A Modern Fan Girl in Training
What happens when you have a brush with fame? If you see a star walk down the street, do you applaud them? Ask for an autograph? Heckle them? Act like nothing is out of the ordinary? You’re supposed to act like nothing is out of the ordinary, but most people never do.
Once upon a time, I was told that I had the demeanor of a cool cucumber. I appeared calm, collected, and unfazed by the sheer talent that was around me, and what we were about to do. I was seemingly oblivious to the fact that I should be nervous. Still, the fact is that I didn’t bat an eye when working with famous musicians. I didn’t falter when at dinner with actors and famous novelists. I even had the opportunity to gain valuable insight personally from these people, and I just kind of took it all in stride.
Sadly, I was also a touch arrogant, something I worked to remedy years ago. In my arrogance, I once confessed to a composer that I’d never heard of his record label. A year later, he would go on to win a Pulitzer for his work. Another time, in an attempt to be funny, I told concert violinist Joshua Bell that while I was a fan of his music, my dog was a bigger fan. That much is true, since my dog would lie in front of the speakers whenever we played his recordings. I even acted rather nonchalant when a waitress dumped a pitcher of beer all over novelist Stephen R Donaldson who was seated two chairs over from me when we went out to dinner. I shrugged it off before returning to a story Connie Willis was telling about an experience with Harlan Ellison.
Arrogance may have made me appear calm, but I attribute my nerves of steel to my tenure of nearly thirty-five years on the stage in some way, shape or form. I’ve been able to pull off that cucumber demeanor, and I still can before and during a performance.
Perhaps the key is not to get caught acting anything other than cool. It’s caused me to get solos with orchestras, jobs in the industry, and the chance to work with immense talent on stage. The truth of the matter is, I’ve had plenty of crazy fan-girl moments in my life off stage. I’ve just never been caught in the act.
Well, until recently.
Sure, I’ve had my moments. Like when in an effort to fit in with my peers in the music department my freshman year in college, I ponied up money for a dozen roses to deliver to concert pianist Christopher O’Riley after a particularly moving concert. Did he ever get the flowers? I don’t know. I do know that I looked back on the whole thing with disgust after the deed was done. I’d participated in master classes with the pianist, and spoken with him after concerts in prior performances. He wasn’t the type to be swayed by excited fans giving flowers, and I knew it. Still, I wanted to fit in at my new school, and spending $12 to do it seemed like a mild initiation rite to endure.
On a separate occasion, I squealed and cried when upon attending mass in Vatican City, I stood only three feet away from the Pope as he blessed us. I’m not Catholic, yet I still found myself completely awestruck by the situation. I have no regrets about that event, but I do try to keep myself in check.
So it came as a complete surprise to me when I lost my cool not once, but twice in the last year after a performance ended. In June, a famous choral conductor showed up to a performance I was participating in. I wanted to thank him for coming, and he was very gracious. This is a man I’ve had the opportunity to work with in the past, and I had been considering auditioning for his group, because I knew it would be rewarding if I got in. So his presence at my chorale’s performance was a surprise. I might as well have been at a One Direction concert, judging by how ridiculous I acted.
“Oh my gosh, I’m a huge fan of yours! I never imagined someone as cool as you here!” is something I may have said. I know it got a lot more technical than that, because I praised his technique and artistic direction. Oh, but my praise was messy. Shawn, a concert pianist acquaintance of mine, shook his head at me with a ridiculous grin on his face. He saw the look of terror on my face as I continued to spill fan-girl drivel uncontrollably.
In the aftermath, many of my peers thanked me for ‘taking one for the team,’ but I could only think that there is absolutely no possible way that I could audition for this conductor now. Not after that episode!
But wait, it gets worse. Two weeks ago, I was part of a performance that featured a composition by up and coming composer Reena Esmail. I was thrilled to be performing her music, because she is immensely talented. After the performance, I walk past a guy who was posing with a friend of mine for a photo. I realized it was another up and coming composer named Nilo Alcala, who is known for combining gamelan and western classical music. Instead of just being gracious and thanking him for coming, I lost my cool yet again.
