After a while I thought, 'I know this, I need to work on the blitzen part,' and my brain neatly switched over to that one and kept it on continuous replay. In fact, by thinking about it, I just started on it again.
I went to sleep last night replaying the first movement because it was the last thing we did in rehearsal--that always happens to me, unless I carefully listen to something else before I crawl into bed. I woke up this morning on the soprano solo that kicks off the second half. Did my brain play through the entire first half while I slept? You decide.
My brain doesn't know all the words, only the ones I've learned already because I've sung them, and some bits of aria and recit that are relevant to choral music that follows. But the music seems to be there. All of it. I'm still going to listen to the second half obsessively, because we've only just begun working on it, and being able to play through it in your brain is not the same as having it in your voice. It's like the difference between just reading through something and reading something which you then discuss with others.
As of Friday, one month to performance.
David conducted a couple performances of Walton's "Belshazzar's Feast" over the weekend. Both nights, he broke his stick, not in a normal way, (like rapping it on the stand) but by stabbing himself in the shoulder with it on an upbeat. Both nights, it broke at the same place in the music. He said the first night, his singers didn't even notice his stick had become a splintery stub, and thought he switched to his bare hands for some obscure artistic reason. The next night, they were watching like hawks. He was glad he wasn't conducting us because he said we would have seen it, and laughed loudly. Probably true. We laugh a lot.
Good quote from last night: "That was fantastic. Ish."