Einspringen
Einspringen. Using previous musical experience as an anchor to position yourself voluntarily and very last minute at the center of a tornado, to ensure a performance can still take place when someone falls ill. I had this experience recently, jumping in for a role I had performed several times before, in Thomas Adès’s opera Powder Her Face. Einspringen is an excellent opportunity for singers to exercise the muscles of improvisation, flexibility and hyperfocus. I have to say, there is nothing like jumping in to an unfamiliar production to offer an invaluable (though not entirely risk-free) perspective on one of the fundamental principles of acting, reinforcing stage performance as if everything is happening for the very first time! Whether the end result deems you Samaritan or scapegoat, a creative team is both extremely grateful and extremely inconvenienced to have you there.
For me, another paradox of being in this field, is that as much as music performance is a vital social service to culture and community, in order to facilitate the continuation of beloved musical works to be celebrated beyond our lifetime, much less within a single performance season, there needs to be a certain degree of expendability among performers. Undoubtedly, an artist is not inspired to be their most creative, if the narrative is that everyone is easily replaceable; neither does it serve their business model very well. Furthermore, I don't think it is egocentric for a performer to want their individual contribution to be valued, despite the art form being largely a group effort. No matter how ambitious or humble one is, the greater risk is in the vulnerability towards exploitation for that very reason. Though this also begs the question: is the endeavor itself truly meaningful if everyone within a project is expendable?
Neither the reminder that one is replaceable, nor the wish for our participation to be appreciated, create an artistic result, when it comes to real time performance. So that musicians do not appear on stage as if we are only subconsciously trying to prove ourselves, I suppose then, that one must contend with such contradictions during downtime, (or, as in my case, within the context of a Substack post).
Certainly one of the major inspirations for and benefits of being a musician is in the opportunity to participate in something that will long outlive us; something that is greater than ourselves, and in turn provides a sense of being an essential part of a larger community. At the same time, simply from a business perspective, soloists might feel inclined to impose themselves within a project, in a manner that distinguishes them as separate, above and therefore irreplaceable— in order to generate more work by creating perceived need. Whatever one’s standing, occasional illness and crises are inevitable, and it then becomes the next performer’s responsibility to step in to make it work.
Musings such as these lead me again to wonder whether the core of this paradox is related to the anxiety of the human ego regarding mortality. That is not a very satisfying thought, as it suggests to me that music performance— or anything else for that matter— is simply a distraction from the inevitability of our physical demise. If that happens to be the case, at the very least, it can provide the momentum and gratitude to “ride the wave”, however it may surge towards you!
I am just a copy of a copy of a copy
Everything I say has come before
Assembled into something, into something, into something
I don't know for certain anymore
I am little pieces of little pieces of little pieces
Pieces that were picked up on the way
Imprinted with a purpose, with a purpose, with a purpose
A purpose just become quite clear today
Look what you had to start
Why all the change of heart?
You need to play your part
A copy of a copy of a...
And look what you've gone and done
Well, that doesn't sound like fun
See, I'm not the only one
Copy of A, Nine Inch Nails