This is Why I Don't Play Contact Sports

So, it's Holy Week.  This being translated means that every professional musician in Western civilization is currently over-booked and pulling their hair out as they drive between gigs because there's only so many times you can play/sing "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" before you start feeling like this guy:

(It's the transition to "That's Amore" that gets me every time.  And maybe the accompanist.  And the overall awkwardness of the whole thing....okay, really the entire video is a gem.  You should watch it again to get the full effect.)

Yesterday at the Jesus House my choir did their big Easter-y musical thingy (those are all technical terms--I know, it's hard to keep up with this pro-musician jargon), and I probably should have known we were doomed from the outset when I woke up in an I'm-an-idiot-because-I-left-my-music-score-at-my-other-job-which-is-30-miles-in-the-opposite-direction-of-the-church-induced panic.

Yup.  That's right.  My beautifully-spiral bound score with copious notes to myself about gesture, entrances, expression, as well as reminders as to who was singing what solo and when to seat the choir was locked in La Spa, and I was gonna have to do this thing from memory.  To all you non-musicians out there, this might not seem like a big deal.  Let me see if I can put it in context for you.  Basically, this means I was Fuuuuuuuuuuucked.  Clearer now?  You're welcome.

But, as I said to the Boy Genius Organist, if that's the worst thing that happens today, we'll be sittin' pretty.  (Pretty sure that utterance was my downfall--damn you spiteful fates!)

We get to church, and begin our warm up/rehearsal time.  First of all, several people who should have been there weren't (family emergencies and illness--totally excusable, albeit inconvenient, as these people are some of my leaders in the choir), and then one person who had only been to one rehearsal in 3 months showed up to sing.  I wouldn't care if this singer were a whiz-bang sight reader, someone who would walk in and OWN it the day of the concert.  This person, however, has a good heart and is really sweet, but is mildly monotone on a good day, and I just really couldn't deal with it.  Whatever, I thought.  A warm body up here is a warm body, and my motto for church choir is "All who are willing are welcome."

Dumb, Eden.  Just dumb.

Then, 20 minutes until the start of the service, another one of my singers (who showed up 30 minutes late to rehearsal, I might add) throws a bitch fit because they can't see me, and the person standing next to them is singing a different part which makes it difficult for them to sing they're own part.  (This singer actually says to me, "I mean, I can't read the music, so I need to stand next to someone who is singing my part so I can hear it."  Hint:  this is among the Top 5 Things You NEVER Say to a Conductor on Concert Day, along with "I'll be sight-reading this really hard, epic, Wagnerian solo, is that okay?" and "Oh, you mean you're in charge?  I thought I got to control how everything goes, even though I'm just the third chair euphonium player.")  After this singer had successfully managed to cause a scene and made everyone else feel really uncomfortable, I finally looked this person in the eye and said, "Okay, listen.  Today, I get to have the biggest ego in the room.  Enough."

Singer-Person didn't like that too much.

So the time comes in the service when the choir is supposed to sing this piece that they've been working on since January.  And because I work so well under pressure, and had not been harried or frazzled at all throughout the morning so that I was completely focused on the task at hand, I take the podium, give the downbeat to Boy Genius, and then I MISS THE CHOIR'S ENTRANCE.

Luckily, no one seemed to be watching either the music OR the fool standing in front of them who is paid to be their Learned Leader, so no one came in.  Also it's lucky that Boy Genius is my fail-safe, and he expertly repeated the phrase (TWICE) so that I could have another shot at bungling the entire thing.  (Thank you for that, by the way.)

But, we all recovered, and the rest of the music went off without incident.  The choir was locked in to me, I was locked in to the music, and the congregation received it really well.  We were finishing one of the more tender movements, which they always sing with such finesse (I mean, I got goosebumps in rehearsal every time), and the choir had just reached the last chord and were sustaining it with nuance while the accompaniment finished the final flourishes. 

And a cell phone rings.

Of course it wasn't one of those innocuous phone-sounding rings; it was a full-on obnoxious mambo-inspired midi file cell phone ring.  As I give the release of the final chord, it is all I can do not to turn around and demand that whatever church-going imbecile did not silence their cell phone before the service started be tarred, feathered, drawn, and quartered.  But then I realize:  the offensive noise is coming not from the congregation behind me--BUT FROM ONE OF MY SINGERS IN FRONT OF ME.

If I had a super power, it would be Laser Death Rays that shoot out of my eyes (acid green in color, thank you), and I would have amped it up to Full Throttle there and then.  Really?  REALLY??? A fucking cell phone went off in my OWN CHOIR?!?!?!  This is one of the Musician's Seven Deadly Sins (Brad Pitt clearly doesn't know about these, else I feel there would have been a sequel before now).

So, granted, there were some things that happened on this Day of Disaster that were totally my fault; I take full responsibility for my forgetfulness and for not having my head in the game before I gave the downbeat.  But, OH MY GOD, how did the rest of this happen in the span of 2 hours????  I mean, when I fuck up?  I don't want it to affect anybody else--it's the main reason I didn't play football in high school (wait, is that right?).  Unfortunately, my chosen profession precludes me from being a hermit and limiting my short-comings to my own existence.  Moreover, it means I have to deal with and recover from everybody else's in my ensemble.  Plus, I think the NFL, as well as church-folk, have some sort of regulation against acid green Laser Death Rays.  Narrow-minded bastards.