Returning to the Stage: My Experience Performing Again after a Year of Cancelled Concerts.
As of February 22, 2021, nearly 12 months had passed since my last public performance. Like all collective trauma events throughout history, most of us remember exactly what we were doing on the day that the country, and in many respects the whole world, shut down. I was with my fellow Alabama Symphony Orchestra colleagues, rehearsing for performances of Segei Prokofiev’s ballet Romeo and Juliet, truly relishing the idea of getting to perform this incredible work in it’s complete form. If any of us had guessed that it would take this long to get back to our art form, we wouldn’t have believed it. And if we had, we would have been crushed by the knowledge of this unsettling reality.
The pandemic presented many complicated problems to solve for the performing arts. Among the most complicated, was the specific challenges of including wind players on the stage. Little was known about the way the aerosols spread and traveled while playing these instruments, and some instruments appeared to be more threatening than others. Meanwhile, disturbing stories began popping up in the news of debilitating and prolonged respiratory complications for certain individuals recovering from Covid-19; many of us wind players began to imagine what this might do to our careers if we were to suffer such a fate.
As a result, it wasn’t until this final week in February that I was able to join with four of my colleagues to rehearse and perform music again. Many times I had imagined what it would be like to get back these first baby steps towards normalcy for orchestra life, but all that mental rehearsal failed to prepare me for all the emotions that would come up in the weeks preceding and following this experience. Like all of us in the performing industry, it occurred to me that I had been performing regularly back to my pre-teen years. Some of my string player friends started learning so young that they don’t remember life without an instrument to practice! Throw us all into a year without live performance, and all the emotional baggage we managed to accumulate over that time seems logical -- predictable even.
The repertoire for the concert (to be pre-recorded and later streamed) was solidified just shy of a month ahead of the performance dates. Mozart’s beautiful and timeless Quintet for Clarinet and Strings, and Francis Poulenc’s quirky and playful Sonata for Two Clarinets fit the bill for creative programming while adhering to a tricky web of Covid-19 safety protocols. As I eagerly got to work on learning this repertoire, the first thing I became aware of was how hungry I was for this specific kind of effort; the breaking down of a large work into manageable sections and phrases, making the hundreds of small decisions that would need to be thoughtfully placed back into the whole. Imagining the sounds and harmonies that would be created by the other instruments as I work on my own part, enriched through careful study and listening to great recordings. Even the inevitable frustration of a less-than-great practice session felt welcome -- like a grouchy but beloved older relative coming over for a long overdue visit.
The second noticeable effect this pending performance caused, was periodic waves of insecurity and anxiety. One benefit of a full season orchestra schedule provides for those of us that are prone to bouts of stage fright, is a constant opportunity to perform, giving us plenty of practice and exposure to the thing we fear. For me, confidence is built through the regularity of doing it -- a constant reminder that I can, because I am doing it. I found myself grappling with all kinds of barely rational questions: What if I had no longer had the endurance to get through the program? What if I sound totally different (i.e. worse) in a space that is not my small studio? What if I didn’t remember how to play with others? Most of these fears were put to rest when I heard those first harmonious tones, of bows on strings choreographed in their movement, making music. The joy, beauty, and comforting familiarity of it quelled my fears, and an intense feeling of gratitude replaced them. Any rising doubts as to why I had ever chosen to become a performer in the first place vanished, and in an instant I was all in, heart, body, and mind.
I think it’s important to emphasize that my work on the clarinet never ceased during this long stretch. Like athletes, musicians can’t afford to let their skills slip if they intend to return to the stage. Most of us are keenly aware that the amount of time we take away from our instruments represents a fraction of the time needed to make our way back to the same place. So I forged on, dutifully getting my clarinet out every day, diligently playing my scales and practicing etudes, usually to the same four walls and (literal) captive listeners. But playing in a studio, or dining room, no matter how lovely the aesthetic or how enthusiastic and supportive our family or pets, is not the same as playing for an audience.
This is perhaps the most important thing that I learned through this process and the preceding months of the pandemic -- just how fundamental the relationship between performer and audience is to making music. The proverb of the tree falling in the woods became an apt analogy for the existential crisis many of us found ourselves in: Could we still call ourselves musicians if we had no audience to play for? I have come to believe that music can be many things and serve many purposes, but one of its most primal and urgent roles is that of communication. In times of collective strife and suffering, music’s unique communicative power can be a healing salve. It can transcend barriers discourse cannot, and can be a reminder of the humanity we all share. In many ways the Covid-19 pandemic left us without this all-important community ritual to shelter in, at a time when it would have been incredibly helpful.
Fortunately for all of us, the music is returning, slowly but surely. I am happy to share with all of you that this performance, along with Felix Mendelssohn’s Sinfonia No. 3, is streaming for free on Alabama Symphony Orchestra’s website through April 4th, 2021. You can watch and listen here:
https://alabamasymphony.org/event/mozarts-clarinet-quintet
For program notes, visit: https://www.kathleenbcostello.com/events-1
Thanks for reading, and enjoy the music!