Silent Night Rhumba: Good Enough!

I was able to record and share Jonny May's Silent Night Rhumba on Christmas Day. I’d hoped to have it finished by Christmas Eve, but Christmas Eve itself turned out to be unexpectedly full, and I didn’t get much time at the piano. That familiar feeling followed. I'd had a goal, missed it, and was disappointed.

So I tried again the next morning. I woke up early on Christmas Day (before the kid!) and practiced SNR quietly with headphones. Things felt solid enough. Not perfect, but playable. Good enough to record, I thought.

After presents were opened and the house settled, I went back to the piano and pressed “record.”

I played.

I messed up.

I stopped.

I pressed “record” again.

I messed up again.

Stopped again.

Pressed “record” again.

Banged on the keys.

Pressed “record” again.

Made it half a measure.

Messed up.

Stopped.

Considered crying. (I may have actually cried.)

Such is the part of the process that never makes it into the final video. I know the piece well. My hands know what to do. But pressing that little “record” button does something to me. Every small slip feels like a crash. Every restart drains a little more energy while amping up the anxiety.

By the time I finally captured a take I could live with, I was worn out from trying to capture it at all. We were packed up and ready to drive to North Carolina to spend the rest of the day with family, and I had to decide: post this now, or let it go until after Christmas.

So I posted it.

This is not my greatest performance. It’s a little rushed. I lose the left-hand groove during my solo, and I flub the tremolos. But it’s also bouncy and groovy and cool, and it reflects where this piece actually lives right now in my hands.

Most importantly, Silent Night Rhumba has crossed an invisible line. It’s no longer something I’m learning or polishing. It’s officially a maintenance piece. And that, in my book, is a win.

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Picking Up the Pieces

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