On What Pianists Don't Like

Nope, don't like!

1) New Bärenreiter opera scores

The score wants to be closed. It has absolutely no interest in being open for you to see the notes inside, so you'll have to hold the score with one hand and play only with the other. That's a meaningful contribution to music, right? Don Giovanni, the left hand version? Bärenreiter folk, a friendly tip: do start developing new score technology - an EasyToTurn page system and an EasyToKeepOpen pianist edition of all your operas. And if you could deliver them before I get any more gray hairs that would be great. Thanks.

2) Being told how difficult a piece is

The scale starts from somewhere like "It's super easy, you'll sight read it in no time" and continues all the way to "This is very, very hard. It's better that someone else plays this, someone who already knows the stuff". It can put a pianist in a tricky situation - if you're told it's not that hard and for you it is, can you admit it? Or should you just smile and nod and try to hide the panic rising to your throat? And if you're told it's way too hard for you, should you try to prove them wrong or smile and nod and only burst into tears when you get home?

Singers are notoriously bad at estimating what is easy and what is not for a pianist, but this applies to pianists themselves, too. So many times I've been told how difficult a piece is to learn or sight read just to find that for me it's much easier or harder than what I've been led to believe. The truth is, and this should be obvious to everyone, that different things are difficult for different people. I'm really good at sightreading stuff, leaving out whatever I don't have time to deal with and bringing out the harmonies and the basic form of the piece. What I'm not so great at is accompanying with chords. I know how to read a score, but to invent something out of thin air using only my imagination? Let's set something straight here: I don't have an imagination, so please don't expect me to improvise on the spot just because the other pianist had no trouble with it. I'll work on it, ask friends for help and come back later with a tolerable version, but that's that. Also, I hate playing from handwritten scores and French editions with their minuscule print.

This works both ways now: pianists, do not believe any assesments of a piece but rather make your own, and you non-pianists expecting us all to be God knows what kind of monster geniuses - remember we're all individuals with different personalities and skillsets, just like barbies or cats.

3) Conducting and finger snapping

Snap at dogs, not at pianists, and if you're not an actual conductor, don't conduct. Don't wave your arms or try to guide the poor player into the correct tempo with any sort of gesticulating, thank you very much. It is seriously annoying and won't make you any friends. So what is a poor singer to do when the pianist has a wrong tempo? Either sing faster or slower and let them follow you, or just tell the pianist. With words. They'll love you for it.

I was performing once with a teacher turning the pages, and they started to conduct my intro to an aria because they felt my tempo was too slow. We were onstage and there was an actual spotlight on us so the whole audience could see the teacher's displeasure with my choice. Did I change the tempo accordingly? Hell no. Did I seriously contemplate setting their car on fire? Oh yes.

4) Not getting attention

Let's be honest here: pianists working with singers don't get their equal share of the limelight. Singers are interesting to the general public, and pianists - not so. This manifests itself in so many ways it would take a couple of blogposts to do justice to them all, but shortly and simply: it's not nice to hear that your contribution to a concert is irrelevant or uninteresting. Of course we know that a vocal recital with just the singer would in most cases be found wanting, but it's sad that we have to defend ourselves by pointing this out. No picture in the advertisement, no name in the program, requests to work for free or significantly cheaper than the vocal expert because it's "just accompanying" - I've encountered all of these and more. And why did we perform again? Because we're attention-seeking narcissists who want to be in the spotlight in fancy clothing. So you, singer, yes, I'm talking to you! - next time you're working with a pianist, make sure their name is out there and praise them a little. Tell them they are indeed important to you. And look, you've acquired an obedient, adoring piano slave who'll stay with you for life.

5) Badly copied scores and untaped ones

Scores that have the vocal line and plenty of space above but with most of the bass line missing from the lowest staff? Scores with the last bar missing from every line? Yay! How am I supposed to know what The Great Composer was thinking there? As mentioned above, pianists aren't evil monster geniuses that possess a hidden mental vault that includes all music ever written, so they cannot dip into that reserve when notes are missing from the page. Of course one can make an educated guess of what might logically come next, but that kind of exercise was aplenty on my theory lessons back in the days, and personally I'd rather not go back to that sorry time. I completed the courses and now I have zero interest in guessing what Schubert / Strauss / Grand Something had in mind for this particular passage. I'd rather be tempted to believe the composer had a brief Schönbergian period on that particular gap, and fill it with accordingly delightful sounds.

Untaped scores, however - let's see, how many here like taping scores? How many of you can't wait for the next intense session of you, sheets of paper and scotch tape? If there are any people passionate about this, please contact me at once; your passion will not go to waste. The rest of us just have to deal with it the best we can. On singing lessons these flyabout papers are a particular annoyance, because they will fall and they will be in the wrong order at some point and there will be chaos, wasted time, and tears of frustration. This could be avoided, I'm told, by buying an ipad - an expensive digital item that can contain all your scores forevermore. Well I don't trust machines. There has to be something deeply wrong with playing music from a screen instead of paper. I'd much rather tape and rant instead.

6) C sharp major

What can I say. It's a shit key.

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?