On April 10, I participated at Secondaire en Spectacle at Sylvain-Lelièvre theater of Cégep Limoilou. Since four years, I had wished to be a part of this event; still, it greatly overcame my expectations.
First, Annabelle (the dancer from the Collège) and I arrived at 11:45 at the Cégep. After taking the attendances and filling tedious forms, we were ready to begin our day. Following a meeting with the project’s staff, the general rehearsal begun. I passed first. The 15-minute practice allowed me to greet and soften the stage’s piano. As I hadn’t spent all the practice time with my piece, I set Chopin free and begun his first Nocturne, revealing me how to connect with the instrument itself.
Once it was over, nobody seemingly cared, because all of the other contestants stared at their phones, waiting for their turn. The audience was silent as a tomb. A strange uneasiness flowed through me, but I hoped that this awkward atmosphere would vanish before the show.
Then, I listened to the other artists. Surprisingly, I didn’t hear any wrong string being struck, any wrong note being sung or any keys missed. Thus, I felt that their talents wouldn’t let me any chance as each one raised the level higher and higher… At the end, contrasting with the six previous performances all including piano, played a rock guitarist, ‘’Dyl The Shredder’’. His hands flew over his tool (well, when one could see them moving at insane speeds). My feeble pianist eardrums exploded due to the speaker’s deafening volume, but from what I record, Dylan was so deep in his element that he successfully connected with all the audience.
After that, the participants who had already rehearsed went to a huddle offered by Jasmin Hains. He works in the world of communications at Radio Classique in Québec and Montréal and animates various presentations. The man’s diction never stumbled and he knew how to present any piece of information as interesting. Mr. Hains taught us about stage presence (how looking credible while speaking on any stage). Subsequently, we learned, out of the blue, the death of his sister, which ended the energic conference on a sweet-salted note.
Two portions of lasagna later, I dressed myself with bow tie and blue jacket. The show must go on!
Thus, I met the other artists in the lodges. Those who once looked like competitors now appeared as teammates ready to share their wonderful passions. Even though we couldn’t leave the lodges, we experienced popcorn throwing, last-minute practices, chattered and talked and chattered again about our lives or anything else. Nothing else mattered, but the very instant we were intensely feeling, as if time had forgot us. I shall remember this my entire life.
Unluckily, the clocks striked nineteen. When a magnificently moustached man addressed a tiny speech to the crowd, space and time themselves converged in my body. Abruptly, I realized that I was there now and I had to perform in front of an audience. Even though I knew that the theater was half empty according to David Clouet’s predictions, I was frightened, no, rather scared, worse, terrified by the idea of presenting my five minute piano composition on stage. What if I failed it all? What if, after months of practice, I ruined the piece I had written? Moreover, on top of the cake, the lasagna jumped in and out of my stomach, scoffing my meticulous preparation.
The only way to mute this fear was to listen to the show. Nevertheless, I was not alone in this, because everyone else that was performing supported the same weight. So, I carefully listened to the excellent, high-level songs and dances. The poor Annabelle was second while I passed ninth.
Finally, I climbed up the flight of stairs, which led me to the behinds of the stage. The stress tore me apart, I thought I would implode. It was time.
The curtains opened, the audience clapped. I greeted them. I sat. I adjusted my bench, trembling with the desire of offering the best performance (and uncontrollable fear). I played.
Suddenly, the fierce pain I felt for the previous half-hour totally vanished. I felt. The music reverberated in my head louder and louder. I blindly followed this guideline and materialized that echo into a pure sound, because I had a story to create.
We humans forget to feel the moment by living in the future. Music filled my veins, heart and head. I couldn’t be happier and tried, without playing slower, to extend my composition and to live up to the next second. What an incredible adventure! It was already over.
More words could not adequately represent my emotions, those I had transmitted to the crowd. Words ultimately lessen the essence of an emotion unless both are combined, which is not the case in a single text. At least, it presents a mere idea of the joy that flowed through me and, I hope, has reached some members of the audience.
Freed, I got back to the lodges. The fellow artists clapped. For once, I was proud of myself. I had beaten my doubts, questions, fears or anything else. I believe that for a brief moment, that night, I have shined. I had forgot there was a contest ongoing, but prizes are nothing but wretched scratches of our materialism. Even if I was a bit deceived of not having won a medal, I know that I did not lose, but I won against myself, and it was the best medal that I could ever handle.
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