Follow The Leader

I had an exciting day today, so I figured I’d jump back to an anecdotal blog post today.

BECAUSE I’M NARCISSISTIC AND LOVE TO TALK ABOUT MYSELF.

Haha. Just kidding. But really, though. 

Today, I met with the conductor for the Vancouver Metropolitan Orchestra, and in four days, I’ll be performing Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini with them. Super exciting stuff! If only the date wasn’t so close.

Sometimes, when everyone has busy schedules that are hard to coordinate, we don’t have the luxury of having multiple rehearsals before a concert. I met with the orchestra’s conductor today, we have one rehearsal on Saturday, and then the concert is on Monday. I have half an hour on the day of the concert to run through my piece with the orchestra before the concert in the evening. 

If it were a different concerto I were playing that didn’t involve so much back-and-forth interaction between the orchestra and the soloist, I wouldn’t be as worried. But considering this concerto is so interactive, and I can’t even manage to get some variations to sync up with my single-person orchestra (my orchestral pianist), how do you expect me to feel about syncing up with about fifty or so other people who have never heard me play this piece before?!! Talk about stressful circumstances.

There’s something that needs to be said, though, when working with limited time in collaboration. Of course, when you’re collaborating with an orchestra, you’re dealing with a force of more than fifty people, but there is no reason for you to compromise the way you feel about a piece for someone else. 

“I want to take this variation faster,” the conductor said.

As a student, I know a lot of people who would just immediately say yes and just go with it. We, as students, are used to be told what to do. Our teacher tells us that we’re doing something wrong, and we practice to fix it. But at some point, we have to learn that collaboration isn’t just about going along with what everyone else is saying and playing Follow the Leader. Sometimes it’s important to take charge and do things the way you want them to go. You’re the soloist, after all. Put your ideas on the table, too. Discuss, and then come up with the best solution.

“Let’s give it a shot, see how it goes,” I replied.

After playing through that variation at the faster tempo, he looked at me expectantly. “I don’t really like it,” I said. “Can we go back to the tempo I originally started with?”

The point is that although we didn’t end up going with the new tempo, at least I was willing to try. That’s the beauty of collaboration. Everyone has different ideas; as long as everyone is willing to listen and try out different things, collaboration is a great experience and there’s something to be learned, and to be taught, in every session. Collaboration is about keeping an open mind, and being ready for anything.

Of course, things don’t always go the way you want them to. Be as it may that tempos might have been alright today, but I might end up taking something slower on the day of the concert. Some variations might end up being faster. Being in a concert situation changes the way our minds work, and sometimes it’s not always the best thing for us when we’ve gotten used to playing something a certain way. The best thing to do at this point is to practice the piece in a way that nothing will catch me off guard. Practice things at the tempo I want them to go at, of course, because in the best case scenario, everything will fall into place on the day of the concert. However, that’s not how things turn out in life sometimes. Sometimes, sh*t happens. I practiced the orchestra part so I know it inside and out, so I can catch onto any weird blips that might happen and potentially throw me off. I practiced each variation faster and slower than the tempo I’d like to take it at, so that if anything happens and the tempo doesn’t happen to be where I want it to be during the concert, I can still catch onto it and keep playing as though that was the tempo I wanted. Being ready for any circumstance is a skill that every performer needs to have. Adjusting on the spot to things that were not planned is something we have to always be ready for, and practicing for any possible situation is the only way to be fully prepared. The best the conductor and I can do is to listen actively and fit to each other. There is no leader in this context; we are equals, working together to create a piece of art. With that mentality, I could probably play my concert tomorrow and still feel pretty good about it. 

Four more days, and the stage is mine! (:

Until next week,

Dream big, music-makers!

The ‘A’ Word

During the course of every pianist’s career, one is bound to be asked to play with instrumentalists or singers. Although we can get away with being completely independent playing our solo music, instrumentalists and singers can’t hide from pianists forever. At some point, they will hand us some orchestral reduction of a concerto. They will give us the piano part of a piece they need us to play, whether it be an art song or a sonata for piano and [insert their instrument here].

Just because we are working with someone else doesn’t mean we don’t shine. A sonata for violin and piano includes “and piano” in the title because we are just as invested in the music as the violinist is. The sonata isn’t for them; it’s for us both. Art song is the same way; the singer may be the one reading the poetry, but the pianist is the one who creates the atmosphere and really sets the scene for the singer to tell the story. I hate to sound super pompous about it, but they can’t survive without us.

So, being given this huge role to support and collaborate with someone else, why is there often such a big difference in the way we approach our own solo works as opposed to pieces that other people want us to play with them?

“I’m just the accompanist.”

Wait, what? You’re a what?

No. You’re not an accompanist. You’re not the carpet the singer or instrumentalist walks all over in order to get to the spotlight. You share that spotlight. You’re just as invested in the music as they are. You have the power to control the way the instrumentalist plays, the way the singer sings. You’re creating this music together.

