I don’t feel like I’ve lost
By Georgia Dawson
“If you don’t want to be a first horn player why are you here?”
“To learn where I want to be in the industry and improve my playing, as I love my instrument”
“You’re not the best horn player in the department so maybe just stick to your education work”
“I don’t care that I’m not the best horn player, trying to be the “best” feels like an endless battle, I would prefer to play as well as I can while being happy. I am also a confident educator and that is an equally valid and wonderfully enjoyable career path”
“Why do you actually want to do academic modules? Surely if you wanted to do academia you should have gone to a uni?”
“I can do both…? If conservatoires don’t value academics why do they create and employ doctors of music?”
These are the responses I wish I gave to the (not paraphrased) comments of two professors and a fellow student respectively during my undergrad two years ago. Unfortunately, this is not what I said! I’m pretty sure I got angry, cried, cried again and branded these comments upon my brain, internalising them for a long battle during which I felt like any career other than being a professional orchestral horn player was a failure. Feeling like a failure in my career at 20 was not exactly the best start…
While these comments hurt a LOT, I understand that these individuals were voicing an ongoing mindset: that there is a form of hierarchy in your work as a freelancer. What I would love is if this hierarchy could be MY opinions, not an internalisation of what our industry and degrees value.
In terms of my degree itself, this hierarchy seemed clear: my solo and excerpt exams counted for most of the marks, orchestral rehearsals came before all other commitments (except “professional” (read: orchestral) external work), and my hundreds of hours of education training counted for nothing in terms of credits. Equally, while I highly valued my horn professors, it’s not difficult to notice that instrumental professors at many conservatoires are employed for their performance CV and industry renown, not their pedagogical expertise. Also, if I am taught in a department (almost) entirely of first horn players, what does this imply about the value my alma mater gives to the rest of an orchestral section, west end players, contemporary musicians, chamber players etc etc etc let alone educators or non-performing creatives.
In a psychology lecture where I first voiced my growing anger (supercharged by a 9am Friday slot and lack of caffeine), we looked into a study by Anders K. Ericsson on practice hours which separated violinists into three categories:
· Best - word-class soloists
· Good - professional musicians
· OK - music teachers
Unfortunately for Ericsson, any positives of his study were overshadowed by my fury at his implication that teachers and professional players are distinct categories and that those who teach are automatically worse players. It’s worth mentioning that the majority of the best musicians I know (both now and in my upbringing) teach, not only for reliable income but also out of love for teaching.
Why can’t my own choice to be an educator, academic AND performer be exactly that? A choice. Not a second option or a result of lack of skill. Maybe even a choice based on my skillset in education and academia! My choice to educate also doesn’t immediately make me a worse player. My students remind me to keep learning as a human and a musician. I have made a deliberate choice of where I put my creative energy.
While the pandemic seems to have drawn people’s attention to the positives of work beyond performance (stability, working more directly with communities, variety etc), and many friends comment that they’ve realised they don’t actually gain as much enjoyment from performing in comparison to alternatives, I’ve also had colleagues ask questions such as “when will you go back to performing? Is it picking up again?” and treating teaching, arts admin work or even chamber playing as a placeholder until they “win” an orchestral audition. As someone who adores my balance of educational work and chamber playing, I don’t notice or feel like I’ve “lost” until I compare myself to this commentary. I hated the stress and self-critique that came with 4 hours’ practice a day for pressured and analysed performances at conservatoire, so why would I replicate this pressure by applying for orchestral auditions now? My students are wonderful, my performing projects are more creatively rewarding than playing the Tchaik 5 solo for the millionth time, I play in orchestral projects every now and then, I practice what I want to feel creative and confident, and my work makes me feel valid, appreciated and happy.
More about Georgia
My name is Georgia Dawson (she/her) and I’m a French horn player, educator and love writing too, having studied a masters in ethnomusicology after my performance undergrad. Having struggled with my MH I’m so grateful for supportive spaces like this wonderful community Hattie and Rebecca have formed.