Debbie Reynolds Flute Lessons

I’m obsessed! https://www.instagram.com/reel/DTgobKzDqc9/?igsh=MTg5cG9uYTd6b2do

⭕️🎶

I have a young piano student who had stage fright for a few years. His Mom, Temi Bolaji-Jegede Temitope BJ, just wrote a fantastic children’s book about how he overcame his fear and played in our concerts last year. I feel so honoured to be a part of the story, and to be part of this very special student’s life. The book is available on Amazon.

Mes élèves interprètent une fabuleuse pièce de Momo Sakura intitulée Chocolate Revenge ! My students performing a fabulous piece by Momo Sakura called Chocolate Revenge!

A few of my sweet piano students at our spring recital last weekend! We were thrilled to be able to hold our recital at St James Hall once again. Thanks to Adriana for the beautiful photos.

Photos of my some of my flute students at our concert last weekend!

Loved this post about performance anxiety. Perfect as this is concert day for my students!

Dear Flutist, Flautist, and Beautifully Human Performer,

It has come to my attention (and not for the first time) that behind every glorious low B, every shimmering arpeggio, and every standing ovation, there often lies… a small, internal panic attack.

Yes, my dear breath-bending comrades, we must talk of that most silent saboteur: performance anxiety. It is the uninvited guest at every recital, lurking in the wings with clammy hands and an overactive imagination. And worse, it arrives without even RSVPing.

Now, if you are among the fortunate few who stride onto the stage with the swagger of a rockstar and the pulse of a Zen master, congratulations. Kindly skip ahead and go polish your medals. For the rest of us, the many flute players who have, at some point, questioned if we still remember which end of the flute to blow into, this letter is for you.

You see, I know performance anxiety intimately. It’s been my loyal companion since the days when my hair was less silver and my knees didn’t creak like old music stands.

It was the summer of 1990 and playing the Ibert Concerto in the beautiful Cathedral in Jaca, Spain, I remember walking on to the stage only to find my fingers transformed into rogue spaghetti which didn’t calm down until the end of that beautiful second movement. I’ve also had moments where my tongue refused to tongue, and where my brain performed a spectacular vanishing act mid-phrase after having memorised a piece to within a milliimeter of its life. Fine in rehearsal and yet suddenly, now... blank.

And yet… here I still stand. Playing, and in my self deprecating way, still thriving as a person.

Because here’s what I’ve learned, nerves are not the enemy. They are merely excitement in a wrinkled disguise. They’re your brain’s way of saying, “This matters to you.” And isn’t that rather wonderful?

But let’s not romanticise it too much. Performance anxiety can feel utterly awful. So allow me to share a few Flute Geezer-tested, moderately dramatic, occasionally helpful tips for those moments when your inner confidence feels more piccolo than powerhouse:

Breathe like you mean it. Not that shallow “trying-not-to-faint” kind of breathing. I mean the “sigh of relief after you find your missing flute in the back of the taxi” kind. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Imagine you’re exhaling your inner critic with every puff. Bonus: it also makes you look mysteriously wise to onlookers.

Shift your focus. When panic starts narrating its usual horror story (“What if I get bars 18-24 wrong? What if I forget how to count to four?”), gently interrupt and ask, “Yes, but what am I trying to say with this piece?” Play to the audience, not at them. Picture your sound wrapping them in a warm sonic hug… or, if you’re in a mischievous mood, imagine they’re all wearing socks with sandals. That works too.

Rituals are magical. Athletes have them. Actors have them. Even my dog called Mouse has a pre-poop ritual more elaborate than a Baroque fugue. Find your own. Wear the same socks. Say the same phrase. Eat a banana. Pat your flute case twice and whisper, “Don’t let me down.” These tiny acts calm the chaos. And no, you’re not superstitious. You’re artistic.

Practice performing, not just playing. Get out of your comfort zone before the real stage demands it. Stand. Walk on. Bow. Play. Bow again. Do this in front of your family, your neighbour, or your collection of ornamental teapots. Normalise the abnormal. So that when the lights go up, you don’t feel like you’ve wandered into someone else’s dream.

Imperfection is not failure, it’s flavour. Let us finally, once and for all, toss perfection into the same rubbish bin as self-doubt and off-brand flute oil. Music is not a competitive sport. The audience doesn’t want robotic flawlessness, they want to feel something. They want goosebumps, a grin, a tear. And guess what? That can (and often does) happen right in the middle of a cracked note, an accidental fermata, or a rogue sneeze from row three. Miss a note? So what. The greats do it. Play through it. Own it. Smile like you meant it. If anyone raises an eyebrow, simply say: “That was an interpretive pivot inspired by harmonic freedom.”

Flaws don’t make you less musical, they make you more relatable. No one bonds over a perfect performance. They bond over humanity. So go ahead, fluff, falter, and flourish. The magic is in the mess.

Dearest flutist, flautist and flute player, if I could stand beside you before your next performance, I’d whisper this: You are enough. Not when the nerves go. Not when you play perfectly. You are enough now. With the sweaty palms, the dry mouth, and the butterflies rehearsing Swan Lake in your stomach.
You don’t need to be fearless to be brilliant. You just need to show up, shake a little, and play anyway.

With empathy and encouragement.

Jean-Paul
(The Flute Geezer with one-too-many lucky scarves)

P.S. Extensive, highly scientific studies (conducted mainly by me while eavesdropping at post-concert receptions) reveal that 78% of audience members are too busy admiring your tone, your outfit, or wondering where the interval snacks are to notice your mistakes. The rest are either fellow flute players quietly praying you don’t outplay them, or guests who thought Debussy was the name of a French perfume.

So breathe. Play. And if all else fails, raise an eyebrow, tilt your head thoughtfully, and call that accidental F-sharp “an avant-garde homage to tonal liberation.” They’ll nod sagely and clap anyway.

Toutes mes félicitations à mon élève Enzo ! Après avoir passé une audition, il a été choisi pour l'un des trois sièges de flûte convoités de OSJWI / WIYSO - Orchestre Symphonique des Jeunes du West Island. C'est un élève qui s’entraine très assidûment et son travail acharné a porté ses fruits !

I had so much fun blind testing intermediate flutes last week with a student! On the table: Azumi 3, Trevor James Virtuoso, Di Zhao 501 with 10k gold riser. The winner for this particular student? Trevor James Virtuoso! A big shout out to Kimberley Jurens Woodwind Repairs Inc.

Easter Note Reading games today! Happy Easter!