In pursuit of perfection

A former boss of mine, Richard Forrest Woods, said that he heard a perfect performance of the Fauré Requiem in his head, but of course, he would never be able to pull it off with a choir. There would always be a blemish somewhere. I suppose that’s true for a lot of people and a lot of pieces.

But how expensive is a blemish, really? And how much should we apologize for hearing a perfect rendition in our head? Who defines “perfect?” And who else cares?

For a soloist, a great way to approach perfection, as defined by the soloist, is to record yourself frequently and listen back. No other feedback is more accurate than hearing a machine reproduce what you just did. Scary, but verrrrry productive, and not all that time-consuming.

I have been known to perform the slow movement of something with score so that I could practice the harder stuff from memory. Of course, much of that is borne from not having enough time to finish everything. But so it goes. I do remember two “perfect” performances of mine. I’d like to have more, but I’m willing to let “perfect” be more elusive while I simply pursue “excellence.” Run the race, the Apostle Paul always used to say.