Chapter 23

With Y’s private concert over and my associations with anything relating to CC completely severed. It was now time to move on. I had to focus on my solo Kiwanis competition. 

At this point, I had maybe a week or two left before the competition and it was now crunch time. The stress was starting to build up. I started practicing more and more. What started at around 3 hours a day quickly devolved into 5. I stopped breakdancing for a bit to spare more time. Then I spent all my lunch breaks at school drilling the pieces. Most of this time was working on Suite No. 3 as I had kind of given up a bit on Kol Nidrei. I knew that I had a much better understanding and connection with Suite No. 3 and that if I was to do well in any of the competitions, Suite No. 3 was it. All my eggs were in this basket.

I wasn’t entirely confident though. Remember X’s Facebook comment? That struck a chord with inner demons. Despite all I have gone through, I am still unsure if I was even a good cello player without  CC. I mean, his music and his way of learning was all I knew for the majority of my life. Who knows how good I actually am? What if all that really was just CC playing a role in shaping me into the best cellist? What if the silver medal really was just because I got lucky? This is the first time I would encounter imposter syndrome. I wish I could say it was the last but that wouldn’t be true at all.

Eventually, the time came to compete. 

I arrived at the venue with my accompanist. I could now drive and was able to get myself to the competition just fine. The location of the competition was in a small church in downtown Toronto and it was easy enough to find. The inside of the church had a brilliant echo. You could hear everything. I knew right away it would be hard to hide your mistakes. The audience was small. Afterall, only competitors, accompanists and parents were allowed. No audience members outside of your fellow competitors and their family really. You could count all the people in the crowd on 1 hand. 

The competition wasn’t filled to the brim. This made sense for a few reasons. First was that this season was winter and it was not a very popular season to compete in. I don’t the reason but I assume it has to do with the fact that most competitors were high school students and this was around exam time for us. If you’re curious to know how I found time to do music while also being in a situation of studying for exams, stay tuned. That gets answered in a future chapter. Anyhow, I was told by someone that the Spring competition was much more of a crowd pleaser since summer meant the kids had nothing to do but practice. One more factor as to why the crowd was thin was that this was a cello competition. We were not few in number but if you did a side by side comparison with the violins you could see that it was night and day. We were outnumbered. Cellos are the lancers of hero parties. We weren’t the protagonist, we were the support. It was better than being a side character like a viola but we were rarely in the spotlight nonetheless. 

I unpacked my stuff and got to warming up a bit. Time seemed to pass by too quickly now. I felt like all the things I wanted to do with the Kol Nidre but never got the chance to. It felt like it was a mistake. Competing without my best foot forward also felt horrible. I felt the tension rising up. But it was useless anxiety, nothing I could do now after all. The only problem was, knowing it was just nerves didn’t help make them go away. I tried to calm my breathing and kept warming up. Eventually, the warm up time expired. It was time to take a seat and await my turn. 

All the competitors sat in the audience and listened to one another. I think we all went up alphabetically by name. The sonata competitions had a few repertoires you could’ve chosen so it wasn’t just everyone playing the same pieces again and again but it was still nerve racking. The first cellists went up and played some of the best cello playing I have ever heard. They were easily in the leagues of professionals. I knew it was going to be hard to compete with that. Nonetheless, I tried to block that out of my mind and patiently awaited my turn. As you can probably tell, the Sonata section was up first. 

When it was finally my turn, I went in with my Kol Nidrei. I sat down with my cello took a deep breath. I used another trick the UofT instructors told me to help a bit. I consciously talked with my cello. I thanked it for all the time it spent with me as I got verbally abused again and again with CC. I thanked it for giving me an identity and thanked it for all the achievements and meaning it gave my life. Then I asked it to help me play this piece to the best ability I could. Then I drew my bow and played the piece. 

It went surprisingly well. I knew I didn’t have enough time to fully memorize and outclass the competition but if I am being honest, I was barely looking at the sheet music. All my practice had basically gotten the piece embedded into my brain. That’s what I thought when I first started the piece but in the middle of playing, I suddenly found myself in a very fortunate situation to have my sheet music with me. I got so nervous I lost track of where I was. Having the sheet music with me though? I found myself and was able to avoid missing my queues. I may have crumbled a bit under pressure but luckily, no epic fails resulted. Another thing I found out about my nerves was that it made my fingers uncontrollably shaky. But that luckily didn’t matter too much because I would just use vibrato to cover it up into obscurity. Looking back, I think the Kol Nidre really did help me get a feel for how competition works. I got more attuned to my nerves and I understood them a lot more following this. 

After I was done. I felt some relief. It wasn’t horrible. I did a decent job. In comparison to the best playing of the piece I have ever done in practice, I would say this playing was around 80% of the best. That’s a good number. I forget when I picked this up but I think it was from breakdancing. What I am referring to is the best performance you can do casually versus in a competition or on stage setting. Your best performance will always be in the comfort of a practice room or in a practice session. Your job as a performer or a competitor is always to try to achieve the same level as best as you can when you’re in the limelight. Once I understood this, competition became easier and I cut my self some slack as well. It made performance nerves a tangible thing. However, as you can clearly tell, it did not take away ALL the nerves. 

