#deepfathom

On the day I was competing in a piano festival, I did not play through the entire piece the day of the event. I would do one run-through the night before, and if that run-through was perfect without any dumb mistakes, I would quit playing. (If there were dumb mistakes, I’d play it through until there weren’t, so I could quit with confidence at my solid playing). I’d do a few spot-checks in the morning and in the practice room before my performance, but I wouldn’t play the entire piece. The reason? Let’s say I did a really stupid error in the practice room before the event. Let’s say I forgot something in that practice room fifteen minutes before the competition. That makes it easy to get psyched out and really nervous about messing up on that same part again the time it counts. But if I don’t put myself in that situation of pressure, especially making sure that the last play-through I do do is solid… then I don’t have to worry about “great here is the one part that I forgot about last time shoot shoot shoot WHAT WERE THE NOTES AGAIN???!!!” There is something to be said about not over-practicing and not putting yourself in a position of doubt on the day of the performance.

Strangely, before big auditions, I’d do a bit of the opposite and run through everything once or twice before going into the audition room. I don’t know how to explain the difference. I think it’s because audition pieces tend to be very short and to the point… not the long, complicated, memorized affairs that occur in festivals and stage performances. Audition pieces are technical, so I’d want to push myself up back to peak technicality before the audition final. So for auditions, giving myself a good run-through the minute before I walk into the audition room makes my body ready to play the same thing again just as well.

Maintaining my hands/instrument in peak-ready shape to perform. I have very small, thin hands that look more like skeleton bones than something that belongs on a living human. As a result, my fingers can get cold/hot/sweaty/frozen/stiff in about two seconds. Stretching my fingers and keeping them the proper temperature was essential (and, honestly, sometimes a bit of a battle). I always was good at fast music, too, haha, and used that to my advantage in performance, which meant things couldn’t be AT ALL out of place. Keeping my hands ready allowed me to not overthink my upcoming performance, and just focus on keeping my body limber for what I was going to play. With instruments like flute, I would make sure that the instrument did not grow cold by puffing some air into it periodically.

Being prepared. Nothing like preparation, and being able to play the piece consistently well, to assure myself I’d do just as fine on the day of the performance. If I’ve played it very well the last thirty times I’ve played it, then I should be good for my thirty-first. (Of course we can’t always be amazingly prepared, but as much as we can prepare, it does wonders for the nerves).

If I ever had any doubt about performing the piece, I’d sit down and glance through the music - not playing it, but looking at it - as I waited for my turn to play.

Keep yourself occupied with something else as much as possible. If you’re able to talk to people before a performance, honestly, do that instead of playing too much. Warm up, do a few scales, touch the technical stuff, make sure you’re good to go, and then stop and distract yourself until it’s time to go. It prevents your mind from thinking about the upcoming performance, and consequently makes getting on stage less of a big deal.

Try not to listen to the people competing/auditioning right before me. Most of my nerves would occur if I heard someone else playing a piece WAY BETTER THAN ME *right* before my audition. Block them out. The only person you hear is you, and you sound AMAZING.

Don’t look at the audience. I have this ability to look at things in front of me without looking at them. As in, the information doesn’t register much consciously. So I waltz up, do a bow, but don’t consciously register the people in the audience. I’ll admit that I’m not nervous when I see people in the crowd… *sigh* …I am a blatant show-off… but knowing how to keep a psychological distance of not registering the audience is there can help. If you could do that too…?

Let the music carry you. Enjoy the piece - that’s why you play music. Dive into the musical river of dynamics and crescendos and decrescendos and all the instruments playing around you… and ahhhh… it feels good, doesn’t it? <3 <3 <3 Oh wait, people are clapping? Oh, right, I guess there are people here.

Learn good acting. Half of a performance is not showing the audience you messed up. If you can put showwomanship into a piece through gesture, motion, facial expressions, or whatever is appropriate, then audiences will buy it. I’ve totally improvised in the middle of piano duos or ridiculous things like that, but because I maintained a completely professional facial expression while playing, and then grinned broadly at the end of the piece, the audience bought it and had no idea that Beethoven did NOT write his music like that AT ALL. And once you get to the point you realize that most audience members really are that clueless, it takes a LOT of pressure off being perfect. Meh. Messed up. Whatever. No one cares. Keep playing.

Before you begin playing, sit down, look at the instrument, look at the music (if it’s not memorized), breathe, soak in the music, think about the tempo, think about the dynamics, think about the first few notes. Slowly bring your body into position. Then play. Don’t rush, but get yourself ready with just two extra seconds. It makes a huge difference.

Experience. I think that, for a lot of people, the more you do it, the more comfortable you get. The nerves might not die, but they get better managed and control you less.

I have no idea if that helps you, though! Good performance often is a game of psychology and getting yourself so chill that nothing can phase you. That you really don’t care at all about what happens in the performance. Once I learned not to care what happened, it meant it was harder for me to get nervous… because who cares at that point? I know it’s easier said than done in some circumstances than others (and for some people moreso than others), but I think that these tactics have helped me keep it cool as I’ve gone into increasingly “high stakes” events (before losing the opportunity to participate in them).