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Earlier this year a friend introduced me to Groupmuse. It's "an online social network that connects young classical musicians to local audiences through concert house parties".

After you register for a free account, you can RSVP to attend a Groupmuse. If the host accepts your RSVP Groupmuse will charge you $3 (think of it as a reasonable convenience fee). Then once at the event, you will be encouraged to donate $10. 100% of your donation will go to the musician(s). The host does not make any money from hosting a Groupmuse.

The event format is straightforward. Arrive at the hosts home, socialize with the other attendees (typically 15-30), and then enjoy 60-80 minutes of music (broken up by an intermission). I've found the hosts to be hospitable, the musicians superb, and the other attendees friendly and diverse (it's not just a room full of musicians).

I've attended 3 in Brooklyn and each one was a memorable and moving experience. One Groupmuse I attended took place on a rooftop in Fort Greene. On a warm summer night it was quite a stage:

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I have a vivid memory from this performance. A few seconds into their first song, the cellist's cello case tips over and falls on her. Only slightly fazed, she doesn't stop playing and the music continues. By the end of the piece it was as if nothing had happened. And by the end of the performance most of the audience had forgotten that it even happened.

Musicians have a high standard for live performances. No matter what the issue (equipment failure, stand with sheet music tips over, string breaks) you keep playing. In the face of adversity, keep playing. Because in the end no one remembers the challenge you faced, they remember the music. And if you don't make it seem like a big deal, then the audience may not even notice.

As a musician it's a standard I've held when I've performed live. And I've been trying to apply it in other facets of my life. For example at work, in those moments when things seem to be falling apart (the cello case is falling on me), I stay the course and keep playing. I don't stop the performance seeking acknowledgement for the predicament I'm in. My colleagues saw the case fall, they know it's hard. They don't need me to tell them that, they are their to hear the music.

Don't make excuses when things get hard. We know your situation is hard, because in some variant so is ours. Instead of reminding us, just keep playing.