Everyday that passes is a day that I near the night of my recital (and spring break; thank God that's coming). I decided that I wanted to play a tuba staple on my recital: Capriccio by Krysztof Penderecki. While it's a standard piece of tuba repertoire, it is also one of the most difficult pieces out there for us. It involves a lot of fast jumps between registers, necessitates technical ease, and a wide range of dynamic control.
It's like Billie Holiday song, you'll probably be really old before you feel you can do it justice.
Generally, people play this on an F (or Eb) tuba. I thought, "hey, why not play this on my C tuba?" For those of you who don't know, the difference between the F and Eb tubas and the C tuba is like the difference between a cello and a string bass or baritone voice vs. bass voice.... sorta.
Anyway, my "brilliant" idea and strange aural concept of this piece led me to make the choice to do it the harder way. Inevitably, my performance will be less accurate than if it were on the smaller tuba.
What I'm struggling with is a two-part problem: 1)Do I accept that the standard of my performance will be not as good in terms of objective execution? Or, do I maintain an ideal nearer to the perfection that I would achieve on the smaller tuba? 2)Is "accepting" my limitation being being realistic and wise or am I manning down?
I feel that no matter if any of you reading this understand anything about tuba music or not, everyone can relate to the reality that they all possess limitations. Is the purpose of limitations to constantly strive to transcend them? Is it to work "within the system" ultimately creating something unique to you because of your limitations? Or is it that we should always be cognizant of what battles we choose to fight?
To put it concretely, I have three choices:
1) Man up and go for the same standard of performance as if I had it the easier way, with my small tuba.
2) Work within my C tuba limitations and make something really musical and passionate, accepting the technical flaws that will come along.
3) Familiarize myself with my limitations and never attempt performing something that will cause me to choose between the two previous choices.
I think that the choice I make, and that everyone makes in situations of recognizing their challenges, is largely telling of what kind of person I am and what I value. Someone can play a sport with great statistic success. Dedication, discipline, results. But lacking heart and passion. No vitality. They represent choice one. There are great businesspeople with damn good know how but who possess even better people skills. They are easy to like and connect with; there is an organicism about them. They represent choice number two. Then there are people in the world who live in a manner that keeps them secure. They do just enough to be better than half assing the job but they don't stand out. Not good. Not bad. They represent choice number three.
The question at my ripe old age of 24 is who do I want to be? Who does anyone want to be?
Someday, I'll listen to my recording of this piece and wonder what all the neurosis was for. I can't say for sure that any of it even matters.
O! absurdism, how you haunt me.
But that's a philosophy for another day.
So long.
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