patience

I cannot BELIEVE how much mental agony it has cost me to make the decision about the choro camp! It seemed to tap into some deeply searing dilemma about how fast, or rather how slowly, I have been progressing musically.

The decision was just: What should I do this week - go to choro camp and work on pandeiro, stay in Rio and continue working on caixa/surdo/repinique, or maybe go to Recife and work on maracatu? Seems like an easy enough choice, 3 good options. But - next thing I knew I was in a full-fledged Musical Confidence Crisis. One of those terrible downward spirals when you start to think: This has all been a terrible mistake. I can't play anything. I'll never be any good. Why did I think I could ever really be a musician? I should just give up and go home, wherever "home" is, anyway, and stop trying to play Brazilian music, and forget about Brazil.

I've been hanging out this week with a lot of pro musician friends who pick things up about a hundred times faster than I do. They come zipping into town for a few weeks, seem to already have a million more friends here than I've managed to make in four months, and seem to absorb everything at lightspeed - choro, pagode, candomble, maracatu, escolas, everything - while I still struggle, after months and months here, to just play escola samba halfway decently. It's making me feel a little panicky! No FAIR, I want to say, you should have to struggle like I do! It doesn't help when they cavalierly dismiss what I've been doing: "Who've you been playing with?" (I start to list my groups, and don't get past the first word, which is "Monobloco") - "Let me tell you about Monobloco. They don't play good samba. They play bad samba. I'll tell you why." [continue with rant against Monobloco for five minutes. Finally move on to next group] "Bangala-what? Banga-what? Never heard of them. They can't be any good." [continuing] "Who have you been studying with? Why them? You should be studying with my friend, HE'S the best tamborim player you'll ever see. Your other teacher can't possibly play as good. You should have studied with so-and-so. You should have taken more lessons. You should have...."

All the things I have done and struggled for and worked so hard for started to seem like nothing much.

I haven't learned enough, haven't improved enough. I only have a few weeks left, and I'm running out of money. Soon I have to go back to work, to my old life, biology, to make some money again. It won't be for forever - but it reminds me that I'm not "a real musician", not a pro - as those friends keep reminding me. Just an amateur. I don't even want to be a pro musician, not really, but I really DO want to play like one. And I still don't.

In this frame of mind, I went to the Sambodromo to see Unidos da Tijuca and got completely drenched in a horrible thunderous downpour. Well... I had to leave anyway to get to Monobloco on time, so I gave up on Unidos da Tijuca (damn! I really wanted to see them!) and went to Monobloco, but security would not let me in the door. The security guys told me "You have to wait out here until maybe somebody from Monobloco comes out to vouch for you." I couldn't understand anybody's Portuguese. It took almost fifteen minutes just to convey that I did NOT want to buy a ticket, I am IN THE BATERIA. No, I do NOT want to buy a ticket, I am PLAYING CAIXA IN THE BATERIA and I NEED TO GET IN!!!! NO, I DO NOT WANT TO BUY A TICKET! Finally they understood, reluctantly (how can an American tourist be in the Monobloco bateria?) but they still wouldn't let me in.

It was raining unbelievably hard by now, howling, monsoon rain, and I got completely, utterly sopping wet. I huddled under the security guys' umbrella, waiting for the mythical Monobloco person who they said would come out sooner or later, but nobody ever came out.

They were actually very nice guys. They were concerned about me getting wet, and seemed especially concerned that I was alone ("Don't you have any friends? Where are your friends? You're not here alone, are you?"). But they still wouldn't let me in. An eternity went by. The rain got even more ferocious. After a string of cell calls I finally reached Junior, the tamborim leader, who told me the secret way in (a side entrance through a parking lot). I guess all the other bateria members knew this somehow. (I am still perpetually at risk of missing a key announcement in rehearsals, due to the language barrier; and I think they've never remembered to put me on their email list; I think I must have missed an announcement about the email list, due to the language barrier....)

I got in at last, but was dispirited and tired and hungry and cold. Squelched around backstage in my wet shoes for an hour. Ate a cold cheese sandwich (all they had). Did not succeed at talking to anybody; the dj music in the background was too loud for me to follow anyone's Portuguese.

In this frame of mind, I played the first Monobloco show of the Carnaval season. Midnight to 4am. I felt I wasn't playing well. I did ok but was still having to fudge some things at fast tempos. I was very displeased with myself. It was discouraging: I think my caixa playing is still not good enough. It does not meet my standards.

I didn't get to bed till 6am and woke up past 2pm. Still exhausted and still unsure about whether I need to work more on caixa or pandeiro... whether to even try.... Musical Confidence Crisis suddenly in full flower. Should I go to choro camp, where I will suck at pandeiro? Or stay in Rio, where I will suck at caixa? That terrible sense of time running out.

I talked to two friends today about it all, and both immediately asked, "How long have your pro friends been drumming?" About fifteen years. "How long have you been drumming?" Three years. Yeah... okay, I know. Patience. Don't be so hard on yourself. Patience. Though one friend did add the deadly words "You have to accept that you are 41. It's never going to be for you like it is for the boys who start when they are young. You have to accept your limits."

In the end the decision was: no choro camp. Basically because choro happens all year; but Carnaval only happens now. And I have commitments to Banga, Monobloco, Sao Clemente, Mocidade, connections growing, bonds growing, that I don't want to drop. I don't want to get scattered all over, trying to do everything all at once, making a hundred half-friends and never getting to know any of them, starting a hundred instruments and never mastering any of them. I'll stay with my groups in Rio. Maybe one weekend in Recife, because Carnaval is happening there too. But as my dad reminded me: there will be time for pandeiro later. There will be time. I hope. I am starting to lose faith but I will just set aside the worries for now and just let Carnaval happen.