“You are amazing! I’m a huge fan of your work!” I say, as we shake hands. I should have left it at that, but sadly, I did not.
“Seriously, though, you need to meet my friend! He’s a musicology professor and pianist at such and such conservatory, and he’s also active in the gamelan community. He’s a huge fan of yours too. Sadly, I don’t remember the name of the group he plays with, but they’re in Manhattan.”
Here’s where you should be shaking your head. What on Earth are you doing, FavoriteBean? Alcala seemed amused, and he was definitely gracious. Yet I now fear that I’ve been reduced to the role of energetic fanatic for future events, and not the formerly cool as a cucumber self.
I worry that this may inhibit future performances or opportunities. The performing arts circles are small, even in massive cities like Los Angeles. Fortunately, I have a child that I can hide behind. I just need to bring that child with me everywhere from now on. Since it’s very easy to forgive a child’s unbridled excitement upon meeting stars, I can stand back and pretend to be a bored stage mom, right?
Then again, maybe the classical music world needs more excited fans. About sixty years ago, classical composers told fans that they didn’t care that listeners held disdain for the elitist avant-garde approach that was suddenly the future of the genre. Worse, they distanced themselves from anything that did not fit into the avant-garde shaped box. So listeners left. Classical musicians have struggled to fill concert halls ever since. The trend is changing with new composers mashing up sounds in an innovative way, but the change has been about twenty years in the making.
As a performer, I’ve been glad to shirk the arrogance I had decades before. I know that these rising stars in my field won’t be around forever, and I want to enjoy their music now. I consider myself very lucky to get to perform or even watch these people’s works come to life, and my colleagues feel the same way. Perhaps I shouldn’t feel too badly, that the cucumber demeanor is gone. I only wish that I’d experienced this fan phenomenon properly when I was younger so that I could temper that excitement just a little when the show is over.
*** **** ***
Special thanks to impoetry, roina_arwen and zedmanauk for acting as Beta readers for my piece.
Do you have a brush with fame experience you'd like to share? I'd love to read about it in the comments.
Thank you for reading.
Once upon a time, I was told that I had the demeanor of a cool cucumber. I appeared calm, collected, and unfazed by the sheer talent that was around me, and what we were about to do. I was seemingly oblivious to the fact that I should be nervous. Still, the fact is that I didn’t bat an eye when working with famous musicians. I didn’t falter when at dinner with actors and famous novelists. I even had the opportunity to gain valuable insight personally from these people, and I just kind of took it all in stride.
Sadly, I was also a touch arrogant, something I worked to remedy years ago. In my arrogance, I once confessed to a composer that I’d never heard of his record label. A year later, he would go on to win a Pulitzer for his work. Another time, in an attempt to be funny, I told concert violinist Joshua Bell that while I was a fan of his music, my dog was a bigger fan. That much is true, since my dog would lie in front of the speakers whenever we played his recordings. I even acted rather nonchalant when a waitress dumped a pitcher of beer all over novelist Stephen R Donaldson who was seated two chairs over from me when we went out to dinner. I shrugged it off before returning to a story Connie Willis was telling about an experience with Harlan Ellison.
Arrogance may have made me appear calm, but I attribute my nerves of steel to my tenure of nearly thirty-five years on the stage in some way, shape or form. I’ve been able to pull off that cucumber demeanor, and I still can before and during a performance.
Perhaps the key is not to get caught acting anything other than cool. It’s caused me to get solos with orchestras, jobs in the industry, and the chance to work with immense talent on stage. The truth of the matter is, I’ve had plenty of crazy fan-girl moments in my life off stage. I’ve just never been caught in the act.
Well, until recently.
Sure, I’ve had my moments. Like when in an effort to fit in with my peers in the music department my freshman year in college, I ponied up money for a dozen roses to deliver to concert pianist Christopher O’Riley after a particularly moving concert. Did he ever get the flowers? I don’t know. I do know that I looked back on the whole thing with disgust after the deed was done. I’d participated in master classes with the pianist, and spoken with him after concerts in prior performances. He wasn’t the type to be swayed by excited fans giving flowers, and I knew it. Still, I wanted to fit in at my new school, and spending $12 to do it seemed like a mild initiation rite to endure.
