One of my first gigs was accompanying the middle school chorale at Hershey Park when I was 12. After more than a decade of practicing, years of training at Juilliard, and a university education, I have booked a great gig for the spring.

I’m accompanying a school chorus at Six Flags New England.

Now, I might not be moving up in the world of music, but I am genuinely looking forward to this gig. This particular group of public schoolkids voluntarily rehearses before school twice a week and performed at Avery Fisher Hall last year. As a choral singer myself, seeing enthusiastic young choristers always warms my heart.

Unfortunately rehearsing before school means I have to wake up at an ungodly hour. I’ve never been a morning person, but I’ll fake it for a trip to the amusement park!

I’m mentally prepared for rooms that are too cold, rooms that are too hot, pianos that are out of tune, photocopies that are missing bass lines. But sometimes I forget about the quirkiest things of all: people. Several months ago I had an amusing encounter with a teacher whom I was meeting for the first time.

Hi. My name is Eileen.
That’s not your real name.

Excuse me?
That’s not what your parents call you at home. What’s the name they gave you?

My parents named me Eileen. I was born in the U.S.
Oh. You’re a Gringo like me!

(Later in the lesson I had a brief coughing fit.)

Are you sick?
I have a lingering cough from a cold, but I feel fine. It’s just annoying because I can’t sing.

Singers are all hypochondriacs. So are wind players, but not as much.

*   *   *

At the end of the coaching, the teacher said I was quite a good pianist. Alas, “quite good hypochondriac Gringo pianist” does not fit on a business card!

The March issue of the Juilliard Journal has an interesting opinion column by Ara Guzelimian, dean and provost of The Juilliard School. Guzelimian addresses the broad skill set that the current generation of musicians must possess to succeed.

A successful artist must be, first and foremost, a superb practitioner of their art—that hasn’t changed. But a successful artist in the 21st century also needs to be an effective communicator, advocate, entrepreneur, administrator, and wholly engaged participant in a broader community.

He then goes on to question whether typical performance auditions fail to identify students’ holistic potential.

Most, but not all, music auditions still faithfully follow a traditional model of required audition repertoire, with an opportunity to interview or explore a student’s interests at the faculty panel’s discretion. It may be valuable to ponder carefully how this process can evolve further.

I’ve heard throughout my life various formulas for success: 30% talent + 30% hard work + 40% luck, for example. No matter the formula, talent is always a smaller, albeit essential, slice of the pie.

Is it acceptable for schools to screen for talent only and let the real world take care of the rest? What training can schools provide to develop the auxiliary skills that contemporary artists need?

It’s hard to believe it’s been more than 100 days since I became a full-time musician. I’ve been working my butt off, but I don’t regret a single minute of it.

I love:
Learning every day
Working with musicians
The music

I don’t love:
Practicing (see Can’t I Just Practice Tomorrow?)
The irregularity of work
The pay

I never thought I would:
Play the organ at Mechanics Hall
Play from open score (It still hurts my brain, but I can do it.)
Write a blog that people read

New things I’ve tried:
Vocal coaching
Diction coaching
Choral directing

I should:
Practice singing more (The day isn’t long enough, I swear.)
Learn to play from figured bass
Find summer gigs

I’m thankful for:
My husband and his unconditional support
Faculty who believe in me, hire me, and refer me
Brahms

I’m considering:
Grad school
Teaching
Going back to the cubicle

Last night my husband and I were discussing what it meant to interpret and polish a piece of music. As a non-musician, he didn’t understand why one couldn’t achieve perfection by playing a score accurately. Doesn’t the score have detailed instructions from the composer — notes, dynamics, tempo, all those funny symbols? If two musicians are following the same instructions, why would their performances be different?

I struggled to explain the nuances of musicality, but I finally came up with the right analogy. If Morgan Freeman and I read the same story, the content will be identical. We’ll observe the words and punctuation in the same sequence. However, Morgan Freeman’s narration will be different from mine because of the way he emphasizes certain words and syllables, the pacing of his speech, and the inflection from his emotions. We can both deliver 100% accurate readings with very different results.

“That’s a good analogy,” my husband said. “You should blog about it.”