The Red Light—We're Live!
June 2024
I climbed onto the stage, my black patent leather Mary Jane’s clacking across the hardwood floor. I sat down at the Kawai piano and placed my hands in C position. I was performing “A Short Story” from Suzuki Piano School, Vol. 2, which my teacher said was a challenging recital piece (I refused to listen).
I was 10 and perhaps overly confident because as I entered the final section, I caught a glimpse of the audience. The stage lights were bright and the room was dark—too dark to see anyone’s faces, thankfully, but it was impossible to miss the steady red light of the shoulder-mount camcorder my dad had perched on his left shoulder (remember those??).
That’s when I remembered I was being recorded. In that moment, I watched in slow motion as my left index finger played a wrong note. It seemed almost deliberate—defiant, even.
I froze.
The rest of the piece vanished from my memory and the only sound I could hear was the soft whoosh of the air conditioning in the hall.
I turned in panic to my teacher who stood at the edge of the stage. She was elegant and graceful, her white-blonde hair wrapped in a loose bun on the back of her head. She wore an ivory silk blouse, black pants, and black pumps. Always pumps. She gestured for me to start the section again and since there didn’t seem to be any other way out of this situation, I did, albeit cautiously.
Again, the Alberti bass, the C scale, and again the defiant second finger playing the same wrong note.
Again, the vanishing melody, the silence in the hall.
The room seemed to grow even darker as my peripheral vision narrowed. At some point, my teacher came over to the piano and showed me the music. I don’t remember finishing the piece, though I know I must have. And I never saw the video my dad made (he must have stopped recording at some point, thank goodness).
If it had been up to me, that would have been my last recital ever, but 6 months later, I found myself walking onto that same stage in front of mostly the same audience, facing my fears and performing again (without the video camera this time).
I’m glad I remember the things I do from that 5th grade Fall piano recital (even though, TRAUMA). Because in that moment under the stage lights, sitting at the piano in my velvet dress and white tights (it was the 90s, after all), I made the conscious decision to keep going, to figure things out, to find a way through.
And that's a lesson I've carried with me all these years.
They say you write about the things you need to hear yourself: Last month, I wrote about courage and risk; today, I’m writing about tenacity and perseverance.
Because I don’t know about you, but it’s 2024 and I’m *this many* years old and I still need the reminder:
“Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.” - Dale Carnegie
This is what it's like to be a musician, right? Especially if you do multiple things in your career.
It takes curiosity and tenacity, strategy and risk, creativity and reflection.
And that steady red light out there in the darkness reminds us that we figure a lot of this out in real time—we’re live!—performing and presenting, reacting and responding, learning and innovating.
What does this look like for you right now?
We met Alexander Kobrin at a reception a few days after his concert and expressed our sheer awe and amazement at what he had accomplished and our gratitude for inviting us along for the journey.
“I don't know how you did it,” Steve said. “Me neither!” he replied with a laugh.
The point is: Courage is contagious.
If you see someone doing something brave—taking a risk, or persevering no matter how daunting the task—it motivates you to do the same.
Whether it's a musical performance, public speaking (me this week!), pressing send/submit/publish, speaking up, showing up live on camera (also me this week!), or something else that makes you nervous and uncomfortable, what would it look like for you to embrace risk, to lean into something that challenges you, to feel the fear and do it anyway?
How much courage would it take? I'm over here cheering you on.
Speaking of being live (and on camera! 🙈), I’m doing something I’ve never done before—hosting a FREE 60-minute career-building workshop called, “3 Things You Need to Build + Manage Your Portfolio Career in Music.”
If you're a self-employed musician, teacher, or freelancer, you know that the music world is a crowded place. And it takes more than your musicianship skills and education to stand out.
In this free class, you'll learn how to build a portfolio career in music that allows you to pursue multiple things while maintaining freedom in your time and creative work.