On Female Composers

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that the history of classical music is a predominantly white male effort. I find it weird that I never questioned this until a few years ago. It wasn't a good or a bad thing, it was just a fact, like water being wet. A debate about whether female composers should be more present in concert programs has been going on in Finnish media this year, and this question has been circling in my own head for a while, too. A great summary on the different views can be heard - in Finnish - from Yle Areena: Kare Eskola has a radio program Välilevyjä in which he comments on the matter. (The other episodes are awesome, too.) My view is that yes, womens voices should be more present. Why, you might ask. What I'm wondering is - why not.

When I was 19, my vocal teacher wanted me to sing Er, der Herrlichste von Allen by Schumann. I disliked the song from the beginning and found it hard to relate to the poem. The woman seemed like such a submissive idiot, crawling in mud in front of a god-like hero lover. I still don't like the song - now I just have more reasons to find it problematic. For me the main issue is that both the music and the text are written by adult men trying to relate to the feelings of a young girl. The whole cycle, Frauenliebe und -leben, is built on this extremely common foundation: a woman being portrayed through the eyes of men. Whereas Winterreise and other big romantic song cycles deal with the deep and dark stuff going on in the philosophical mind of man, Frauenliebe und -leben is about finding a guy, getting married, and then dealing with his death. Six songs were enough to sum up a womans entire existence, focusing solely on how she feels about men. I do not object to men writing about women (or to women writing about men), but what I thoroughly despise is that this particular song cycle is still being presented as the female view of things. IT'S NOT THE FUCKING FEMALE VIEW - THE CREATORS WERE BOTH MALE. THE FEMALE VIEW IS MISSING FROM ALMOST THE ENTIRE CLASSICAL MUSIC CANON BECAUSE WE WEREN'T INVITED TO THE PARTY UNTIL YESTERDAY.

(Oops, got a bit upset there. It's just really hard to talk about this calmly because I'm so overwhelmingly angry at the entire Western Civilisation.)

My personal anger aside, here are some thoughts on why I think more female composers works should be a bigger part - or at least some kind of part - of our concert repertoire.

The people who think we're fine as we are often use the same argument: if we start adding female composers works to the programs for equality's sake, the quality of the music will diminish. The E in front of quality suddenly makes the latter disappear. The problem with this argument is that most of the music I'd like to perform is extremely hard to find. So how did we know it's shit again? We haven't even heard it. One answer to this is that if the music was good, it would've become famous already. For me this seems like horseshit - becoming famous depends on so many factors. And even Bach himself, the mighty God of Music, was quite unpopular at one time. I wonder what would've happened to the canon we hold so dear if the musicians who rediscovered his stuff had decided that since Bach was forgotten once, he should stay that way. I'm not saying that every unknown female composer is a forgotten genious, but one of them might be. Bach was. 

Got sidetracked, again. What I wanted to say earlier in the midst of my anger was that many Finnish female composers works from the 20th century have not been recorded or even published, so I would argue that these equality critics are not acquainted with even a fraction of the feminine music out there. It is disheartening that these compositions are cast aside as inferior and uninteresting before they're even given a chance.

I'm currently spending a lot of time researching and planning concerts with only female composers music. Why? Because I think it deserves to be heard, and the way to make it heard is to play it, not rant about it. (As satisfying as ranting might be.) I want to perform music created by women and composed to texts written by women because it's a viewpoint I'm interested in. Because it's so rare, unfamiliar and hard to find. Because I've spent most of my career studying the male stuff and I'd like to see what else is out there. The unquestionably great music written by men has always had plenty of attention, and I'm not suggesting it shouldn't. It could, however, make room for others too. In my concerts it will. 

On Posting Recordings On Facebook

I posted a recording on facebook.

I haven't done this in a long time because of the questions. Every time I think about making a recording public in facebook or on my website, these questions appear in my head like an army of very loud mosquitoes. You've probably never heard them since I'm the Only Musician On Earth With Issues, everyone else looking pretty sane and normal and calm from where I'm standing. If one day, however, you hear this strange buzzing sound approaching you from a distance, you should know what's coming. Here they are.

"Is it good enough?"

It could've been better, you know. The bassline could've been more distinct, better shaped. There was the pedal at the end that I'm not sure about - too much? Too obviously romantic?

"What would Ilmo say?"

