About my favorite thing. Rehearsals.
I love rehearsals. There’s no room for empty words, when the process is in full swing, energy is surging, when your eyes sparkle and everything is going well.
We work… We work, just like a loader in a warehouse, just like an engineer in a factory, just like a race car driver.
Yes, it may be unnoticeable. You might say, “Well, that’s not work in the classic sense.” But I have to disagree. Often, creative work takes much more energy than physical work. There’s no need to complain about this; we get a thrill from it. And how could it be otherwise, if it’s what we love? If it can be done both when it’s bad and when it’s good. If it simultaneously ignites and calms, inspires and excites, harbors both power and weakness.
How can you not love this, how can you not do this?!
For some, a rehearsal is about practicing parts; for others, it’s a chance to be together and create something grand (at their own level). For others, a rehearsal is a treasure trove of new sounds, techniques, voices, and even effects and tones.
For me, a rehearsal is, above all, about energy. There, even when I’m not in shape, I get a charge, I get charged by others and I become myself. A rehearsal, whether it’s a part, a dress rehearsal, or just working on vocals, is like immersing yourself in another world where everything is under your control and clear. Where you can, using your previous experience, control everything, manage long-familiar processes. Here, everything is clear, easy, and simple. You feel “in your element.”
If I’m working on a part, I’m ready to analyze every note and intonation down to the last detail, and I won’t be bored; on the contrary, I’m in my element. I find it boring to do the same thing I’ve done a hundred times. It’s more interesting to invent something new, to find, with the help of other professionals, a new effect, sound, or tone, and combine them into a composition.
Over the past 10 years, I’ve continued to prefer musicians who are similar to me in some way. I feel comfortable and at ease with them, and it’s pleasant to talk about music, discuss parts, work on duets, trios, and so on.
The problem is, when I don’t see myself reflected in someone, I quickly lose interest in them. I no longer care how great an instrumentalist or acclaimed vocalist they are. If they lack that special something, perhaps a unique twist, then I already know we won’t be able to create a worthwhile band. Perhaps with other people, the chances are better.
What else can I say about work?
Yes, I really do work at rehearsals, maybe not 100%, but definitely 80%.
Well, first of all, as much as I love what I do, I have no desire to kill myself. Everything should be done in moderation.
Secondly, even that 80 percent effort is the same as the average person’s 90-100 percent, maybe even 120 percent.
I don’t understand musicians who leave a rehearsal not excited, not sweaty, not warmed up, not sung.
What’s the point of it all then?!
They just show up, strumble dejectedly, yell into the mic, rip their throats out, smoke a couple of times, and that’s it, until next month or whatever happens.
I’m amazed every time I see a dry (literally) drummer, a statue-like vocalist, or apathetic musicians after an HOUR-LONG rehearsal.
Damn, my dears, what were you doing there?
Even chess players, poor things, sweat from mental exertion, or from the high temperature in the hall.
I can’t even imagine how great bands like Pink Floyd, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, or Queen worked so hard during rehearsals. It never happened. All-nighters, alcoholic parties, drug overdoses. It happened. But to behave like that during a sacred rehearsal—no. Otherwise, we would never have known them.
I think that’s enough to cover the topic. Everything is clear to everyone.
I wish you to take rehearsals very seriously. Imagine that this is your last one and that’s it, nothing more will happen.
