ENDA Episode 142→ The time when ENDA faced stage fright (Part 5)
A full version of a 90s anime opening. Beautiful to hear. Insane to play. Why? It required four keyboards...
After finally pulling off a successful duet with a singer, I thought the hardest part was behind me. But life, as always, had other plans.
The next recital in August 2019 reused that same duet piece, along with three other songs where I’d play supporting instruments. So far, so normal, until a certain song was chosen.
A full version of a 90s anime opening. Beautiful to hear. Insane to play. Why? It required four keyboards.
It was not an exaggeration. Listen closely and you’ll notice three pianos playing together, with a fourth chiming in during key moments. Naturally, this became a piano duet.
My pianist friend (also the group’s music leader) and I knew we’d need extra rehearsals due to the song’s speed and rhythm complexity, not to mention figuring out how to set up four keyboards close together.
In the end, the plan was: My friend would handle both synths, I’d play the main piano and one of the percussionists would step in with the fourth when needed
But make no mistake: 90% of the song fell on our shoulders.
To prepare, I had to apply everything I’d learned up to that point, not just reading chords, but syncing tightly with the rest of the band. And for once, I wasn’t afraid. Every rehearsal was fun. And that’s when I remembered what my pianist friend told me during our first recital:
“When I play, I don’t think. I just have fun.”
And now, I finally understood what he meant.
The day of the recital came. Every song, including my piano and supporting performances, went smoothly. I didn’t feel overwhelmed, not even once.
But the big moment was saved for the end: the 4-piano closer.
So when the moment came, I sat in front of the piano, my pianist friend next to me with both keyboards set in front of him, and then the music started. Everything went smoothly… until the saxophone missed its cue. The bridge came, and no sax was on.
But we didn’t freeze. We kept playing. Repeated a few bars, extended the groove. The sax picked it up and launched into the solo. We locked back in.
The final stretch was the most intense: fast, chaotic, and thrilling. But when we landed the last notes, the room burst into applause.
And I felt no panic. Only joy.
That night, I finally conquered my stage fright.
Takeaway:
Thanks to these experiences, I no longer fear standing in front of a crowd. Whether it's presenting, pitching, or defending my work, I don't freeze. Why? Because if I survived live performances with all eyes on me and four keyboards going off at once, I doubt anything else can overwhelm me.
That final moment was one of the best I’ve ever had performing live.
The other? It came two years later... with a goodbye.
Curious already? Well, that’s for another episode.
The journey continues…
Comments