Ilmo Ranta is a Finnish pianist and one of the best lied coaches on this planet. He has very high standards that are always just out of my reach. Surely he would cringe at the first bar and make me play it again in a far more imaginative way that made the music shine.

"What if people will think that I'm really proud of this recording and not aware of the shit things?"

I have the urge to post recordings with explanatory essays that detail everything I'm not happy with, so that people would know that I know: "To whom it may concern: I don't claim to be perfect or great by posting this recording. I know the beginning is really quite normal (as in 'not extraordinary in any way') and that the transition on page three is a bit clumsy. I'm also aware of all the unclear left hand stuff that appears throughout the piece. With these shortcomings, your humble servant still has the audacity to offer her recording for the world to hear. Sincerest apologies, Jenna"

"Is it any good?"

This question has a tendency of repeating itself a lot. Usually there are no answers.

"What does this say about me?"

What sort of message am I sending with this particular piece? Have I posted too many pieces like this before - will people think I can't do anything else?

"Can I say I love this piece?"

Admitting that a particular piece is close to my heart - that makes it even worse. If I care about a piece very deeply, I'm supposed to have a Super Interpretation of it. My recording should just Pour From The Heart like little drops of magic gold wisdom and love. Listening to it should be a transcendental experience because of all these emotions that drip from the speakers like nectar. Oh well.

"There are already millions of recordings out there - why would mine be needed?"

Of course it's mainly about advertising myself. I hate that, but it's how it is. The songs are musical calling cards I put out there so people would get curious.

"But why not?"

If I get to this question, I'll post the damn thing. Because why not, indeed. However it could be improved, it is me playing the piano to the best of my ability on that particular day, in that particular space. That is how the song shaped itself in front of me that day, and I felt happy and content travelling through its landscape.

P.S. Us musicians, we face fear all the time. Fear of failure, fear of rejection. We find ways to cope with it and we learn to control it, but let's not fool ourselves by pretending it's not a part of our lives. One way I'm facing my own fears is writing them out for all of you to read - and with that writing process, letting them go. Another great way of letting go is simply focusing on the music. It is why we are what we are, after all.

On Stupid Feedback

Writing in 2019 feels like a struggle, so just to get going again I'm coughing up a short text on feedback. I know I already wrote about critique, but this is also about positive things (I promise!). Here goes...

As you all know, we get a lot of feedback, and a lot of it is stupid in my opinion. For me, stupid feedback means comments that are vague, jumping to conclusions, and therefore unhelpful. I don't think people give such feedback on purpose – but we have a tendency to forget that our thoughts aren't audible to other people. Just our words. Also I think music being Great Art creates the need to be all poetic and soulful when commenting on it. Feedback easily slides to the Higher Realms of interpretation, emotions, expressions et cetera, instead of the lowly ways the pianists, for example, choose to push the wooden keys with their mundane little fingers. And one more thing leading the commentators astray: we see other people through our own unique experiences, tending to interpret their behaviour as if they were like us. So if someone acts in a way you would act if you were feeling shy, you probably think that they're feeling shy as well. If they really are feeling shy, then that's great, well observed you! But if they're not shy after all, and instead this is their concentrated face or their tired face, then oops. You go and tell them there's no need for shyness here, and you'll baffle them for sure.

Anyhow, my purpose of writing this is to call for more simplicity, and I seem to be doing the very opposite here. So I'd better move on to some examples now.

Stupid feedback: ”You should express yourself more freely.”

Great feedback: ”To me it sounds like your playing lacks dynamic range and agogics – why not try to exaggerate the dynamic differences and rubatos to make the music less rigid?”

***

Stupid feedback: ”The melody should sing more.”

Great feedback: ”Your legato isn't ideal, because you're interrupting it with unnecessary hand movements. Here's how you could try to move your hand...”

***

Stupid feedback: ”Such a sensitive accompanist!”

Great feedback: ”What a good accompanist – he matched his dynamics so well with the singer, and played with such clever rubatos that it sounded like they were really breathing together.”

***

Stupid feedback: ”You need to be more together!”

Great feedback: ”More eye contact! When you look at each other more often, it makes you look like a team.”

Maybe it's just me, but I'd prefer the latter any day. So what do you think? What is good feedback to you?

On Audiences

1) Friends and family

They are your cheerleaders sans pompoms. Filled with pride, armed with flowers they sit and listen to you doing whatever it is you’re doing. Afterwards they’ll tell you you were wonderful, you looked terrific, well done you.