After I played my piece, the audience applauded and now I was in the crowd, waiting to hear the rest of the competition play their pieces. I started to pay attention to the people in the same boat as me a bit more. 

The competition was tough but I was pleasantly surprised to see no one I knew. Everyone was a stranger. It was difficult to get a read on them but most of them looked around my age though. What’s more is that they were really good. This was bad but good. It was bad in that my competition was tough but it was good because my worldview has expanded. I got a glimpse that said “hey, CC’s world is but just one in a sea of many”. Though I severed my ties with one community, there were others around. 

I think if I recall correctly, there were around 6-7 other contestants. There was a range of repertoire for the section and I think there may have been only one other person who did the Kol Nidrei with me. In the end, he got second place. I ended up getting fourth. 

I took the time right after the sonata competition to reflect. I thought about how the nerves really got to me. I knew that with just the amount of things I was missing I probably wouldn’t have done too well but I understood why I was nervous. I tried to calm myself as much as I could. But there was not too much time to take a breather. The next competition section was already in queue. While the Kol Nidre was a piece I dedicated time to, it was nowhere near the amount of practice and dedication I’d given to the Bach Suite No. 3. That was the next competition that was about to happen.

This was it. 

This was the defining moment of seeing if I am actually a good player. This was it. My magnum opus to the cello for all my years so far. This was my true test. There were only 5 participants for this one. I looked at them all calmly. This is who I was up against. There were 3 other Asians who looked my age in this competition. They had shown up with their parents. The last two contestants were white. The minute I saw the competition, I forgot the Kol Nidre. It didn’t matter anymore. Kol Nidre was my runner up piece. The Suite No. 3 was my A game. 

The competition started.

This competition was different from the last. Most of us all played Suite No. 3. In the Bach competition, it seems everyone was almost playing the same piece. There were no differences in the pieces and therefore, a plain and very nerve racking competition began. If everyone knew the piece you were using to compete, they all knew the pieces and the difficult sections. If you made even a tiny mistake, everyone would hear it right away. They were all listening intently for it. Having something familiar to everyone meant that they all could scrutinize you in the most effective and accurate way. This was a cut throat competition.

I listened intently. First up were the three other Asians I was competing with. The repetitive playing of pieces made it easy to follow along and hear micro-intonation issues here and there. A simple error such as a bow direction switch was evident and huge. I quickly realized that those three other Asians in the competition that played Suite No. 3 definitely came from the same teacher. They played the piece all the same. Same bowings and same dynamics. It was cut and pasted all around. The micro differences in their playing seemed only to be a difference in terms of skill and dexterity of hands. While it was different, they all felt very similar. At this point I also came to realize that since I had researched and made my bowings and fingerings from scratch that I had made a way of playing the Suite No. 3 that was INCREDIBLY different from their way of playing. I was unsure if this was a good thing. 

Now, to the untrained eye, it was all the same. Most of the competitors so far had played the same way to the same repertoire. To the competitors, it was all laid bare to be seen. In Bach, it was sometimes difficult to assess skill very well. Afterall, Bach was very mathematical. Only if you listened hard enough could you sneak a peek at what lay underneath. Some would say this is the case with most Classical music. The notes were there. The dynamics and timing was there too. Just copy and paste what you can read. It seems pretty robotic no? 

The analogy that most classical music people would say about music is that it’s like cooking. A lot of the recipe was already laid out for you in a recipe book AKA your sheet music. You may get a lot of instructions and a very definitive and neatly portioned recipe but the blending of all those ingredients at the right times will still only sometimes yield the same stuff. This is because the difference is the cooking. At a certain level, everyone will blend the right ingredients and everyone will have access to the best recipes. The cooking is where you shine. What do I mean by this? On a professional level, all musicians will play with perfect intonation and perfect tempo and rhythms. It’s how you stand out despite having all the same skills that will define you as a true artist. 

This is when I knew that I could beat those three other Asians. They were playing into their own weakness. The fact that they all played the same way made them all feel stale and boring. While the micro-differences were there, they were not outstanding. There was not a single line in the competition guidelines that said that the pieces would be judged on skills and dexterity alone. They were there to simply try and be the same as each other, I was there to be different. I feel like they haven’t been introduced to the toxicity that I have been through. I wish they never would. But the toxicity, however it came to affect me, did give me character. The toxicity was from CC and this piece was my way of washing away his influence. To me, the piece wasn’t just something my teacher told me to do. To me, Suite No. 3 prelude had meaning and will. 