The next time a singer or an instrumentalist asks you to play for them, play it like it’s your solo piece. Think of it as though you’re taking to the stage by yourself, giving every ounce of your energy. Music is music, no matter what you’re playing. Whether it be a chamber work, an orchestral reduction of a concerto, or an art song, you should be putting every bit of attention to every detail. You should be completely invested emotionally. There’s no excuse for half-assing anything, for lack of a better word.

You’re never accompanying. You’re collaborating. You’re making music together. And don’t for once tell yourself that no one listens to the pianist. If they’re not listening, give them something they will listen to. Make them pay attention. Compel them to listen. That’s when you know you’ve done your job as a collaborative artist. 

Dream big, music-makers! (:

The Artist and the Art Form

Last week, I got into a heated discussion in one of my classes about “boring music”. What exactly makes music “boring”? The genre of music that was being discussed in particular was art song. Personally, I love art song. I love the poetry, the emotions involved, the connection you make with the singer. Composers like Schubert, Schumann, and Wolf managed to genuisly set poetry to music, allowing certain notes, melodies, and harmonies to come together and effectively convey an multitude of emotions.

A survey was conducted amongst musicians and classical music enthusiasts to see why the interest in art song was significantly lower than other genres of classical music. Pianists would say that the piano parts written for art song are generally uninteresting. Take Das Wandern, the first movement of Die schöne Müllerin, for example. The piano part is essentially one huge Alberti figure, and as this movement is strophic, we’re repeating these two pages five times. How interesting, I know. Other issues that were brought up were that audience members don’t understand the poetry. As art song is most commonly heard in German and French, audience members who don’t speak these languages fluently need to constantly bring their heads up and down to look at the performer and then at the translations in the program, and back up, and back down, and so on and so forth. Finally, it was also brought up that art song doesn’t have the big extravagant sets and costumes that operas have, along with their heightened emotions and exaggerated on-stage movements that tell a very clear story.

Although taking part in an opera is difficult in its own way, art song is just as difficult, if not more. If we look into the essence of art song, we’ll see that it’s one of the most beautiful and emotionally stirring art forms in the whole world of music. Why? Because of the poetry. There’s meaning in the poetry and there are reasons behind why a composer picked the poetry they picked to set to music. There are reasons behind why they chose to set the poetry a certain way.

Art song is something so personal that you have to dig deep within your own experiences, and dive into the pasts of the composers and poets themselves, in order to truly understand the emotions behind the music. You need to know the poetry and feel every word of it. The reason art song is boring is not because the music is boring. It’s boring because the artists are boring.

Don’t get me wrong, there are brilliant art song singer-pianist duos out there. But the art form itself has never been as popular as everything else. From the point of view of a pianist, we see a bunch of chords on the page and we think, “Oh, this is easy, I can sight read this.” We’re just plunking down the chords without thinking anything else of it, other than staying in time with the singer. But as a pianist, have you ever thought that maybe the way you play something will influence the singer on a level that they’re not even aware of? There’s a certain connection a pianist must make with their singer in order to convey a convincing performance of art song that goes far deeper than simply playing together. If you’re playing chords vertically, you can bet that no matter how long of a line your singer wants to make with the vocal line, they can’t because they’re influenced by the vertical way you’re playing the piano part.

Let’s go back to Das Wandern. The first movement, as mentioned before is one giant Alberti. My first thought as a pianist was probably similar to any other pianist out there who sees this for the first time. “Oh good, it’s easy.” By the third repeat, you’re starting to think, “I have to do this two more times after this one?!” And by the final repeat, you’re thinking, “THANK GOD, NO MORE!” Natural reactions, of course. What’s a pianist supposed to do here, anyway?! It’s simple. The beauty of art song is in the poetry. As pianists, we sometimes overlook the fact that we are not accompanists. We are collaborators. We are just as invested in this music as the singer. So, what does that mean? It means we need to know the poetry, too. All our answers are in the poetry. In knowing the poetry, we know where our lines go, which chords and harmonies to emphasize because of the words they’re sung with. The singer’s breathing tells us where to push and pull, where to pause for emphasis. And most of all, the words give us ideas of how to change things up if given something like an Alberti figure for five verses.

I’m not going to put the blame on pianists 100% for turning art song into a boring art form, but we are certainly not guilt-free in the matter. I know a lot of the piano parts don’t look fascinating or challenging to us, but in a way, that’s the challenge. It’s turning something so painfully simple into something unbelievably beautiful and heartfelt. The art form didn’t survive centuries for nothing; it’s still performed today because there’s something in it for everyone. Art song is one of the most emotionally challenging art forms, and there’s a way for every individual to find something personal to feel in every song. We just have to find it and connect with it.

Just remember: If the music seems boring… It’s not the music that’s boring, it’s the artist.

Dream big, music-makers!