I took a creative liberty and just decided to improvise
On a Saturday night in Sydney, a 21-year-old university student named Sterling Nasa crossed an invisible threshold — from audience member to performer — when the La La Land in Concert orchestra lost its keyboardist to sudden illness. With 2,500 people waiting and no rehearsed replacement available in time, Nasa volunteered from his seat, sight-read a score he had never seen, and improvised a technically demanding synthesiser solo in front of the film's own composer. It is the kind of moment that reminds us how thin the line is between witness and participant, and how readiness, when it meets opportunity, can quietly rewrite an evening — and perhaps a life.
- A forty-minute interval and a composer walking out alone to address thousands signalled that something had gone seriously wrong behind the curtain.
- With backup musicians fifteen to twenty minutes away and no time to spare, the production's fate rested on whether a stranger in the crowd was telling the truth about his abilities.
- The most dangerous passage — an intricate synthesiser solo timed to Ryan Gosling's on-screen hands — arrived exactly as Nasa feared it would, leaving him no choice but to improvise in real time.
- He played in the right key, in the right scale, on the fly, and the audience responded with a resounding ovation that stunned even the composer standing at the podium.
- By Monday, Nasa was navigating breakfast television rather than lecture halls, briefly famous, before returning to his politics degree while the tour moved on with rehearsed replacements.
Sterling Nasa arrived at Sydney's ICC Darling Harbour theatre on Saturday night as an ordinary audience member, ticket in hand, ready to watch La La Land in Concert — the film playing on screen while a live orchestra performed Justin Hurwitz's Oscar-winning score beneath it. He left as the person who saved the show.
When the interval stretched to forty minutes, Hurwitz himself walked out to address the 2,500-strong crowd. The orchestra's keyboardist had fallen suddenly ill. He needed a pianist — someone with genuine sight-reading ability, not just confidence. Nasa, a 21-year-old University of Sydney student studying politics and international studies, hesitated. It was his friend Scarlett who nudged his hand into the air.
Backstage, the situation had already reached quiet panic. Local contacts had been called, but any backup player was fifteen to twenty minutes away — time the production simply didn't have. Hurwitz pressed Nasa with follow-up questions, testing whether the volunteer truly understood what he was agreeing to. Nasa said yes to all of them, then sat down at an electric keyboard and stared at a score he had never rehearsed.
The real test came during 'Start a Fire,' a John Legend piece featuring a technically demanding synthesiser solo designed to mirror Ryan Gosling's erratic on-screen hand movements. It was the passage Hurwitz had been most anxious about, and Nasa felt the same dread approaching. Rather than falter, he improvised — playing in the right key and scale, on the fly, with no preparation. The gamble held. The orchestra carried through, and the audience gave him a resounding ovation.
Hurwitz was openly stunned, calling the improvisation a remarkable skill entirely separate from sight-reading. By Monday morning, Nasa was moving between breakfast television and radio studios before returning to his university lectures. The production, meanwhile, was rehearsing new keyboardists for Melbourne and Brisbane. Hurwitz offered no prescription for what Nasa should do next — only the film's own quiet wisdom: you have to do what you love the most.
Sterling Nasa walked into the ICC's Darling Harbour theatre on Saturday night as an audience member, ticket in hand, ready to watch the La La Land in Concert production—the film projected on screen, a live orchestra playing Justin Hurwitz's Oscar-winning score in perfect synchronisation. He left the theatre as the person who saved the show.
The performance unfolded without incident until the interval stretched to forty minutes. Then Hurwitz emerged alone to address the crowd of 2,500. The orchestra's keyboardist had fallen suddenly ill. He needed to know: was there a pianist in the house? Someone with exceptional sight-reading ability?
Nasa, a 21-year-old University of Sydney student studying politics and international studies, hesitated. He plays piano and organ, and tutors bagpipes at his old school, Scots College, but this was different—a live performance of a score he'd never seen, in front of thousands of people, with a composer watching from the podium. His friend Scarlett nudged his hand up for him. He found the courage to volunteer.
Behind the scenes, Hurwitz later explained, quiet panic had taken hold. The orchestra's musicians had frantically phoned local contacts, but backup players were fifteen to twenty minutes away—time the production didn't have. With 2,500 people seated and waiting, Hurwitz had asked follow-up questions to make sure Nasa wasn't simply overconfident. "Are you sure? Can you really sight-read? Can you play key signatures you've never played before?" The young student said yes.
Nasa sat at an electric keyboard, staring at a complex score he had never rehearsed. The real test came during "Start a Fire," the John Legend piece featuring an intricate synthesiser solo designed to match the erratic hand movements of Ryan Gosling's character on screen. This was the moment Hurwitz had been most anxious about—a technical passage so demanding that even a high-level professional sight-reader might struggle. Nasa saw it coming and felt the same dread. "I thought, oh, I don't know if I'm going to be able to sight-read that in one go," he told ABC Radio.
Like Gosling's jazz-pianist character Sebastian in the film itself, Nasa faced a choice: stay in the shadows or take a monumental leap of faith. With no time to overthink, he improvised. He took creative liberty with the solo, playing in the right key and scale, on the fly, with no rehearsal. The gamble worked. The orchestra carried through the number, and the audience gave him a resounding ovation.
Hurwitz was stunned. "That is a whole other skill on top of sight-reading," he said later. "To be able to play a really cool solo in the right key, in the right scale, on the fly with no rehearsal—it was remarkable." The backstage debrief after the final bow was surreal for everyone involved. Hurwitz told Nasa how blown away he was, how grateful.
By Monday morning, the 21-year-old was being ferried between breakfast television and radio studios, recounting his sudden taste of showbiz fame. Reflecting on the incredible turn of events, Nasa called it an unforgettable privilege to play a soundtrack he had loved for years. But he was heading back to his regular university lectures. The production team, meanwhile, was scrambling to rehearse new keyboardists for the upcoming Melbourne and Brisbane legs of the tour. Hurwitz acknowledged that Nasa certainly has the talent for a music career, but the choice is ultimately his. "Maybe he likes international relations a little more than music," Hurwitz said. "But that's what La La Land is about. You've got to do what you love the most."
Citas Notables
That is a whole other skill on top of sight-reading. To be able to play a really cool solo in the right key, in the right scale, on the fly with no rehearsal—it was remarkable.— Justin Hurwitz, composer and conductor
It was quite a blessing to get to play a work that I'm in such admiration of.— Sterling Nasa
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
What made you actually say yes in that moment? Most people would have frozen.
I think I did freeze, a little. My friend Scarlett put my hand up before I could talk myself out of it. Once I was committed, I had to find the confidence. There wasn't time to overthink it.
And when you saw that synthesiser solo on the score—the one Hurwitz was most worried about—what went through your head?
Panic, honestly. I thought there was no way I could sight-read it cleanly. But I also knew I couldn't stop and ask for help. So I just decided to improvise instead of trying to play it note-for-note.
That's a very different skill than sight-reading. Did you know you could do that?
I didn't know until I had to. It's one thing to read music in a practice room. It's another to trust your ear and your instincts in front of 2,500 people while a film is playing and a conductor is watching.
Hurwitz seemed genuinely shocked afterward. Did that surprise you?
It surprised me that he was surprised. I mean, I knew it was risky. But once it worked, I think we all felt the same thing—that something unlikely had just happened.
Do you think this changes what you want to do with your life?
I don't know yet. I love music, but I also love what I'm studying. Maybe this was just a moment where everything lined up perfectly. Or maybe it's telling me something. I'm still figuring that out.