My First Solo

There are only a few moments in life when your thoughts, feelings, experiences from a specific event impact the path you follow moving forward. Looking back at my brief musical career hitherto, an inflection point, for me, when my relationship with music performance first developed, was when I performed my first solo.

At the time, I was in seventh grade and I had only been playing percussion for about a year. My middle school band teacher encouraged me to sign up for a musical showcase that was being put together by the school for the upcoming winter fair, and she gave me a gentle love shove when she wrote my name of the sign-up sheet after I had previously declined her invitation. It was set; I was to play The First Noel on my bell set at the winter fair. Knowing that the event was a month away, and that I had time until then, I reluctantly went ahead with the plan.

That one month turned into two weeks, and those two weeks turned into two days, and, well, I still had not taken a look at the piece. In a mad scramble to not embarrass myself in front my teacher and the imminent crowd that awaited at the fair, I galvanized my practice efforts in preparation for my performance.

What got me that day which I had not anticipated was not my lack of preparation, but my nerves. I was nervous while getting ready, I was nervous on the car ride to the school, I was nervous while setting up my instrument, and the worst of it came when I was waiting for my turn to play. As I was walking up to the podium, my legs were shaking like the walls of an auditorium during the roaring thunder of a full timpani roll, my hands were sweating profusely from the death grip I held on my mallets, and my inner trepidations led me to think I was doomed to sink on a ship that I was the captain of.

The performance has since left my memory, all my performances do, but I remember two things: I had nailed the solo and I had fun while doing so.

I only fully realized years afterwards the implications that that performance had on my career moving forward. My nerves will never go away in preparation of or during a performance, but after my first solo, I realized I could use my nerves to push myself to succeed. I also realized, for the first time, my abilities and capabilities as an individual performer and the importance of equanimity during a performance

I realized that my band teacher was not attempting to humiliate me in any way or trying the fill up the sign-up sheet, but that she was the first person to truly see my potential and that she was pushing me out of my comfort zone in an effort to have me confront my purpose with music. Music has been a foundation in my life since then and I am immensely grateful for the role she played in getting me here.

Most importantly, I realized my love of music, my love of performing, that music is a place of peace for me to go to, and the path it appears I am suited to take heading forward. Although my first solo may not seem impressive to some, it was my first hill to climb as a musician, and after I reached the top, I saw for the first-time the beautiful mountain in the horizon, and its peak will be my journey.