Reacting in Real Time

This past weekend I had the great pleasure of playing in the pit orchestra for the Nutcracker for the fourth year. This time around, I’m expecting at least one thing will not go as planned. However, the fun part is that we never know what it is until it happens. Then we’re just reacting in the moment. Or in some cases, trying hard not to react.

The pit is long and narrow. It’s located in front of the stage, rather than underneath, like a real orchestra pit. Seating arrangements are always a bit odd. First of all, the configuration is completely different from how we sit for rehearsals. The elongated shape of the pit separates us from instruments we normally play with. For example, the bassoons sit at one end and the double bass and cellos sit all the way at the other end. This can make it pretty difficult for us to play together at times.

For the first three years I sat right up against the stage. There was barely enough space for me to hold my instrument without occasionally hitting it. I also couldn’t see anything except for a few arm flaps during the Snowflake Waltz. Though to be fair, it eliminated a lot of distractions. This year, however, we had a last minute seat swap with one of the percussion players. I ended up on the edge closer to the audience. I could see the stage, but my head was mere inches from the timpani. Luckily, my musician’s ear plugs protected my ears even while it created a lot of interesting vibrations in my body.

I happened to have my ear plugs out to play the coffee character dance. It features a very beautiful bassoon duet while the dancers sashay around in glittery, colorful costumes. It’s a sensual and fascinating depiction of arab-themed dancing. Everything was going well until about halfway through the piece. Suddenly we heard this loud, scratchy squeak from one of the ballerina’s shoes! It persisted until the end of the piece and came back again during the “Waltz of the Flowers.” While I felt a pang of compassion for the ballerina, I was also feeling some for myself trying to keep a straight face so I could play all the delicate, hard notes at the end of the movement. Always something to keep us on our toes.