I really can understand why some creatures eat their young. Honestly.
I've spent the better part of this week recording and editing one of my students' recital projects for a class at school. I can honestly tell you after this long slog that no one should ever have their high school music prowess recorded for posterity.
First of all, it's a veritable certainty that the freak-out factor is going to make you sound like at least a fraction of an ass. Apparently when the mic goes on we revert to some caveman-like state of being where a large portion of whatever refinement we've been striving for goes right out the window. Zip, boom, bonjour.
Second, seriously-- is anyone ever going to seriously listen to this shit? Good Lord, I hope not. I recently dug up a few recordings of me playing back then (you have to remember, I'm twelve years removed from this at this point) and I REALLY needed a beer after hearing all of that. I think it may be something better left alone.
Sure, I know it's necessary, it's for a grade or an audition spot or whatever, but for the love, who needs that kind of mental and emotional flagellation?
Now I know the horrors that my music teacher went through trying to listen to all of us while recording our audition tapes. I know how far this or that kid has come since starting with me, but the judges of this tape have nothing to compare her to except Jeanne Baxstresser. So I sit there wanting to tear my hair out when she loses her composure and craps all over her performance. Again. Take 37 please. This time, count. Don't sneeze in the rests. Stop sighing when you miss something. It's F-sharp, not F-natural. Breathe. It'll be okay.
Praise the Lord and pass the beer, it's over for now. I just hope she gets an A. I don't get paid enough for this.
