Saturday, February 18, 2006
Strange Brew
It was a strange feeling indeed.
For the past 3 years I was involved in Kent Ridge Halls annual musical production as an instrumentalist, playing guitar most of the time. It was always a tiring yet rewarding experience, of figuring out and arranging all the songs, of practicing and running through scene after scene till late at night, of all the hassle and preparation in the run up to the show, and of course performance day itself.
We went through the whole musical so many times that we could almost recite the whole thing line for line, sometimes I heard the songs in my head in the morning when I brushed my teeth. Yet somehow, on performance day we’d still laugh at the same jokes that we’d heard a million times, and then some others which we didn’t find funny before but which the audience did. Every time the curtain fell at the end of the night there was the relief and satisfaction of a job well done, of many months of effort come to fruition.
I’d seen 3 different batches of production crew come and go, amongst them were a few recalcitrant, repeat offenders like myself but otherwise every year always proved a different challenge and musical experience. Working with new faces always brought a fresh perspective and variety to the musical stew, and it was gratifying to hear that the music was usually one of the more memorable points of each years production. Being involved as an instrumentalist was usually so absorbing and time-demanding that after each one was done, I found myself suddenly a little lost, not knowing what to do with the free time with which I had become unaccustomed.
Which was why it felt a little strange sitting in the crowd, watching the production as a paying audience. Everything was oddly familiar, the whole setup, venue, even the smell of the place. I could nearly imagine what was going on behind the scenes, from the stage manager sitting at the Star Trek-like TV console, the mad rush for the cast to get their make-up and hair done while having dinner, the last minute adjustments to the microphone levels, right down to the freezing air-conditioner in the dressing rooms. Deep down there was a part of me that wished I were back in the thick of action, wielding a guitar.
There was barely time to reminisce before the curtains opened. The show that they put up was fantastic, and the music was woven into the play much more smoothly than before, flowing with the ebb and tide of the plot. The 2 guitarists did a great job, doing their part to bring the music to life as I had done before. The bass player for the 2 previous years served as the music director, conducting the rest of the instrumentalists with aplomb, while another guitar player from the previous year held the bass lines firm this time round.
I was glad to see this kind of continuity in the group of instrumentalists flourish, each one becoming more adept and experienced with every passing performance. Those who were new certainly didn’t appear to be so, no doubt aided by the combined pool of experience within the group.
At the end of the night, I knew I had made the right decision to step aside, for others to undergo that same learning experience. My greatest satisfaction came from knowing that I wasn’t missed.
It still felt weird to pay for a ticket though.
For the past 3 years I was involved in Kent Ridge Halls annual musical production as an instrumentalist, playing guitar most of the time. It was always a tiring yet rewarding experience, of figuring out and arranging all the songs, of practicing and running through scene after scene till late at night, of all the hassle and preparation in the run up to the show, and of course performance day itself.
We went through the whole musical so many times that we could almost recite the whole thing line for line, sometimes I heard the songs in my head in the morning when I brushed my teeth. Yet somehow, on performance day we’d still laugh at the same jokes that we’d heard a million times, and then some others which we didn’t find funny before but which the audience did. Every time the curtain fell at the end of the night there was the relief and satisfaction of a job well done, of many months of effort come to fruition.
I’d seen 3 different batches of production crew come and go, amongst them were a few recalcitrant, repeat offenders like myself but otherwise every year always proved a different challenge and musical experience. Working with new faces always brought a fresh perspective and variety to the musical stew, and it was gratifying to hear that the music was usually one of the more memorable points of each years production. Being involved as an instrumentalist was usually so absorbing and time-demanding that after each one was done, I found myself suddenly a little lost, not knowing what to do with the free time with which I had become unaccustomed.
Which was why it felt a little strange sitting in the crowd, watching the production as a paying audience. Everything was oddly familiar, the whole setup, venue, even the smell of the place. I could nearly imagine what was going on behind the scenes, from the stage manager sitting at the Star Trek-like TV console, the mad rush for the cast to get their make-up and hair done while having dinner, the last minute adjustments to the microphone levels, right down to the freezing air-conditioner in the dressing rooms. Deep down there was a part of me that wished I were back in the thick of action, wielding a guitar.
There was barely time to reminisce before the curtains opened. The show that they put up was fantastic, and the music was woven into the play much more smoothly than before, flowing with the ebb and tide of the plot. The 2 guitarists did a great job, doing their part to bring the music to life as I had done before. The bass player for the 2 previous years served as the music director, conducting the rest of the instrumentalists with aplomb, while another guitar player from the previous year held the bass lines firm this time round.
I was glad to see this kind of continuity in the group of instrumentalists flourish, each one becoming more adept and experienced with every passing performance. Those who were new certainly didn’t appear to be so, no doubt aided by the combined pool of experience within the group.
At the end of the night, I knew I had made the right decision to step aside, for others to undergo that same learning experience. My greatest satisfaction came from knowing that I wasn’t missed.
It still felt weird to pay for a ticket though.
# posted by BloozeGit @ 2:37 am 
