The Inner Game of Inner Games

May 15, 2007 on 7:58 pm by Michael Grey | In Tips | 2 Comments

I’ve always held that piping, especially solo piping, is one huge massive headgame – played often by those of us with huge massive heads.

First, by “headgame” (and really it should read “head game”, but I like the diagnostic certainty implied by writing one word) I mean psychological “self talk”: ambiguity, uneasiness and worry all rolled up in one tidy ill-timed inner conversation.

No matter how prepared I am for an event – competition, recital, whatever – I am always amazed at what I allow to happen on the sidelines; by sidelines I mean inside my big square head.

Take my most recent competitive endeavour: last Saturday’s Livingstone Invitational contest.Based on my experience I’d say I was pretty prepared. I’d practiced well. I’d done all the things I know to be good preparation. But, whoa … the chatter inside my head would surely alert the dullest of CIA operatives.

A (seriously) condensed play-by-play went something like this:

Pibroch – His Father’s Lament for Donald MacKenzie – Ground, line 2: “what is that guy in the front row saying to his friend? I bet he doesn’t even know the pibroch. Why is he talking? Etc.

Variation 1, singling: “I love this variation. It would be great played with harmony in a pipe band. The judges look bored. Don’t look at the judges”

Taorluath Singling: “Judge John MacKenzie (in evening dress) looks like John M MacKenzie’s photo from the cover of his book – wow – same names…he should judge more often.”

Taorluath Doubling: Guy coughing up a storm in the front row: “Stop it for gawd sakes … Will the judges let me play again if I break down? …

Crunluath Singling & Doubling: “for fucksakes, hold that first note longer idiot”

The light music in the evening was similarly weird – or weirder. I won’t bore you with details.

Anyway, good preparation can be a funny thing in a competition and a double-edged blade: on the one hand, you know your stuff; on the other: you know your tunes so well complex performance-intrusive thoughts happen in tandem with the show. Surely, what ends up happening is a a testament to the wonders of the human mind and body.

You’ll know, I’m sure, that there’s a book around, “The Inner Game of Music”. I’ve never managed to get into it – and I have tried. It always seemed too analytical, just too much of a muchness, full of all that intuitive common sense we (me) associate with self-help books. Anyway, it’s on my bookshelf. I think I will have a good look inside. Who knows.

So, while I must admit, much of what happens in the mind in mid-performance puzzles me, I have to say: without any reservation, practice and rehearsal is everything.

M.