This
is a guest blog by the less than legendary, Louis C. Monteverdi
As a pianist performing regularly in front of live audiences
(well, at least they claim to be), I still struggle with hand jitters, wrong
notes, inaccurate rhythms and sudden sonorities of unknown origin.
While I know of no real remedies or telethon-type activities
related to alleviating this aggravating affliction of unaccountable nerves, I
can offer the following five tips in the hope that they may prove useful in
times of classical piano’s annoying nuances.
TIP #1: Come Early Before the performance
Avoid increasing your stress
level by leaving sufficient time for a preparatory period of relaxation. Relax,
compose your thoughts and slowly exercise your fingers with unrelated abstract,
technical studies till you have achieved a certain comfortable level of digital
dexterity.
TIP #2: Completely Ignore Tip #1
Don’t come early, fool! That will only make you even more uptight by
creating a misguided sense of importance about the whole stuffy business. Better
to come a little late. Have a couple of smokes, a couple of beers. Too bad, if people get pissed off and decide
to leave because it’s already 8:15PM.
Screw ‘em! Keep repeating to yourself
“Screw ‘em. It’s just not that important”.
Relax; the whole thing’s just this side of being a complete waste of everybody’s
time.
TIP #3: Disrespect the Composer. Does he think he’s better than you!!?
Screw Beethoven, the ugly
son-of-a-bitch. Clearly, the guy was never successful enough to afford a facial
or get a decent haircut. What’s that, lady,
I was hitting wrong notes? What do you
expect, the guy was frickin’ deaf when he wrote this damn thing! Give me a break!
TIP #4: Make Sure the Piano is in an acceptable State of Disrepair
Sure I’m nervous. Wouldn’t you be if you had to perform on this
reject from a down-market Salvation Army post? I mean, I might have warmed up, but I ran out
of time while I was Gorilla Gluing all
the broken keys back on, for cryin’ out loud!
TIP #5 Just Go Play Cocktail Piano
Find a restaurant with a big room
full of noisy people whose voices bounce off a carpet-less, slate floor, utterly
drowning out the sound of your dwarf baby-grand with zero amplification. All
that’s missing is a black cape and hood - and a Lone Ranger mask. Then you can be nervous all you want.
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