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! (:

Comic Relief

Because this week is a hectic week in my life, with midterms happening left and right, with concerts and rehearsals and lessons and lectures and coachings and everything in between, this week’s post is just a video for you guys,  just for laughs.

Yesterday, comedian Sid Caesar passed away at age 91. In honor of his memory, I present to you one of his acts, “First Piano Recital”. I’m sure you’ll recognize the piece straight away! Enjoy! (:

I’ll be back with a full-length post next week, I promise! In the meantime,

Dream big, music-makers!