Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Thoughts on attentiveness

This morning, I was marking up the score of Brandenburg IV for the Mastersingers concerts this weekend. (I'm playing harpsichord for them.) The last time I played that piece was in graduate school. What's remarkable is how little I wrote in the score back then, so I've had a bit of work to do in order to get things ready for the concerts.

So, was I a better musician in graduate school? I obviously didn't write much in the score, so maybe I didn't need to? Am I'm writing a lot now because I'm getting worse?! I don't think so...

In truth, the more amateurish one is, the less attentive one is. My least experienced choral groups rarely take out pencils (if they even brought one) to make corrections or to mark something that the director is asking. My professional choir in Boston is extremely attentive; they mark everything, and they rarely make the same mistake twice.

It's a funny thing. You'd think that the pros wouldn't mark the scores because they're so good and that the amateurs would because they know they're not pros. But, for whatever reason, it doesn't work out that way.

I use the word attentive/attentiveness quite deliberately. This isn't just about getting it right; it's also about being aware of your surroundings in rehearsal and working with those around you.

Isn't this all a metaphor for life?

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