My bowings sometimes didn’t make sense and my fingerings felt weird at times. But that’s all intentional based on what my hands feel and want to move. The script was mine to write. I wasn’t following anyone, I was trying to work with the tools I have to the best of my ability. I was trying to will my hands to their best by myself with conscious direction. This was my piece and the artistic decisions were my prerogative. 

I felt more confident as the last of the three Asians finished their piece. Next up was one of the two Caucasian competitors. Unfortunately, both of them would prove to be no joke. 

Both of them had decided to do Bach’s Suite No. 4. The other option for repertoire for this competition. I don’t know how it came about that the Asians all decided Suite No. 3 and all the Caucasians decided on Suite No. 4 but this was just the way it was. I was to go between the two of them being 4th on the roster. 

The first was a boy around my age. He was a very solid player. The skills were there and boy, did he know how to cook. He had personality and confidence. I felt angry that it was enjoyable. The only thing that made his set a bit weaker was that he seemed like he was even more nervous than me with the Kol Nidre. The shaking he had in his hands led to some intonation errors. I knew then that if I played my best, I would give him a run for his money, assuming I would play perfectly. 

When he finished, we all applauded and I got ready and went up. I was fourth and was to go on stage right after him. I reminded myself that all I needed to do was not screw up. I just needed to play the piece the most comfortable way I could. How could I do that though? I was nervous. I was anxious. I thought the second time being on the stage in one day would be better but it wasn’t. I realized then that I had one last trick up my sleeve that I could use for the Suite No. 3 that I couldn’t have used for the Kol Nidre. 

Since I memorized Suite No. 3, I could close my eyes. I could shut out the world.

I liked closing my eyes on stage. When I closed my eyes, I could perform without the fear of all the other people watching me. While it did require me to memorize the performance repertoire, the end result speaks for itself. It allowed me to concentrate on a level that was more relaxed and flowy like when I was in a practice room. 

On the day of any competition, what my experience has so far taught me was that it was not like a few extra practice playthroughs would make that much of a difference. This meant that no matter where you stood in terms of preparation, you got to go on stage and act like this was the entire plan. If you had the choice to drill your pieces a few more times or prepare yourself mentally on the game day, I’d say choose the mental preparation. Most competitions and performances were about showmanship and presentation. You can’t have second thoughts and self doubt on the stage, that’s just not a good show. Furthermore, if you don’t believe you’re the best on stage, the audience won’t believe it either. 

This was a problem for me. I didn’t have that much self confidence. How could have I developed that? I never got coddled as a child and the only love language my mom seemed to know is verbal abuse. I believe that was even in the standard parenting guidelines for most Asian parents. So it was difficult for me. The only out I had was to block them out. Focus on what I want things to mean and choose to believe in myself. I decided to hone in on that thought.

I got up on the stage and I said to myself, just do your best. Don’t think about choking. Just present them with what you have done and show them who you are. Let the hard work and practice you put into the piece flow through you. Show them how despite the treacherous journey you’ve had, you really did make it pretty far. Don’t think about winning. Think about how far you have come and what this piece means to you. 

Time stood still. All things stopped and played out in slow motion. The nerves and adrenaline had reached my head. I was starting to feel the nerves coming on and my mind was going thousands of kilometers a minute. 

I thought back and remembered all the horrible things that didn’t happen with this piece. I didn’t get yelled at like I normally do. I didn’t get scolded for doing things differently. I didn’t have anyone compare my pieces to anyone else’s in a way to make me more like them. I did research and found my own bowings and fingerings. They matched the hand positions I liked and the most comfortable bow swings I felt were right. This was my piece. My piece. I made every decision on this one. I am responsible. I was the one at the helm. 

Actually, you know what? 

I made this piece something I am happy with and I really do mean that. I am happy with the state of my current Suite No. 3. It was made the way I liked and the way I found it most appealing. The articulations are mine and if I was my own audience member with all the knowledge of the recipe for this piece, what I had practiced and made would be what I would’ve wanted to hear. I not only did this competition for me, I learned this piece for me and I am now playing this piece for me. I don’t think it really matters how I do and how the judge is going to judge me for my playing here. I am here to make music that I enjoy.

This revelation came to be as I was getting ready and setting up. 

The feeling of shakiness disappeared. 

The dark warm feeling came back a bit. This time, it had evolved again. It was a death wish with a smile. I was going to do this my way and the best way I knew, but I would be doing this with the thought of how it would be something I would be proud of no matter what. The weight of the performance lifted. I felt bliss. I had hit euphoria. 

To avoid losing this momentary calm and flow-state, I closed my eyes as soon as all the set up was complete and after a momentary pause. Nerves were working with me right now but let’s not poke a tiger with a stick. Nervousness and anxiety can take a nasty turn easily and spiral. 

With my setup complete. I took a deep breath. Kept my eyes closed. Pictured myself back in a rehearsal room and just working on the piece I’ve come to identify myself with. Suite No. 3 Prelude. A simple and yet beautiful piece. 

I started playing.