I've recently had an operation where my right ulna was shortened and various other procedures happened, leaving me in plaster for six to eight weeks. The surgery was postponed because of a concert featuring a piece of mine that was performed by a talented and committed new music group in Cambridge, CB3. Such events are relatively rare, as indeed is the sawing of one's bones, so to have them both on the same day proves that the law of Sod is no friend to music or medicine.
The piece was received well by a small but appreciative audience, a phrase that occurs so often when linked with new music (can't think why). Sitting and listening to one's thoughts dance around on stage is a delight, and I was asked beforehand if I felt nervous about the music. In this case the answer was no. This was a second performance; the piece had been recorded and issued on CD so I knew it worked; and having attended a rehearsal I also knew that the players would deliver a fine performance.
Trivial though it may seem, the only thing to create nervous tension within me was the thought of taking a bow. I would prefer to sit anonymously at the back and let the concert move on to the next work. And I never seem to get it right. In this instance, I leapt to the stage, tried to thank conductor and players first and then acknowledge any applause still rippling around the concert hall, my main aim being not to offend anyone or leave anyone out.
Perhaps bowing should be a part of the training when studying. I remember observing the change in student singers while at the Royal Academy. At the start of term you couldn't separate them from others in the canteen queue, but as time passed one or two would totally change in deportment, their moves would become more graceful and controlled. I am convinced that they were taught to become opera stars in all that they said or did. Fine for appearances at La Scala, amusing if watching them order two teas and an egg on toast. Anyway, it gives me something else to work on.
Now, a couple of weeks after both events I am faced with continuing the composition of my piano pieces. The temporary lack of use of one limb, albeit the one that holds the pencil, should not be too difficult (and Beethoven and Delius faced much greater hardships). In fact, in one sense it is quite a good thing- there is no chance that I can try anything out on the piano myself at the moment, and so will have to resort to my imagination alone to realise the sketches for the next two pieces, and also write everything with the left hand. Sharpening my pencils will be tricky. Though of course I now have the time to perfect, should it ever be needed again, my composer's bow ...
