Am I being a diva?

My orchestra conductor, Michael Bohnert-Wheatley (aka The Conductor), also writes a blog, mostly about music. It just so happens that we read each other's blogs before we ever met in person. (I'll add a link to his blog on my home page, so you can check it out) Anyway, not too long ago, he posted an unabashedly unapologetic piece about his being picky, or demanding, in rehearsals with his orchestra. I took this post into account tonight when I decided to call him up and match him, picky for picky.

I am loathe to sound like a diva, I explained, but I have some ideas about how to make one very small part of our next performance better. I debated with my carpool on the way home from rehearsal whether or not I had legitimate criticism to share, and whether it would be well received. So there I am, soon after arriving home, on the phone, late at night, being all high maintenance with The Conductor, right after he's just spent two hours sweating it out on the podium, trying to help us play this piece better. But I am pretty sure (from reading his blog) that he won't mind my kvetching too terribly much because he is the same way. And as much as I find I care about this particular musical passage in our upcoming concert, I know he probably cares every bit as much as I do.

But you see, here's the thing. The reason that I care so very much, enough to call him up, is that I've got this violin solo, right at the spot in question. Yeah. So, right there, it's all about me. So, placing a call to The Conductor about this passage feels akin to demanding enough Evian from room service to fill my bathtub. But what can I do? It's bordering on obsession at this point, me and this solo.

It's a pretty well known violin solo in orchestral repetoire. In the 2nd movement of Dvorak's 8th Symphony. My professional violinist friends all have opinions about it. Some hate it; most seem to love it. I've been very busy these past few weeks investigating why this is. I started out thinking that I might hate the solo, too, because of the awful way it sounds just like a car crash, complete with horns blaring, when played poorly. But I have this teeny streak of perfectionism, so I have been working pretty hard on mastering it. So much so that, since I got the solo, I really have had no time to blog. Have you missed me? I've missed you, too.

But tonight, I feel I have earned a break, and I'm taking a moment to unwind after tonight's rehearsal by kicking back and just typing for a while...about my solo.

The good news is manifold: my solo keeps on getting better, and the performance is still not for another three weeks. The Conductor said that tonight was the best I have ever played it. But what he doesn't know (what I just told him) is that I can play it SO MUCH BETTER THAN THAT. The thing is, I have fallen in love with what this solo can be. It can be so very beautiful. And I have worked long enough and hard enough to have cracked the code, to feel like I have gotten inside the solo, so that I really understand it, and can actually play it beautifully, and I REALLY, REALLY want to play it that way in the concert.

Plus, earlier today I found out that my in-laws are coming in from Philadelphia for the weekend of the concert. It's what we call a Trifecta Weekend: Max is in a show and Sam is turning ten. I love my in-laws, and they have never seen or heard me perform before. Which is weird, and not at all their fault, but there it is. So, that's yet another reason I want to do my very best.

CAUTION: EXTENDED METAPHOR BELOW Please fasten your seatbelts EXTENDED METAPHOR BELOW

I have come up with a metaphor that helps me play the solo realy well, when I can keep it in mind as I am playing. I think about shoveling clouds. A heavenly job, if ever there was one, don't you agree?

As anyone who has tried to lift even the smallest cloud knows, they are extremely heavy. At the same time, they are also really soft and fluffy. So, there is only one way to shovel them well: very gently, but with strength, balance, and control.

You can't shovel clouds quickly. No matter how much you practice cloud shoveling, some bits of cloud are going to fall off the shovel, every time, if you rush it. We just can't have that.

The other thing is that you need to shovel clouds softly. If someone nearby is making too much noise, such as the WIND(s) BLOWING TOO HARD, then parts of the cloud are going to get away from you. Those bits of cloud will be lost forever.

So, I told the Conductor about the cloud shoveling, and now, he knows more of what I know, and I feel a bit better. I think that next time we all get together, when we get to rehearsal D, (yes, as in Diva) we are going to turn down the wind a notch and take it more slowly. And hopefully, I'll be able to shovel the clouds during our concert with all the strength and grace I have when I shovel clouds here at home, in my living room.