Reading Between the Staffs
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Kristen Mashikian
Arianna Bacon Photo
It can be an unnoticed noise in the background of a room or the sole reason to beam at a stage for hours, your passion or a simple social endeavor. It can cause both joy and anguish, smiles and tears. The melodies bring past experiences and memories to mind; for example, the song you and your teammates blasted in the locker room before winning the championship game and the “Mozart Concerto in G” you played for college auditions bring back your adrenaline rushes. People often forget that behind the sounds emanating from their stereos are hours of composition and pages of sheet music: music isn’t just sound, it is a language. The black notes are universal symbols understood by people who speak Spanish or French or English, yet each musician has the freedom to cover the staffs with her own personal annotations. The crescendo scribbled into the margin screams “Get louder here!” and the accelerando demands speed, pushing her fingers to their limits. Even the word staccato emphasizes the shortness with which each note should be played. Without each musicians’ graphite notes scrawled across the pages, it is just the same sheet music that millions of other musicians read and play. Music can also be an escape or a path to success. After a long day of school and studying, friends and fights, musicians can retreat to their instruments and sheet music. The laborious process that takes place in the practice rooms is strictly between the musician and herself. Too often an individual’s progress is dependent on others, but not with music. Determination alone can transform musicians and their level of playing. However, music is a torturous pursuit and often causes musicians great agony. After playing the same three notes over and over, they still don’t sound perfect. But can music ever be perfect? Can writing ever be perfect? Can any art be perfect? Every time you play, someone -- a judge, a fellow musician or even you -- will be dissatisfied; and someone reading this paper will always find flaws as well. As hard as you try, it’s always “More expression! More phrasing! Faster! No, not there!” Even the best of the best, the most famous artists in the world, have to continuously strive for impossible perfection. And that’s the irony: it is a futile effort. But the split second before the applause begins, as the faint vibrations of your final note ring through the hall, you feel an unbelievable sense of accomplishment; you are truly proud of yourself. And that feeling makes it all worth it.
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