach says I'm her second-oldest student and she loves that I'm doing this. I'm trying not to feel self-conscious about it, but I can't help that a bit.

I need to go shower and medicate and hydrate. I may need to sleep a little more; I'm feeling sleepy and sluggish even though I slept like a rock last night. I am looking forward to this with, I admit, some trepidation. I want to do well. I want the time my friends spend coming to see me be worth it for them. And I want to enjoy it. If I do my best, then I will.

That wasn't what I expected

So, the recital. I spent the morning preparing: warming up, practicing, napping, showering, dressing, doing makeup, practicing, sounding good, going over to the venue. More warming up outside. In the allergens.

Many friends came--one friend said that my entourage was fully a quarter of the audience, which is entirely possible. I love my people with a giant, overwhelming love. My song was scheduled at the exact middle of the hour.

I hadn't seen any of the other students but one before, so it was a treat to see all the other people that my coach works with: everything from pre-teens to a retiree (who was, in fact, older than me). The kids were, predictably, adorable. The older gentleman was terrific. We adults in the middle were more of a mixed bag: some clear beginners and a couple of very good ones.

My song landed in the exact middle of the program. I started to sing. Everything felt and sounded wrong: chesty, froggy, awful. I got two thirds of the way through my song and asked the pianist to stop. I asked him if he was playing it lower than we practiced. My coach said that, no, it was right where we always sang it. My teacher reassured me that was true. I asked if we could start again.

And then, I don't remember a thing. I don't remember singing the song a second time, though I know I did. I don't remember leaving the stage. The next thing I remember, I was standing next to my teacher telling her I hoped I hadn't panicked her.

I watched the rest of the program, chatted with friends and the other students afterwards. Went to lunch with my friend LS. Came home.

Had dinner out tonight with friends. I still don't remember a damn thing about the second part of my performance. My friends were kind enough to say that the second time was great. I have absolutely no memory of it. In all of my experience in front of people, this has never happened. Not once. I am always preternaturally self-aware in front of people. This was unprecedented. I have to take people at their word that I was good. It's a hard leap of faith for me. But I did it. On to the next thing.