Humble Pie

A few days ago I found myself staring out of large windows at the raging sea. It was nine O’clock at the morning and the wind was blowing hard. There were currents and side currents and small angry waves and the world was so grey it was almost black and white.

I was not in a good mood that morning, and the weather was just part of the reason why my mood was raging and murky. After all, bad weather is not so bad when you are inside, dry and warm.

It was nine in the morning and I was going to be playing a concert at ten. Looking around I realized that one: I was alone and two: there was nowhere to warm up. The first note I was going to play would be in front of people.

To be honest: I could have warmed up, if I really REALLY wanted to. There was the toilet, or a corner (with heavy mute you can play anywhere), but I just did not want to warm up. The reason for that was because I was about to play in a restaurant.

I am touring Wales as part of Ensemble Cymru (Ensemble Wales) and it is an education all right…

Peryn, the head of the Ensemble is a man with a vision: he wants to bring classical music to the people pf Wales and for that he is arranging concerts, workshop in schools and any other event one could possible think off. You have a hole in the ground and a creaking Yamaha electric organ from 1972? Great! We’ll play a concert.

He is succeeding though and had more than a hundred events a year and you can see he has a vision and is very passionate about it.

Still, I was sitting there thinking “Eyal, you are playing in a fucking restaurant”.

It is not as if I had not play gigs, weddings and other events in my life, but it was during the time I was a student, where you had to struggle to pay for your next drink.

Now I am a teacher in a university with a salary, a career and an impressive CV, “this” said a voice in my head “this is beneath you”.

And so I was sitting there, being angry, at myself, the world and Peryn with his lousy ideas and I refused to find a corner to warm up. When John, the pianist joined me we sat in silence, both probably thinking the same thing: “where had it all gone wrong…”

Slowly the people tickled in, in twos and threes, some middle aged but most retired with one young woman who caught my eye simply for being different than the rest.

They all bought tickets in advance and braved the storm to come for coffee, toffee and music. Two even called to say that they were stuck in traffic because of the floods and asked if we could start a bit later.

The place filled up, they had to bring some extra tables for people to sit and I realized something: I was a slave of my own ego. No, it was not Wigmor hall but those people came to listen to music and I am a musician. This is what it is all about, and it should not make me feel bad. Instead of anger I became ashamed of my previous thoughts and took my violin out, trying to find a corner to warm up, too late, we had to start.

I warmed up on stage, still battling my mixed emotions but in the end the people loved the concert and showed their enthusiasm.

So what is better? The limelight and darkness of the large halls or the expression of a person who hears you play up close?