Connectivity and Awareness

During the height of the shutdown nearly four years ago, I listened to Leslie Odom’s book, Failing Up, on Audible. Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton had recently dropped on Netflix, and I was enamored with all aspects of the production, particularly Odom’s character, Aaron Burr. Failing Up details Odom’s rise to prominence on Broadway from his teenage years and how he discovered his love of musical theater when being introduced to the music from Jonathan Larson’s Rent.

Early in the book, Odom describes seeing Rent live for the first time. From the first row, Odom observed two characters get set on stage before the beginning of the second act and how they shared a brief moment together through a wink and smile. For Odom, this represented a connection that went beyond the performance. It was a split second in time that told a story of friendship and shed light on the perpetuity of making art that transcends what we, as an audience, see on stage. Of course, being an artist is about the work we do in private and the hours of tedious craftsmanship it takes to bring our ideas to life when it matters, but it’s also about the connections we foster with those with whom we share the stage and the process.

Last night, I had the pleasure of playing a very small part in a friend’s DMA Chamber Recital by playing alto trombone on a ten-part arrangement of Wagner’s “Elsa’s Procession To The Cathedral” from Lohengrin. Although I love playing the alto trombone, the part presents a nice challenge regarding endurance and bears ample responsibility for delivering the melody at various points in the performance. Rehearsal had produced mixed results, and I had struggled at times to relax and not “fight” the alto (this is a common thing, strength + effort ≠ good alto playing). During the piece’s recap, I frequently disregarded a moving eighth-note line under my melody, which resulted in a lack of cohesion among the ensemble. My friend playing the line politely reminded me several times to listen down to him so I could properly deliver the tempo, but I had ignored this more than once while being self-absorbed in my part. Last night, while in the green room, we discussed it one last time, and I promised him I would not leave him hanging out to dry.

As we took the stage and prepared to begin, a sense that time had slowed down washed over me, and I felt my eyes make contact with all the members of the ensemble. In that moment, I was among family, and the connection I felt with each member of the group and those I knew in the audience made delivering the music among the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had in my time in Boston. Just before we began the recap, I locked on my friend, and I swear I almost chuckled because I finally realized how easy this all was. Instead of focusing internally, I allowed my perspective to look at what was happening on a macro level. An appreciation for the moment, for the people I was able to make music and develop rapport with, had opened my eyes to something I’ve only been able to key into a handful of times as a performer.

Odom’s book instantly came to mind at that moment, and I went back and listened to that chapter again this morning (it’s the second chapter, in case you want to check it out yourself). It feels like a lesson four years in the making and like a great omen for the months ahead while I prepare for my final DMA recital. Moving forward, I’m excited to place my awareness more outside of myself so as to better connect with the musical world around me.