The First Recital
The lesson in overcoming the nerves of public performance
9/23/20262 min read
Whether you're still performing today or it's a chapter of your past, most people can vividly recall their first-ever recital or major performance. Check out my brother in the photo above, getting ready for his first piano recital, dressed to the nines in a full mini tuxedo.
My first recital is one of my earliest memories. I was five years old, similarly dressed in my finest button-up shirt but with slightly less formal bleached jeans and sneakers. We were in the car on the way to the recital hall, about 45 minutes from home — we'd recently moved away from my teacher's studio, so this was already a bit of a trek.
Halfway there, my mother realized she'd forgotten my sheet music. Chaos ensued. How would I play without it? How could she have forgotten? "This is too much pressure!" my dad exclaimed from the driver's seat. It was too late to turn back, so we pressed on and hoped for the best. At the very least, I could watch the other performers.
And watch I did. As I sat through the other students' pieces, a quiet confidence started to build. I looked up at my mom, gave a gentle tug on her dress, and said, "I don't need the music." My name was called soon after. I walked up to the piano, feet dangling above the pedals, and played my piece note for note — I skipped the repeat, but no one in the audience seemed to notice. I looked out at the crowd, found my parents, and beamed with pride.
That's where my love of performing music for a crowd began.
Why Recitals Still Make Us Nervous — Even as Adults
A recital can be an overwhelming bundle of nerves for musicians of any age, and I won't pretend those nerves have left me as an adult. Every teacher on our team has performed on stages of every size, all over the world, and we all recognize that same flutter of anticipation before walking out. I understand, logically, that the nerves are just my body's way of telling my mind how much I care about the outcome — but understanding that doesn't always calm me down.
The Reward on the Other Side of Nerves
On the other side of those nerves is something worth celebrating. You step on stage and share something you've put real work, attention, and love into. In doing that, you share a piece of yourself — and you're heard, all at once, by a room full of people. Performing music, or any art, is a vulnerable act. It takes a certain bravery to walk through that vulnerability, and doing so teaches you something about who you are.
What We Love About Teaching Toward Recital Day
One of the best parts of teaching is watching our students discover, often for the first time, what they're capable of. The pride I felt at five years old is the same pride I now get to witness from the other side — supporting our students as they work toward their own first moment of accomplishment on stage.
At Lesson with Luke, our Brooklyn-based guitar and piano teachers build that confidence one lesson at a time, so that by recital day, our students — as I did all those years ago — realize they don't need anything but themselves and the music they've learned to shine.
And of course, we always have brownies at the end.
Ready to take the stage for yourself or a loved one? Book a trial lesson with Lesson With Luke today.
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