"And, you know, I think the original recording of Ravel's Bolero, probably whoever played percussion on that, will never have it played better than that." (Buddy Rich)
~ Philip Howie on the drum performance in Ravel's Bolero ~
The first minute or so is incredibly nerve-wracking. You’re playing close to the limit of your ability - literally as quietly as you can play. Each stroke must be carefully controlled, because it will be obvious to everyone if one doesn’t sound properly.
Somewhere around the third or fourth woodwind solo, you start to relax a little. You’re playing at a comfortable - if still very quiet - dynamic, and you’re still feeling fairly fresh and alert. At the same time, you’re constantly questioning your playing. You’re intensely aware that once you’ve increased your dynamic, you can’t go backwards, and you’ve got a long way to go. You don’t get a lot of help from the conductor.
Several minutes of tedium follow. Here, the challenge is to stay focused on the music. Your mind starts to drift. It’s very easy to lose concentration and realize halfway through a bar that you have no idea whether you should be playing the first or the second bar of the repeating pattern. The conductor ignores you completely.
Somewhere around the seven or eight minute mark, you notice that your nose is itching. Or there’s something in your shoe. Or the hall is really hot and you’re starting to sweat uncomfortably. Or you have a touch of cramp in your leg. Or your left stick isn’t in the perfect position in your hand. There’s literally nothing you can do about it, and you still have five minutes of this to go. You spend at least a minute trying not to think about it.
Into the closing minutes though, something else takes over. You’re no longer playing within that comfortable dynamic range, in which you spend 98% of your playing life. The music is starting to get really LOUD. Your technique is being tested in a different direction. You may have a lot more company than in those opening few bars - and even a friendly second drummer - but you’re once again feeling incredibly exposed.
The last two bars of the piece are the most terrifying part of the whole experience, because you have a rest of about a beat and a half. For the first time since you started the piece (about an hour and a half ago, by your recollection) you are not the one in control, and whether or not you land that final downbeat with the rest of the orchestra is entirely in the hands of the conductor.
Your colleagues in the percussion section gently pry your sticks out of your grasp and turn you round to face the rapturous applause. You’ve joined an elite group. You feel drawn out and used. It was worth it.