Piano Recital

So, can I tell you about the worst piano recital ever? I had to play three songs and scales in front of a judge. I have been kind of a slacker on the scales because I hate to practice them, but I had worked hard on them for two weeks prior to the recital. I was totally confident about the songs, though. I played them for months and months. My husband was threatening to cut off his ears or my fingers he had heard them so much. I could play them blindfolded.

The judge was a very artsy musician who told me all about her doctorate in music and how she plays in a group band every night. I was a little intimidated. After she got through with her credentials she said, “Let’s see what you can do.” That’s when my hands started shaking.

I nervously began to play the scales that I had tentatively memorized. I made it through the first two just fine, but when I went to play the third one I completely blanked. I tried again- still did not get it. I looked over at the judge. She did not appear to be amused. She said, “Forget it- just move on to your song.” I started playing my song, but my terrified brain had switched to autopilot and my fingers just refused to play the right notes. I missed one note. Then another. I knew my poor teacher was just outside the door, cringing at every mistake. I messed up the next transition. What was happening? I could play this song in my sleep! I played it perfectly 30 minutes ago!

I missed another note and my Russian teacher could keep silent no more. She burst into the room crying “B flat! B flat!” At that point I had no more delusions. I knew I was a goner. I limped through the rest of the songs, occasionally hitting a correct note. It was awful. By the third song, I just wanted to be done as quickly as possible so I could go home and try to scrub the memory from my brain.

When it was finally over the judge looked at me like I had just strangled a cat in front of her and called it a sonatina. My teacher looked like I had insulted all of Russia with my horrendous piano “music”. As I was leaving, the next student waiting to take the test, a little Asian girl maybe 6 years old, said, “I played that song last year. I didn’t make any mistakes.” I wanted to say, “well, good for you, shrimpy, at least I can drive!” But I didn’t.

It was not a good day for my ego.