The Sunday Musician

Phil walked backstage, said, "AGH!!  I'm never going to sing again," and stood wringing his hands.  "And Jackson specifically asked for that song, too.  I can't believe that just happened."

"What happened?" I asked.  I'd been at the piano the entire song, never heard a bad note.

"What happened?" he said, his look accusing me of playing dumb to prolong his agony.  I wasn't, but it was a fair accusation.  "I forgot all the words.  That's what happened."

Lisa, sitting nearby, said it sounded fine to her.  Somebody else said the same thing. 

"You guys are kidding me, right?"

"What part did you forget?" asked Emily, sitting in one of the metal folding chairs nearest the propane heater.

"The whole song.  I forgot the words to the whole song.   I started out okay, but half way through the first verse I forgot the lyrics.  I made up something that rhymed, and then at the chorus I was okay.  I started panicking, thinking I'd forget the second verse, but I know from experience that usually you just open your mouth and the words are there.  They weren't.  I made up an entire second verse.  Made it up.  And then the chorus was fine, and then I made up the entire third verse too.  That was the longest three minutes of my entire life."

Piano players don't have this problem, at least those of us who can 'wing it'.  Playing something 'almost right' is usually undetectable.  I felt for him.  Jackson, who had specifically requested the song (saying it was a favorite of his, and would go great with his sermon), was our guest speaker that day, the pastor of a sister church here in Holland.  A colleague of sorts, someone Phil would run into at JP's Coffee in the afternoon. 

Immediately after the sermon Phil walked right out onstage and apologized to Jackson, reporting this conversation:

"Jackson, I'm really, really sorry about the song.  I don't know what happened.  I know it's your favorite song, and I blew it.  I'm usually better than that."

"Sounded fine to me.  What went wrong?"

"What went wrong?  I forgot all the words and made up all three verses, that's what went wrong."

"Well, it sounded fine to me, buddy," Jackson said, and slapped Phil on the shoulder.

If I was Phil, I'd have been a little angry.  I think he was, actually.  It was obvious that no one was really listening.  I'd heard nothing at the piano, and the words were right in front of me.  Em, one of our singers listening backstage and watching on the monitor noticed nothing.  Nobody from the audience made any indication they'd heard an error, and the guy who'd requested the song specifically, saying it was his favorite, was pleased as punch.  There's a lesson in here somewhere.