They’re the all-important support network you need to stay sane, so appreciate all the compliments, do a twirl in your concert gear, and smile to the camera. You earned it by being onstage, no matter what you did there. Just going there was brave enough for now.

2) Colleagues

After the performance they come to thank you, and seeing them approach you immeadiately start pouring out all that went wrong with the performance. Yes, you’re very aware of your shortcomings, yes, you know it wasn’t that great. Only if you happened to play superbly well, you might find the courage to say “oh it was quite okay I guess”.

Usually your colleagues want to congratulate you instead of mocking you, and on a purely theoretical level you know this (having congratulated other colleagues yourself). However, the adrenaline of the performance turns you into a mad conspiracy theorist, so in your ears “it was great” sounds like “you’re an ape”. It’s all in your head. Remember that.

3) A jury

You’re playing, and suddenly from the corner of your eye you see one of them write something down. Immediately your mind starts racing: was it the phrasing, balance, rubato, my face, my shoes, what? WHY DO THEY HATE ME? It takes all your willpower not to run away crying, but you soldier on.

The jury member was probably writing down a note to buy milk after the exam, or he was drawing a completely innocent flower, or a chicken. He’s being paid to hear you out and say intelligent things after, he’s done this a million times already, he’s tired and wants coffee. Also he’s a kind person who doesn’t particularly enjoy crushing other peoples hopes and dreams – he’d rather give some generic, inoffensive feedback. But you don’t know this, so hearing the sound of his pen your soul shatters to a million pieces and your blood pressure reaches record heights.

4) Children

They are the best and the worst audience. You never have to guess whether they liked or hated you – you’ll notice it from the things they shout and/or throw at you mid-performance. If they like the show, you feel like you've discovered the true meaning of music and you dance all the way home.

Let’s not think about the other option.

5) The person paying you

The thank you -handshake after the performance is not just a handshake. It’s a code to be encrypted: Was the handshake firm enough? What did that raise of the eyebrows mean? Was the smile approving, did the “let’s be in touch” sound a tad sarcastic?

Will I get to do another concert here ever again?

6) Non-musicians that aren’t related to you

They just sit there and enjoy. Plus they’re not obliged to talk to you after, which is great, too.

7) Critics

“Mr. Critic, please say nice things about me, please. Put those nice things on the front page and you can have my soul and my children.”

8) A full house

Oh the joy, oh the nerves! You’re shaking, but you feel like a million dollars when the hall bursts into applause in the end. Everyone loves a full house, but it takes a real connoisseur to love…

9) …an empty house

Nobody showed up, but you play anyway. Hell, why not grab a drink and make a party of it. The walls will like your stuff.

On Critique

“You should have your left foot closer to the pedals.”

“You should have played Liszt instead of Chopin.”

“You’re very musical but you have zero technique.”

“You have a good technique but no personality.”

“Your playing is way too robust for such a delicate piece.”

“You had no dynamic range whatsoever.”

“You’re not together even with yourself.”

“You have to start developing your personality to a different direction.”

“I’m sure you understand why **** deserved to be in the finals instead of you.”

“You play like a schoolgirl.”

“Your final exam was way too easy. It shouldn’t have qualified at all.”

“It’s been so frustrating to teach you, because you don’t seem to be able to learn the simplest things.”

We all have a Library of Hurtful Quotes; these are a random selection from mine. There have been master classes after which I’ve cried in the toilet, and competitions after which I’ve wanted to quit playing. So often I’ve thought I’ll never be good enough. And yet I play. The schoolgirl without personality who can’t learn anything. I play.

As performing musicians we get criticized a lot. Some of it we need, and some hurts like hell. Sometimes these two apply to the same comment. I could give you the context of each of the quotes from my collection – which of them I thought I deserved, and which felt totally uncalled for – but I won’t. Instead I’m asking you to share some quotes from Your Personal Library with me. What kind of sentences do you hear in your head when you’re not sure of yourself? And how do you shut them out?

I’m still learning how not to give a fuck. Taking advice from Nike my goal is to just do it, and take in critique only from those colleagues and friends whom I trust, and who are sincerely trying to help me. And while I’m trying to get there, it would really help if the Whole Classical Music Industry had more warmth and tolerance to it. So please, share a quote or two and remember: a kind word here, an encouraging word there, and who knows, maybe someone will return the favour when you need it the most.