The Other Side of E.P.
When the first pair opened the wooden doors and stepped into Phillips Church, I shivered, not because it was clear the two students had met for the first time a few minutes ago, or because of the resident flying mammal the two had unintentionally awakened from its seasonal slumber. Rather, the cause of the faint tremor originated from my realization of an impending event—it was my first Evening Prayer.
A few months prior, I had sent Rev—whom I didn’t know at the time—a lengthy, desperate email, asking him to reserve an EP spot for me. Rev took his time to respond, as he does with all students who request to perform at EP, and during the last week of fall term, he sent a terse reply that excited me regardless of its brevity:
“Tommy, you are on for January 28th. Peace, rev.”
Days following Rev’s reply, EP did not occupy my mind. Jan. 28, 2014 seemed like a date far in the future and I had neither the intention to or concern for the preparation of the service, creeping toward the present.
Most musicians on campus who have not yet performed at an EP fall into this trap of believing that their EP is distant. This misestimation can prove to be problematic, if not catastrophic. It certainly did for me when I realized a week before the service that the days until my first EP suddenly stood below two digits and that I had nothing—not even a single song—prepared for the upcoming performances.
So that week, I traveled down the road of further sleep deprivation and prepared three songs—“The Scientist” by Coldplay, “Almost Lover” by A Fine Frenzy and “Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley—with two of my close friends, Annie Choi ‘15 and senior Caroline Sullivan. For a total of three hours, we practiced. When I began to feel a small surge of confidence, it was time.
The moment I walked into the church that Tuesday night with a guitar on my back, I felt my body faintly tremble for the first time. Playing music in front of crowd of people has always been a personal forte and I had plenty of experience both at and outside of Exeter under my belt; yet, somehow, EP—this odd tradition all Exonians treasure—was making me feel uneasy.
Before I could prepare myself mentally and try to expel apprehensive and doubtful thoughts, the church bells began to ring. And I felt myself shake again. The candle lights, the huge stain glass window and the church itself—all of the things that calmed me before—were now only signals of the fast-approaching service. Soon, the room—already filled with dorm-mates, friends and countless couples—was silent and Rev nodded his head.
Though I forgot some lyrics during the service, my first Evening Prayer was arguably successful. Since that January night, I have performed in many other Evening Prayers, some mine and some others’. While my hands and body do not tremble anymore before the services, EPs still make me nervous. Many of us attend the service for it offers a space for composure, silence and perhaps romance; however, for a performer, Evening Prayer is quite different: nerve-racking, often stressful and rewarding.