On a separate occasion, I squealed and cried when upon attending mass in Vatican City, I stood only three feet away from the Pope as he blessed us. I’m not Catholic, yet I still found myself completely awestruck by the situation. I have no regrets about that event, but I do try to keep myself in check.
So it came as a complete surprise to me when I lost my cool not once, but twice in the last year after a performance ended. In June, a famous choral conductor showed up to a performance I was participating in. I wanted to thank him for coming, and he was very gracious. This is a man I’ve had the opportunity to work with in the past, and I had been considering auditioning for his group, because I knew it would be rewarding if I got in. So his presence at my chorale’s performance was a surprise. I might as well have been at a One Direction concert, judging by how ridiculous I acted.
“Oh my gosh, I’m a huge fan of yours! I never imagined someone as cool as you here!” is something I may have said. I know it got a lot more technical than that, because I praised his technique and artistic direction. Oh, but my praise was messy. Shawn, a concert pianist acquaintance of mine, shook his head at me with a ridiculous grin on his face. He saw the look of terror on my face as I continued to spill fan-girl drivel uncontrollably.
In the aftermath, many of my peers thanked me for ‘taking one for the team,’ but I could only think that there is absolutely no possible way that I could audition for this conductor now. Not after that episode!
But wait, it gets worse. Two weeks ago, I was part of a performance that featured a composition by up and coming composer Reena Esmail. I was thrilled to be performing her music, because she is immensely talented. After the performance, I walk past a guy who was posing with a friend of mine for a photo. I realized it was another up and coming composer named Nilo Alcala, who is known for combining gamelan and western classical music. Instead of just being gracious and thanking him for coming, I lost my cool yet again.
“You are amazing! I’m a huge fan of your work!” I say, as we shake hands. I should have left it at that, but sadly, I did not.
“Seriously, though, you need to meet my friend! He’s a musicology professor and pianist at such and such conservatory, and he’s also active in the gamelan community. He’s a huge fan of yours too. Sadly, I don’t remember the name of the group he plays with, but they’re in Manhattan.”
Here’s where you should be shaking your head. What on Earth are you doing, FavoriteBean? Alcala seemed amused, and he was definitely gracious. Yet I now fear that I’ve been reduced to the role of energetic fanatic for future events, and not the formerly cool as a cucumber self.
I worry that this may inhibit future performances or opportunities. The performing arts circles are small, even in massive cities like Los Angeles. Fortunately, I have a child that I can hide behind. I just need to bring that child with me everywhere from now on. Since it’s very easy to forgive a child’s unbridled excitement upon meeting stars, I can stand back and pretend to be a bored stage mom, right?
Then again, maybe the classical music world needs more excited fans. About sixty years ago, classical composers told fans that they didn’t care that listeners held disdain for the elitist avant-garde approach that was suddenly the future of the genre. Worse, they distanced themselves from anything that did not fit into the avant-garde shaped box. So listeners left. Classical musicians have struggled to fill concert halls ever since. The trend is changing with new composers mashing up sounds in an innovative way, but the change has been about twenty years in the making.
As a performer, I’ve been glad to shirk the arrogance I had decades before. I know that these rising stars in my field won’t be around forever, and I want to enjoy their music now. I consider myself very lucky to get to perform or even watch these people’s works come to life, and my colleagues feel the same way. Perhaps I shouldn’t feel too badly, that the cucumber demeanor is gone. I only wish that I’d experienced this fan phenomenon properly when I was younger so that I could temper that excitement just a little when the show is over.
*** **** ***
Special thanks to impoetry, roina_arwen and zedmanauk for acting as Beta readers for my piece.
Do you have a brush with fame experience you'd like to share? I'd love to read about it in the comments.
Thank you for reading.