Don't sit like an apology

I like to believe that there is something to be said for throwing yourself into an experience, head first.

Today I sang with a big band for a read-through of about ten songs (only five of which I actually sang for, thank goodness.), and it was so much fun. Also it was a disaster. Not that I was the only one in the room that made mistakes, and not that I was the only one there that we had to stop for, but man oh man it sure does feel like it when a drummer, bassist, guitarist, pianist, and 10-15 horn players all put their instruments down cause you came in at the wrong time.

I have to say, first and foremost, I am not a good reader. If I have a choice I will choose to learn by ear. Every time. So to teach myself four songs without a piano (it's been pretty much impossible to get into the music practice room these days) was a challenge that I accepted willingly, if not expertly.

Here are some reasons that I am proud: I did work hard. I listened to the songs, I looked up different versions, I tried to plunk out the notes on my phone's little mini piano. I came prepared. I printed out the sheet music days ago (I learned that it was unnecessary for me to bring them, but whatever), I was early, I had a water bottle and a pencil, and I helped set up. The other musicians were kind and friendly and I didn't let the fact that I was scared out of my head deter me from having a good time.

I sang the first song like I regretted every move I made, which... I kinda did. I realized as it was ending that that, among all of the wrong notes and timings, was my biggest mistake. The more confident I was, the more fun I had, and the better it went. I even made it through a song I had never heard before without sending myself into a full on panic.

"Kaila, don't sit like an apology." I don't know how many times a girl can repeat that phrase in her head in two hours (give or take a few minutes), but how ever many times that is, that's how many times it was. If anything else, I am proud that I warded off all traces of self-destruction. You may or may not believe this, but I don't like messing up or being wrong or stuff like that, so to sit through two hours of feeling inadequate without yelling at myself was a fun challenge for me. There is honestly something so wonderful about being the least experienced person in the room. It opens you up to all sorts of learning experiences that you would not have had otherwise.

Above all it was a phenomenal experience. It is so incredible to watch twenty musicians sit down, look at a piece of paper with a few splotches and lines on it that explains to them their part and their part only, and create something beautiful together.