College Essay On Becoming A Soloist

I never thought that I’d care about sports in my high school. Throughout my childhood, I accepted that I had sold my soul to the devil that is musical theatre; it wasn’t until I attended Thomas Jefferson high school that I realized the heartache that would come with that decision. The only problem I have with my high school is that it is sport focused, and could show more love towards the theatre department. Not only has the school spent money updating the sports equipment and gymnasiums, but it continues to neglect the deteriorating stage that gets used and rented out by many dance competitions, concerts, and play productions.

I came to realize that playing music can bring someone great fortune. I had no plans for the future, no goals, nor dreams before I starting my path in music. I never wondered without direction. But one day, good fortune came to me. A fortune I would have never of thought of. It was The Gracias choir and music. I was thinking to myself “I have never been so happy nor have I had so much enjoyment to live. To have an open mind to people around the world by delivering my heart threw my music. It looks like a dream!"

Ever since I was a young kid, I was extremely fond of music. Music was all around me: on the television, in school, at the store, and especially in the car. Not only did I love to listen to music, but I loved to play it as well. I am not saying I was any good at playing music, because I was not. But to a young child, hitting their hand on anything could be music, and to me it definitely was.

We had practiced every day from sunrise till sunset almost relentlessly. We wrapped up the week with a concert to perform our pieces that we had so strenuously prepared. The men’s chorus was to perform after the women and then the concert would be wrapped up by the mixed choir. After the women’s choir was done, my fellow men’s choir members and I entered onto the stage tensions higher than ever. Once we were all in our positions Dr. Johnson stepped onto the conducting platform and raised his hands to give us the cue. Just as we were all preparing ourselves he looked up and in a big southern grin mouthed the words “you guys got this, have fun”. I almost laughed out loud it was so out of character. Instantly my high nerves were gone and I was totally immersed in my surroundings. In that split second before Dr. Johnson threw his hands down I saw it. We were all here for one purpose. We were all here to better ourselves. All the pieces slid into place. We were like a beautiful mosaic, every piece connected, everybody was important. Than with a flourish of passion Dr. Johnson’s hands came down like a lightning bolt. The choir answered back with a roaring of thunder that made my hair stand up on the back of my neck. I could feel it. That feeling of overwhelming accomplishment rush through me and we were not even finished with the first phrase. Throughout the performance as we slid back and forth between raw intensity and soft serenity I started to sweat. The sweat overwhelmed me to the point that it was dripping off of my chin into my sheet of music blurring the notes and markings on the page. The sweat was not from me being nervous, but was from how hard I was pushing myself. It seems weird that standing in one place could make me sweat that much, but I think I hit the point in which the saying “push yourself to the limit” was actually

The music started playing like I’ve heard before time and time again, morning practice after morning practice. In that moment I wanted to win. We deserved to win no matter what size of band we were, we worked to get into finals and I wanted to put on the best performance of the season. I took my first step into my spot on the squishy turf field and did what I’ve done multiple times before. Next thing I know I’m in my position on the field playing my last chord of our performance feeling utterly exhausted and like I’ve just ran a marathon. I felt like we all gave it everything we had and then the crowd stands up and gives us a standing ovation. It was the most incredible feeling I had ever gotten. At that moment everything seemed worth it, all of the six a.m. practices, the two weeks of band camp, running through the same sets over and over again in the ninety degree weather. Everything seemed like it wasn’t that bad, I didn’t want to be anywhere else in that moment. Then I heard the snare drum, amongst all of the applause, leading us off of the field. Once we were off everybody was tearing up and saying that they gave that performance all they had. Now all we had to do was wait until all of the others were done performing until we could figure out what we got. It was pure torture

Ever since I stepped foot in my high school band program, I aspired to exceed my band director’s expectations and be able to perform to the best of my ability as a member of such a successful program. My band director has always been, and remains to this day, an exceptional

I danced for 12 years at a professional ballet company. Five of those years, I trained under the instruction of a director named Elie. He yelled incessantly, was bad-tempered, and could make a room full of people cry faster than you would ever think possible. However, despite his shortcomings, Elie was a brilliant instructor.

I had already been a clarinet player three years prior from joining marching band, so I had to use my credibility as a competent player to show my directors that I could be trusted with the higher level music being given and anything else they throw at me. The directors decision to move me up to the advanced band class and had me learn

On the evening of Sunday, December 16, 2012, I had the pleasure of attending a concert I’d wanted to see for quite a while. I was delighted to attend Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, performed by the Richmond Symphony Orchestra and the Richmond Ballet. The performance took place at Carpenter Theatre in Richmond Virginia. As I entered I felt a bit out of place. I’d never attended a performance quite like this one and I was a bit nervous. I took my seat to the left of the orchestra pit. I was thrilled to see how close I was. I had arranged for a seat near the orchestra so I could observe them as they played.

Standing on stage behind The Philadelphia Orchestra, I peered into the empty auditorium. The red velvet-lined seats were plush; the crown molding was elegant and classic. As I stood on the stage of Carnegie Hall’s Isaac Stern Auditorium, I wished I had smuggled my camera onstage to capture the scene from my vantage point as some of my fellow choristers of The Philadelphia Singers had done. Here I was, at the mere age of twenty-five, performing on the same stage as musical greats such as Enrico Caruso, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Yo-Yo Ma, Joni Mitchell, and Itzhak Perelman. In the moment I felt scared and excited, and unsure I even deserved to be there.

My teachers once said to me “There are no wrong notes but how you play them, the feelings you put in and how you play them in time. It’s all about your timing.” This advice has stayed with me the most and looking back over the last year I can see that timing is everything not just in music.

‘’Faith Cannizzo on cello performing Bach’s Courante in G major.” My ears fill with the clapping of the audience signally it is time to be blinded by the bright spotlight. Holding my cello in one hand and my bow in the other I cannot help but feel like my fifth grade self-holding my instrument for the first time.

I sat in my basement in front of 5 chairs, 6 music stands, and a piano. What if no one shows up? Like any other nervous musician, these thoughts constantly rushed through my head. The doorbell finally rang. One of the musicians showed up with a bass. We had to lug it into the basement, but we managed. I was a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth in the basement. There wasn’t much talking between us. Suddenly, more and more high school students came down with their instruments. My peers stared at me holding their instruments, expecting leadership. After I introduced myself, I was eager to start rehearsing the piece. I recall exactly how it felt the moment my baton reached the first downbeat. My heart may have matched the tempo of the piece. Suddenly the orchestra started to play and I smiled. It wasn’t perfect; It was only a first run-through. I knew I had work to do.

I have played trumpet since I was in fourth and when it came time to enter high school it also came time to put my efforts into auditioning for district band. This is a long, strenuous process that starts six months before the actual audition. My success with this first audition came as a shock. Most people perform poorly simply because it is their first time auditioning. However, I had received a brilliant score, a spot in district band, and all the praise and confidence that comes with it. The experience was motivating and I knew I would do anything to be a part of it year after year.

That night we arrived at Orchestra hall. Our parents went one way and we went upstairs down a long corridor that connected to the upper seats. We left all our things in the corridor, along the walls with every other player from every other orchestra’s things. After taking our seats, the show began. We were fourth, so we got to listen to the first two groups and prepared while the third group played. Subsequently, we left our seats and walked downstairs, backstage, to a small room where we practiced for five minutes. We put our bows