I did it again. I froze in public. I forgot my place on the piano.
This is the second time in a month that I’d suddenly lost finger memory during a piano performance – the first time was at my audition for a class in the Juilliard School evening division. It was a terrifying experience, and yes, embarrassing. I could almost hear my audience gasping in sympathy, gulping in shock. I definitely heard my own voice the minute my left hand fingers slipped, screwing up a delicate phrasing at the beginning of the piece.
“Urgh…I did it again! How could this happen? Mable, you’ve been practicing the opening and getting it right, what’s wrong with you!? Ms. Huang is going to bite your head off!” I was beating myself up even as I kept playing beyond the first errors.
Ms. Huang is our teacher who’d heard me repeat the same mistakes many times before during practice in class, and those stubborn slip-ups irritate her. Of course they do, they irritate me!
My nerves finally succumbed to the stream of unstoppable self-criticism – I lost my concentration and stopped playing. What was probably a pregnant pause for two seconds felt like forever.
“Let me start over…” I murmured in silence, moving my fingers gently back to the beginning of the piece.
This time, I let go of self-consciousness, focusing only on delivering each melodic line at a time, following the forward momentum of the music. Pretty soon, I reconnected with the beauty and power of this piece “Liebestraum” (Franz Lizst). I regained composure and carried on to the end.
“Thank you, Mable. Thank you.” Ms. Huang said.
Everyone clapped, some gave me a long look; even a slight smile.
I went back to my seat, anxiously anticipating audience critique to come after every student has had his turn. This was a “master class” after all, designed as a rehearsal workshop for students to learn from one another, and from ourselves.
“I like her phrasing – there was a clear and smooth ending at each section.” Vladimir said.
“It was very nice… I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but…” Maryanne suddenly interrupted herself….
“O, please don’t worry, I’m here to learn.” I looked her in the eyes, seeking honesty.
“I think some sections are just too loud, way over the top. This piece means dreams of love, it should be dreamy. The sounds are too big!”
“I disagree,” Ms. Huang cut in. “I don’t think the sounds are big enough in the voicing. As a result, the whole piece sounded busy. If the voicing of the melodic lines is big and dominant, the supporting contrasting elements won’t overwhelm it. So, voicing is key.”
I was nodding to everyone’s feedback, but getting impatient with the absolute silence over my screw-up at the top when I suddenly stopped playing. Finally, Ms. Huang gave me a perfect set up –
“Actually, Mable – when you re-started the piece, your opening was very good.”
“Thank you, Ms. Huang. You know why I had stopped? I lost focus…I was beating myself up after I’d tripped – even though I had kept playing. I had been practicing those lines the way you wanted, I felt awful that my hours of practice didn’t come through. I had no idea why. I couldn’t get over it.”
“I’m so glad you brought it up – this is a great reminder for all of us. Class, you should never, ever – look back. You cannot evaluate yourself during performance. When you perform, you perform. You don’t look back, you look forward. You find a way to regain focus, you must keep going.”
“Actually, I froze too – “ Michelle chimed in. “I froze over the section for crescendo, I knew I had to keep adding volume from one measure to the next, but suddenly my mind stopped. I was like…. – what are you doing?” She burst into laughter. I cracked up too; so did the rest of the class.
“We all freeze, we all somehow stop, pause – physically, mentally during performance. The question is – what do you do? How do you cope? My advice is – keep going.”
We all need these useful reminders about how to handle failures, especially when we think we deserve to succeed because we’ve put in the hard work. But I remind myself that life is not linear, we don’t always get what we think we deserve. We will trip up; we will disappoint ourselves. We will face the worst demons within us over time. But I’m glad I’ve failed in a class, learned from my mistakes and listened to advice. I believe that success is defined not solely by outcome, but also by what you’ve overcome. Overcoming fears of failure by continuing is perhaps the greatest reward for my breakdown last week; it is also my breakthrough.