Friendly Competition

Last week I played an orchestra cycle with a symphony where I am principal 2nd violin. I've been in this position for the past year and subbed into this position several times before that. I've played with the conductor for many years and have played countless gigs with the concertmaster and other principal string players. It is a situation where I normally feel confident, at-ease, and happy.

This past week, I had a new stand partner and a new person sitting to my right as assistant concertmaster. I happened to have heard both these two new violinists' auditions and so I knew they were both fabulous and confident players. As we played through the first rehearsal, there was a weird dynamic as the four of us tried to figure out how to play together: we struggled a bit with keeping the same tempo and phrasing, with different people each asserting their own ideas about the music. I was intimidated and thus held back, second guessing myself and deferring to my stand partner, assuming that she was right with her interpretation of the conductor's beat (even though she was new) and with her entrances (even though she was also essentially sight-reading).

I should be clear that both these ladies are lovely and no one was trying to create a power struggle. It is also possible I was the only one who felt the push and pull. Nevertheless, that first rehearsal was a bit confusing for me and made me feel insecure.

I thought back to a moment several years ago where I was sitting concertmaster for an orchestra cycle at my undergraduate school, and I knew there were several capable players behind me. I wilted a bit and my lack of confidence became apparent. My teacher approached me and said, there is a reason we placed you concertmaster and it is not because you go to this school. She instilled confidence in me so that I would act like the leader she was expecting me to be.

I thought about that comment a lot last week during rehearsals, remembering that this conductor had also hand-selected me for the position I was in. I gradually found it easier to trust myself and to provide leadership. As I did so, and as we all learned to trust one another, that power struggle disappeared and we started playing together beautifully.

As I was driving to a gig last Saturday morning, I was listening to Boston Public Radio's Innovation Hub and their program on competition. There was a quote that grabbed my attention and helped everything click into place:

"Women assume on average that their opponents are as good as or better than them."

As a musician, it can unfortunately be easy to fall into looking at each of your colleagues as a sort of friendly opponent. After all, we see one another at auditions and in a way compete against one another for that one open chair. It is important in these situations to feel confident so that you can do your best. I, however, definitely fall into that trap of thinking probably everyone at the audition is better than I am and so I should just go home and not even bother.

The profession is one that continuously pits us against one another but then expects us to make great art together. We are ranked in chairs according to our audition five years ago, or the conductor's perception of us from the podium, or the concertmaster's whim, or some other bizarre combination of elements that we might never understand. In some of the orchestras I play in, I'm never certain if I'll be in the front or the back of the section, if where I am seated means anything or is just random, or what it means when subs are slotted in ahead of me as a contracted player. I try not to let it bother me, but it is there. At the same time, we must play together as a team, united with the common goal of making great music and moving our audiences. And generally, these people become our friends and we enjoy working and playing together.

Last week was a really important reminder. Yes, those other two violinists are very good. That does not mean however that I am by default very bad. There is room for lots of excellence in the world. Let me continue to strive for my own.

(My conclusion made me remember my friend Sarah's post about jealousy, which is very good and much more eloquent.)