Foster the Imposter

At around the age of six or seven I was given my first chocolate orange. This sweet orb was devoured greedily and I loved it for what seemed like endless segments of delicious gratification. I subsequently discovered I was given it for ‘musical aptitude’ in ballet lessons and it was awarded by the pianist in the classes. We didn’t know we were being tested of course, and I didn’t know there was any consequence for responding positively to the musical games. There was however a tiny granule of disorientation in receiving this gift; I hadn’t done anything. As a six year old, this was a merely a passing awareness, but it was nevertheless a puzzling feeling……

Fast forward a few years and I was in my first term at Guildhall and this now familiar but increasingly uncomfortable feeling was growing. There had been occasional minor, but bewildering rewards over the intervening years for small achievements and now I was experiencing the biggest of them all. It had been my dream since I was twelve to go to music college and I was at the one I had hoped - in my wildest dreams - to study at. And yet, amongst all the student excitement, idiot behaviour and thrill of being back in London, there was a gnawing sense that a mistake had been made, they had accidentally ticked the wrong box on the audition form and I didn’t belong there. By the time I had reached my second year this had escalated and self-doubt was making me unable to focus and play; I was starting to feel my arms couldn’t work properly. The situation was saved by two things; a teacher - who otherwise was fairly ineffective but was kind and listened - and the other was a book and accompanying talk called ‘The Inner Game of Music.’ The narrative was that performance in music, as in sports will only be at it’s best when you can reduce ‘Self One’ interference. This is that distracting voice that interrupts you all the time when you are trying to perform, with helpful comments such as ‘that was a shit phrase - you’re seriously going to have to impress the examiners/audience now.’ Or perhaps ‘I hate playing this bit - I’m going to have to try really hard’ (as the body tenses up), or even ‘I wonder what’s for lunch?…. Oh no where was I?’ The presentation and book explained that not only are these thoughts normal but that through various techniques and exercises in self-awareness you can reduce this judgemental, irritating bastard. Mostly it worked, and that my friends, should be the end of the story.

There was however another voice that continued and has never let up, which has since been described as ‘imposter syndrome.’ It is best explained as another voice - similar to ‘Self One’ who I shall call Beelzebub (B) talking to ‘Self Two’ - Reasonable Person (RP). Conversations usually go as follows;

Example One

RP - “That lesson went well. My pupil seemed to be engaged and they have left the room properly understanding that musical phrase/concept/technique.”

B - “That was laughably easy. Anyone could have taught that; they wouldn’t even have to be a musician to teach that. It was a piece of piss and you know it.”

Example Two

RP - “I’m pleased with how the rehearsal went tonight. It was good to get to the bottom of the poor quality of sound and improve it. I think the players were pleased with my clear direction and there was a genuine difference in the sonority by the end.”

B - “You arsehole. What a complete egotistical twat you are. You didn’t even play an instrument. All you did was wave your arms about.’

Example Three

RP - “That was satisfying. I dashed off that article/report/piece of writing speedily today. I’m rather pleased with how efficiently I used the time. Perhaps I’m better at it than I thought.”

B - “How dare you. You only got that easy gig/piece of writing because you were lucky.”

RP - “Actually I think I agree with you there.”

That there is luck, or chance in one’s life is indisputable. That set of circumstances over which none of us has control will likely dictate - even before we are born - where we will end up in life. Although we may feel that we have played our particular deck of cards well, boringly, we don’t have nearly as much control as we would have ourselves believe. So what do we do with this serendipitous swirl of cosmic energy? How do we deal with luck? Hand it back? Feel guilty about it?

To deal with guilt first, this very necessary emotion is something that should be handled with care. Contrary to some current thinking, I do think guilt is an important human response; the opposite after all is someone who has no remorse or empathy - in other words a psychopath. Personally, I’d rather not be one of those, so guilt needs to be acknowledged, noticed and if necessary mistakes rectified. And then - crucially - moved on from. It is when it becomes a habit that it is destructive and it is that bit that we need to break. Luck, on the other hand cannot easily be moved away from; it’s very nature means you have no control over it and it is for that reason that it should be used positively but also with care. Celebrate it. Embrace in your good fortune and use it in such a way that means you are neither a moaning minnie or an arrogant git.

As for imposter syndrome, I am now so familiar with it that it’s very regularity has reduced the impact. Sometimes just choosing to notice that feeling takes the wind out of it. I may well have to live with it forever, but live in hope that it will eventually just sod off on it’s own.

Uplifting music of the day: - ‘Gold Mine’ from the 1988 ‘Take 6’ album. Descriptions like ‘the greatest’ are usually something that I recoil from in music. But I have never heard a better acapella group. The whole of this Quincy Jones produced piece of work is actually unbelievable. I’m quite sure Jacob Collier was inspired by them and their (very close) harmonies. I challenge you to try and transcribe a few bars…..

Contemplative music of the day: - ‘Kaval Sviri’ from ‘Le Mystere des voix Bulgaries.’ The whole of this album is mystifying but beautiful to Western ears. I also find it alluringly seasonal at this time of the year.