OHIO WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY -- PART III
(be sure to read part I and II first!)
++++++++++ 8:54 AM ++++++++++
Up and at-em! After throwing up from jangled nerves, I launch into my pre-concert ritual – keeping myself as physically busy and as mentally pre-occupied as humanly possible until I’m onstage. This particular morning primarily involves going through my grandmother’s kitchen cabinets to coerce her into throwing out all the food that has past it’s expiration date by more then 2 years – her waste-not-want-not, prohibition-era-mindset can make this a challenging task. The search-and-discard mission keeps me busy for several hours, and every can of vintage Vienna sausages that goes into the garbage can is replaced with a fresh hope that my grandmother will still be around next time I have the chance to visit at Thanksgiving. I shower, do some slow practicing (making sure to refill the memory potholes from yesterday’s rehearsal), and before I know it, it’s time to head to Delaware.
++++++++++ 12:24 PM ++++++++++
It doesn’t rain, but we do miss the turn… again.
++++++++++ 1:00 PM ++++++++++
The band rehearses, and I keep myself busy setting up, double-checking my equipment, tuning up both guitars (there’ll be one at the side of the stage, in case I break a string in mid-performance) and pacing about nervously. We check a couple of spots in “Chaos Theory”, but our rehearsal yesterday was very thorough and everyone feels good about it. Now it’s time to wait…
I go downstairs to the bathroom to change. My new shirt fits quite well, but I’m still not so sure about my hasty selection… the shirt is bright blue, and a little on the shiny side, and I wonder if I’d look better swinging from a trapeze at the circus than playing the electric guitar onstage… I run into Bryan, the first clarinetist, and I compliment his solo in one of the other pieces they’d rehearsed. Bryan tells me he really likes the high parts I’ve written for the clarinets, and I’m again relieved to be accepted by another musician.
The audience begins filing in, and attendance looks good…
++++++++++ 3:15 PM ++++++++++
The concert starts with a circus-style march that sets the tone for the entire concert – high energy. I’ve chosen to listen to the concert from the hallway – I’ve decided its a lot better location for pacing than the aisle of the concert hall. Through the stage door, I can hear Milt creating a great rapport with the audience, as he describes each musical selection before the band performs it. I realize that I’m supposed to say something to the audience before “Reflections in a Tidal Pool”, and I have no idea what I’m going to talk about. Before I know it, I’ve been introduced, come out onstage, said something that involved a lot of hand gestures, and am standing backstage again. I remember that “Reflections…” is only about 2 minutes long, and next is “Chaos Theory”, and I curse myself for not making “Reflections…” a much, much longer piece. I strap on my guitar and suddenly remember the immortal words of David Leisner, one of my favorite guitar teachers:
“Pick one single thing during this performance that you’re going to focus on.”
I decide very quickly what my singular focus will be: don’t bugger up the solo cadenza.
The performance goes well – the band plays great and even manages to stay with me when, in a fit of foolish excitement, I suddenly push the tempo waaaaay faster in the first movement. And the cadenza comes off OK – near the end I even hear a woman in the audience let out a loud “whoo!”. I wait for some sort of feminine undergarment to come sailing up onstage (any shape or size would’ve made me happy), but no such luck – I was good, but not that good. In the end, the band receives a standing ovation for an excellent performance, and I've gotten to rock out with a roomful of new friends.
++++++++++ 4:49 PM ++++++++++
There were other things that happened that night – the warm congratulatory exchanges with the other musicians and audience members; the caravan back to Polaris for dinner with Dr.Gamso, Milt, Nicki, and Grandma (at the ubiquitous suburban Olive Garden); the drive back to Bucyrus; then onto Chicago, drop our stuff off, clean out Carla’s car, take the dogs for a walk – not to mention giving Nicki the first real, long, present embrace in several days – and finally crawling into bed at 2:30 AM, very doubtful I’ll awake the next morning bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready for work the next morning… but I think the story of this road-trip must end with one simple, unexaggerated, yet remarkable fact:
We never missed any turns on the way home.
(Sincerest thanks to Joey (POP-U-LA-TION-YOU!), Allison, Brenna, Zach, OSU Joe, Derek, Justin (“think Bonham”), Annie, Bryan, Seth, Corey, Emily, Nathan (the world’s loudest ‘cellist), Heidi, Matt (thanks again for the amp, dude!), and all the other members of the band whose names didn’t deserve the terrible fate of having fallen through the cracks in my noggin – and a very special thanks to Dr. Nancy Gamso, Carla (for the sweet chariot), Milt Allen (my newest old friend), Nicki (my getaway driver/second opinion/reality check/super-awesome girlfriend), and of course, Grandma – for a most excellent weekend.)
