So 2013 was my first year competing for Baronial Bard of Stonemarche; I admit I was both nervous and full of myself.
I was full of myself because I felt I was a shoo-in. I’ve been a professional singer since 2004; I had been doing a wide range of music my entire life, from singing to playing instruments such as clarinet, I have done both solo and choir pieces; I qualified for All-State Chorus all four years in high school, making it through regional competitions to gain that honor; I went to college for voice and music education. I scoffed at the idea that any of these non-professional singers holding a candle to me. Looking back, I now know I had a shitty attitude, and I truly underestimated the talent of the Knowne World.
I had one period piece to my repertoire — only to find out later that it was only SCA appropriate, and not period appropriate — and a few Irish traditional songs. Looking back, I know that these things don’t make a good bard. I was ill-prepared with nothing memorized or even off-book. And even with all of my experience, I was shaking like a leaf due to nerves.
I had been encouraged to compete by my warm and welcoming household, whom had just found out I could sing. I had been sitting at their house every Thursday night for months, and never once had I brought up the fact that I went to school for music. I had lost my backbone for performance, and had sworn off singing once I had graduated from college, partially due to family issues and partially due to self-confidence.
Anybody who is anybody has sampled a brew from Bard’s Rest — and the night in question I had sampled several — and knows these brews can cause inhibitions to be lost, and in myself, musical turrets to abound, so I had opened my mouth to sing. It was at that point, Kythe and Sine had asked if I had ever competed for Baronial Bard. They had advised in years past that numbers had been few, many of which would be recycled. I had been apprehensive, but with liquid courage and their silver-tongued persuasion, I decided, what the hell, I’d be a shoo-in.
So, back to the day of the competition, without the liquid courage running through my veins, I was no more than a shambling shack in the wind. I remember sitting in the audience talking to whom would soon be the new Baronial Bard; we laughed, we joked, we commented on the music and stories shared; we exchanged opinions, and encouraged one another to be the best that we could be. Even when my new friend had gone to perform, I still scoffed and thought I had it in the bag. I didn’t sing well, not nearly up to my own standards, nor apparently to the audience’s or the judges’, but again this false arrogance had sat with me throughout the day. I finished the night out as most bardic circles do: singing merriment, laughing, and enjoying the more relaxed environment now that the competition was over.
Next day in court, it was time for the moment of truth. It was like a bad movie scene where the goofy guy expects to get the job, only to find it goes to the more qualified person. In the same fashion, as they were calling the Baronial Bard, I stood halfway up before I realized it wasn’t my name they had called. I tried to make it look like I was stretching, as awkwardly as a boy on a first date putting his arm around a girl, as I inched back into my seat. After the moment wore off, more than half of me was happy for my friend, though I will admit there was a part of me that was crestfallen.
I was disappointed, sure, as any would be at the loss of a competition. However, I gained so many more things from that day: I met mingled with many performers of many unique backgrounds; made friends with the Baron and Baroness; and realized what it truly meant to be a Baronial Champion, it was not just about aesthetics, but about the spirit, knowledge, and diversity that go into being a musically inspirational leader. With this in mind, I was no longer discouraged and now had a goal for next year. Give or take a year.
Meddlings of the Minnesinger 