First Band Competition
I'm sitting in my office right now, on a Saturday afternoon. A few hours more and it would be our turn to play for the adjudicators at the 2nd National Band Competition at Victoria Concert Hall. This is the first time that this tertiary band is participating in a competition.
I recently realised that all of my students have most probably been through a band competition, so they would actually be more experienced than me. I remember feeling a bit helpless on a few occasions. It's like, as the so-called teacher-in-charge, I haven't really done much to prepare them. Did I miss out anything? But this feeling of incompetence is really the least of our concerns. I'm glad that they seem to be able to keep things together - the conductor, the committee, the SLs, the members, all doing their part as who they are, and with what they have - skills, time, life's priority. At these final hours, I wonder what's in their minds. I'll see them in a bit. Anyway, even if some of the new members might be 'competing against' their alma mater, I believe that the best respect we can give to the 'competitors' is to do one's best.
Having said that, I'm excited that we are finally ready, as a band, to even consider going for a competition. Last year we had our first concert without any guest players. Although both statements don't necessarily have much correlations, but if you know the history and the struggles, you'd understand how proud I am of the band at this stage. Yes, we still have the issues not uncommon to most groups, and some exclusive to its nature and culture, but what we have now is a privilege. You'll never get this 'now' again.
Through this journey over the past 4 batches since I took over the band again, the time spent from listening and observing my conductor and the more serious music-makers in my band, I've learnt that it doesn't matter whether we're competing, performing, or simply practising in the band studio, that it is basic respect to the music, the audience, and to oneself, that we take the learning process seriously, i.e. not haphazardly, with no deliberate effort to become better with every correction. I believe that true fun and enjoyment in what you're doing is only possible when you're very good with it. The level of enjoyment increases and deepens as we progress. Other than that, we're just fooling around.
Like singing, if is when you can pitch well, sing well, know your parts well, then you can enjoy performing to the audience, even if it's in the context of a competition. Otherwise, half the time you would be worried about reaching that note, you'd have nothing to express cos you're just mouthing words and hoping to 'get it over and done with'. Where's the enjoyment of bringing the message of the song to the audience? Might as well just remain singing in the shower?
Stage fright can be substantially reduced when you're prepared.
Anyway, whatever happens after today, whether we're going for more competitions in future, overseas projects, or back to just performing for concerts and outdoor events, today is today. It will never happen again. We'll never be participating in another 'first competition ever', with the exact group of people, with the exact pieces - the way it's played, the same mistakes made. Today, like any other day, will never come again.
Hmmm... perhaps that's how we should see our relationships with others. Dessert for thoughts...
I recently realised that all of my students have most probably been through a band competition, so they would actually be more experienced than me. I remember feeling a bit helpless on a few occasions. It's like, as the so-called teacher-in-charge, I haven't really done much to prepare them. Did I miss out anything? But this feeling of incompetence is really the least of our concerns. I'm glad that they seem to be able to keep things together - the conductor, the committee, the SLs, the members, all doing their part as who they are, and with what they have - skills, time, life's priority. At these final hours, I wonder what's in their minds. I'll see them in a bit. Anyway, even if some of the new members might be 'competing against' their alma mater, I believe that the best respect we can give to the 'competitors' is to do one's best.
Having said that, I'm excited that we are finally ready, as a band, to even consider going for a competition. Last year we had our first concert without any guest players. Although both statements don't necessarily have much correlations, but if you know the history and the struggles, you'd understand how proud I am of the band at this stage. Yes, we still have the issues not uncommon to most groups, and some exclusive to its nature and culture, but what we have now is a privilege. You'll never get this 'now' again.
Through this journey over the past 4 batches since I took over the band again, the time spent from listening and observing my conductor and the more serious music-makers in my band, I've learnt that it doesn't matter whether we're competing, performing, or simply practising in the band studio, that it is basic respect to the music, the audience, and to oneself, that we take the learning process seriously, i.e. not haphazardly, with no deliberate effort to become better with every correction. I believe that true fun and enjoyment in what you're doing is only possible when you're very good with it. The level of enjoyment increases and deepens as we progress. Other than that, we're just fooling around.
Like singing, if is when you can pitch well, sing well, know your parts well, then you can enjoy performing to the audience, even if it's in the context of a competition. Otherwise, half the time you would be worried about reaching that note, you'd have nothing to express cos you're just mouthing words and hoping to 'get it over and done with'. Where's the enjoyment of bringing the message of the song to the audience? Might as well just remain singing in the shower?
Stage fright can be substantially reduced when you're prepared.
Anyway, whatever happens after today, whether we're going for more competitions in future, overseas projects, or back to just performing for concerts and outdoor events, today is today. It will never happen again. We'll never be participating in another 'first competition ever', with the exact group of people, with the exact pieces - the way it's played, the same mistakes made. Today, like any other day, will never come again.
Hmmm... perhaps that's how we should see our relationships with others. Dessert for thoughts...
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