So the fifth anniversary of 9/11 is over. The special ecumenical service at the cathedral is over. The world premiere of the cantata we sang is over.
I think it went well. I think some people found it moving, or healing ... I didn't lose anyone in 9/11, but I think people found what they were looking for. I hope so, anyway.
The cathedral was packed with photographers. Well, OK, not packed. But I'm not used to seeing photographers in a church snapping away during the service. Maybe a single photographer at a wedding, but that's it. Tonight we had about a dozen, plus videographers.
Isn't that always the way? My biggest Norma Desmond "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille" moment and it wasn't about me.
And speaking of my admittedly petty concerns (but whose blog is it, anyway?) I'm just glad that the biggest musical flub of the evening wasn't my fault. That blown entrance? I was totally ready to make it, I really was. In fact, the whole choir was. But the accompanists had a difference of opinion as to which measure we were at. So in case anyone noticed anything sounding off? Totally the organist's fault.
I realize this whole entry is is revealing to the world exactly what a self-centered, selfish pig I really am--something I have been trying to conceal for over two years of blogging. But the performers out there will know what I'm talking about. When you sing in a choir, you can't just experience the service; you're constantly thinking about what comes next. My job at events like this is to project an emotion, not feel it myself.
And that's OK. It just means I have to take time off from thinking about 9/11 in order to think about music. I have to take some other time to think about 9/11. And that's OK. Unfortunately for us all, 9/11 isn't going anywhere.
Damn you, 9/11. In so many ways.