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The Heart in Orchestra

COVID-19 reflections on why music remains so important to me
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Created by rosewater

Published on Jan 14, 2025
two young women playing violin in an orchestra with a stand of sheet music in front of them
Manuel Nägeli on Unsplash

The following are old reflections on my musical journey back in 2020, when COVID-19 and social distancing measures were common everywhere. Many industries came to a standstill, but perhaps none were affected so much as the performing arts. In a world of practicality and efficiency, what use were the arts? Below is a younger me struggling with my own answer.

A while ago a friend told me after one last concert, she was most likely going to leave the orchestra both of us were part of and asked me if she should. I told her she should do whatever she felt like doing. A friend who was with us joked that I was happy to see her go, which I denied quickly but laughed along anyway. Actually, I just didn't want to burden her. If I were to be honest, the conversation would go more like "Please dear god no you're my only friend there." 

Eventually, COVID-19 came and the concert she was planning on making her last was postponed anyway, so my fear of friendlessness was assuaged for the time being. But the question she was asking herself stayed: What if I left? This question has followed me for the many years I remained in the orchestra in many shapes and forms. An acquaintance once wondered if our academic commitments would one day be too overwhelming to continue playing. My parents after I stopped formal training for the violin, the instrument I played in the orchestra, asked me if I was ready to put it down, as though ending the misery of some aged childhood pet. Even my own lips have posed the question, asking myself, What if I left?

Occasionally, that question still runs through my mind. During those five hours a week of backbreaking practice, I often find myself wondering: God, why am I even here?

Unfortunately, I stray far from an ideal musician. Too often have I shown up late to rehearsals or crammed thirty pages of sheet music the day before rehearsal, eventually settling for unsuccessfully playing by ear (in both senses of the phrase). As a mediocre member of the largest instrument section, I take a backseat to many superior players, ending up at the outskirts of the section overshadowed by the backs of many heads towering over me. Many of these heads belonged to students enrolling in esteemed schools dedicated to the pursuit of the arts.

Back when I was in primary school from ages seven to twelve, I too was more art-oriented as a student, pouring more effort into literature and music especially. It was only when I was on the cusp of graduating and had to find a secondary school that I took a sharp turn from these disciplines. My parents had told me with utmost honesty that I was most likely too mediocre to continue pursuing music in my higher education, so instead I dedicated my efforts to something more practical.

Slowly the arts began to phase out of my formal education. My school assigned more lab practicals and programming assignments than it did narrative essays and music theory, and I spent less time hammering at the piano and more time pouring over textbooks. This change, despite being disruptive and unusual, was for the better. Without it, I wouldn't have found my interest in Chemistry. However, my life was undoubtedly taking a different direction than I had previously planned, leading me to quit both violin and piano lessons. A logical next step would be to quit the orchestra too and dive deep into my other studies. After all, what did five hours of being overshadowed, continuously drilled by the conductor and feeling tired out of my mind every week even mean to me?

The answer has arrived to me in many forms. In an agitated crescendo, brows furrowed and eyes trained on the paper before us, bows quivering with excitement and anticipation. In a tranquil quiet, when everyone gazes in admiration at someone's heart-wrenching solo with only the bare minimum of accompaniment lingering in the background, diffusing through the concert hall. In the roar of applause reverberating through the sawdust-smelling air, as everyone stands, chests heaving and sweating in the air-con, to receive it. In moments like these everything seems to click, for just an instant. The fatigue in my limbs melts away, along with whatever trivial worries and frustration I still hold in my heart. Whatever hardships and struggles feel justified, if they were only to bring me here as a humble note in some grand symphony. It is right then and there that I remind myself for the umpteenth time that music is something I cannot truly ever let go of. As though a bit of my heart chips off every rehearsal, every concert, clinging onto the music's dying echoes, incurring a debt of emotions the orchestra has provided me that I can never truly repay.

All orchestra rehearsals have been cancelled for a few months now, since mixing a hundred and eighty students of different schools ranging from around eleven to eighteen in close proximity probably wouldn't be the brightest idea in these times. As someone who has sat right in front of the flutes as they blast in my ear, I can guarantee you I am in point-blank range to have Coronavirus shot through the back of my head like a blow dart. This experience gave me a glimpse into an orchestra-free life. And while I have much more free time on my hands to binge television, there's undoubtedly a part of me left languishing in a cold, lonely rehearsal studio. A part of me, that despite the blood, sweat, tears and numerous complaints involved, I cannot wait to find again.

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