++++++++++ 8:54 AM ++++++++++
Up and at-em! After throwing up from jangled nerves, I launch into my pre-concert ritual – keeping myself as physically busy and as mentally pre-occupied as humanly possible until I’m onstage. This particular morning primarily involves going through my grandmother’s kitchen cabinets to coerce her into throwing out all the food that has past it’s expiration date by more then 2 years – her waste-not-want-not, prohibition-era-mindset can make this a challenging task. The search-and-discard mission keeps me busy for several hours, and every can of vintage Vienna sausages that goes into the garbage can is replaced with a fresh hope that my grandmother will still be around next time I have the chance to visit at Thanksgiving. I shower, do some slow practicing (making sure to refill the memory potholes from yesterday’s rehearsal), and before I know it, it’s time to head to Delaware.
++++++++++ 12:24 PM ++++++++++
It doesn’t rain, but we do miss the turn… again.
++++++++++ 1:00 PM ++++++++++
The band rehearses, and I keep myself busy setting up, double-checking my equipment, tuning up both guitars (there’ll be one at the side of the stage, in case I break a string in mid-performance) and pacing about nervously. We check a couple of spots in “Chaos Theory”, but our rehearsal yesterday was very thorough and everyone feels good about it. Now it’s time to wait…
I go downstairs to the bathroom to change. My new shirt fits quite well, but I’m still not so sure about my hasty selection… the shirt is bright blue, and a little on the shiny side, and I wonder if I’d look better swinging from a trapeze at the circus than playing the electric guitar onstage… I run into Bryan, the first clarinetist, and I compliment his solo in one of the other pieces they’d rehearsed. Bryan tells me he really likes the high parts I’ve written for the clarinets, and I’m again relieved to be accepted by another musician.
The audience begins filing in, and attendance looks good…
++++++++++ 3:15 PM ++++++++++
The concert starts with a circus-style march that sets the tone for the entire concert – high energy. I’ve chosen to listen to the concert from the hallway – I’ve decided its a lot better location for pacing than the aisle of the concert hall. Through the stage door, I can hear Milt creating a great rapport with the audience, as he describes each musical selection before the band performs it. I realize that I’m supposed to say something to the audience before “Reflections in a Tidal Pool”, and I have no idea what I’m going to talk about. Before I know it, I’ve been introduced, come out onstage, said something that involved a lot of hand gestures, and am standing backstage again. I remember that “Reflections…” is only about 2 minutes long, and next is “Chaos Theory”, and I curse myself for not making “Reflections…” a much, much longer piece. I strap on my guitar and suddenly remember the immortal words of David Leisner, one of my favorite guitar teachers:
“Pick one single thing during this performance that you’re going to focus on.”
I decide very quickly what my singular focus will be: don’t bugger up the solo cadenza.
The performance goes well – the band plays great and even manages to stay with me when, in a fit of foolish excitement, I suddenly push the tempo waaaaay faster in the first movement. And the cadenza comes off OK – near the end I even hear a woman in the audience let out a loud “whoo!”. I wait for some sort of feminine undergarment to come sailing up onstage (any shape or size would’ve made me happy), but no such luck – I was good, but not that good. In the end, the band receives a standing ovation for an excellent performance, and I've gotten to rock out with a roomful of new friends.
++++++++++ 4:49 PM ++++++++++
There were other things that happened that night – the warm congratulatory exchanges with the other musicians and audience members; the caravan back to Polaris for dinner with Dr.Gamso, Milt, Nicki, and Grandma (at the ubiquitous suburban Olive Garden); the drive back to Bucyrus; then onto Chicago, drop our stuff off, clean out Carla’s car, take the dogs for a walk – not to mention giving Nicki the first real, long, present embrace in several days – and finally crawling into bed at 2:30 AM, very doubtful I’ll awake the next morning bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready for work the next morning… but I think the story of this road-trip must end with one simple, unexaggerated, yet remarkable fact:
We never missed any turns on the way home.
(Sincerest thanks to Joey (POP-U-LA-TION-YOU!), Allison, Brenna, Zach, OSU Joe, Derek, Justin (“think Bonham”), Annie, Bryan, Seth, Corey, Emily, Nathan (the world’s loudest ‘cellist), Heidi, Matt (thanks again for the amp, dude!), and all the other members of the band whose names didn’t deserve the terrible fate of having fallen through the cracks in my noggin – and a very special thanks to Dr. Nancy Gamso, Carla (for the sweet chariot), Milt Allen (my newest old friend), Nicki (my getaway driver/second opinion/reality check/super-awesome girlfriend), and of course, Grandma – for a most excellent weekend.)
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