“Is it time?”
“Not yet, we are just waiting for the final members of the public to take their seats. We have a full house. The director will say a few words about the concert series. And then over to you. I think another ten minutes.”
Another ten minutes. That is the whole first movement of the Mozart sonata. What if my playing is uneven? And there is that moment on the fourth page of the third movement. Never get it right. Always race through it and panic. It was the same in London, same in Shanghai, same in that strange cold church, and it will be the same in Hamburg. Vultures. Everyone listening to see if I make a mistake. They know the pieces better than I do. They listen to them over and over again. No – that is too unkind. They love music. But everyone loves seeing someone successful fail. Hours of classical music fail compilations on YouTube. Didn’t tell my therapist that. Too sick. Too Private.
He has nearly finished his speech. I know him. We talked after a concert in a dimly lit somewhere. I remember we talked about time. The problem is time. Music takes time. The pieces are long. You need will power and concentration. In this short attention span generation, everyone is too busy with being online. I disagreed with him but mainly as a knee jerk reaction. Everyone always tries to make Art into to some noble pursuit. Don’t get it. I don’t actually know any artists who talk in those terms, just other people trying to explain art. No blame. Just wish they would sometimes be less swift in condemning everything. Not as quick to glorify. More mundane. I like mundanity. Spend all my time playing these beautiful pieces. Now I'm allergic. I like thrillers and comic book films. Also anything with Matt Damon. I really like him.
“Excuse me, do you have a Banana?”
Good for concentration apparently. Time to clear my mind. Focus in. Google Earth. The Banana will be too ripe. I always have to wretch when I eat Bananas. Something about the texture.