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 Loving a Musician

Are you in love with a musician? Perhaps even considering moving in together and sharing a life?
Congratulations! You have made an excellent choice. Before you commit, however, there's a couple of things you should know:

1. Musicians differ somewhat from a normal person. Living with them you'll notice they keep very different hours - not exactly your nine to five schedule. Most of the work happens in the evenings, so if you're hoping to have nice harmonious breakfasts together at seven, dream on. Your musician will be fast asleep at that point, and the most you'll get out of them early in the morning is a kick in the face for having tried to wake them up. In the evening they come home late, very hungry. You should always have some food ready, or at least a snack and a glass of wine. This is a safety measure you'll learn not to laugh at as the years go by.

2. After teaching it is impossible to smile and have a polite conversation. Do not be alarmed if your musician comes home grumpy and silent - it doesn't mean they hate their job. Teaching is very energy-consuming business, and it's quite normal not to be able to sparkle immediately after. The batteries need to be recharged before a normal level of communication can be achieved. (The aforementioned wine may speed up the process.)

3. The amount of work varies a lot, and the mood swings accordingly. One week your musician will be super busy, full of enthusiasm and excitement - and then there'll be days of Netflix, pure procrastination, and sighing over a career that has "passed them by". On the latter occasions you can try to be supportive, but your musician probably won't respond that well to phrases like "honey, if you actually practiced or tried to contact someone instead of watching Orange is the New Black and eating only cheese, things might improve". There will come a time when you'll be wise enough to save your breath and, seeing the first signs of a Netflix coma, go stay with friends for a week or book a hiking holiday just for yourself. A good relationship needs distance, you've heard.

4. Before concerts your musician can turn into different kinds of weird. Sulky, angry, weepy, deeply concentrated and quiet, overly cheerful and loud, obsessed with their hair... Again, the best advice you can get is to ignore them and remember that the concerts pay their share of the bills.
Another thing to know about concerts is that you'll need to attend. Your musician might say that you don't have to go, it's not that important, but they don't mean it. You do have to go. After the concert there will be either ecstatic rambling about touching people's souls, or angry muttering about how nobody appreciates art anymore. Agree with everything that's being said and whatever you do, do not try to be reasonable. Reasonable doesn't go well with a post-concert adrenaline rush.

5. If you expect your significant other to be mainly making music, practicing and performing, you're so mistaken. Your musician will spend way more time writing stuff - concert advertisements, program notes, emails and texts to students, emails and texts to colleagues, invoices, grant applications, tax return forms, unemployment benefit applications, blogs, biography updates, website updates, and so on. The music is the icing on the cake, and the cake itself is other things.

6. If your musician is a pianist, they'll spend an equal amount of time attaching sheet music together with scotch tape. (Like this: Put two sheets of music next to each other - put tape up, down, and center - realize the papers aren't in the right order - swear - repeat.) You'll feel sorry for your musician and to help them you'll buy them an ipad for their birthday. They'll use it to play solitaire, keep taping their scores like they've always done, and next year you'll just buy them more scotch tape.

7. Music is not a sport, you say? Think again. As your musician gets older, the amount of money spent on physiotherapy, massages and the like grows exponentially. Saving for a trip to Thailand? Not in a million years. Saving for a Tempur motor bed? Yep, already opened an account. You think you don't have to worry about these things before your musician is 60+ but you're fooling yourself. The moment a musician hits 30, they start going on and on about the benefits of yoga and ergonomic pillows - and all they'll want for Christmas will be gift cards to chiropractors.

8. You will not choose a single piece of music for your wedding. That's for sure...

9. ...but you'll be the one buying the house.

How to Be A Succesful Musician (in 10 easy steps)

Succeeding as a musician requires two things: first, you need to be taken seriously, and then people need to remember who you are. I've received plenty of advice on how to succeed, and all of it comes down to these two essentials. Most of this advice I've got completely free of charge from colleagues who want to help a friend out and show the true path to greatness - and now I'll share these nuggets of wisdom with you, spreading the love. All you need to do is follow these 10 simple steps, and you'll succeed in no time.

You're welcome.

1. Wear make-up. Nobody will take you seriously without it. (You'll be surprised to know that a soprano told me this. I assumed it only applies to women, but hey, what do I know - a little mascara never hurt anyone.)

2. If you live in Finland, be in the Sibelius Academy. In the bachelor program, doing your masters or doctoral studies, teaching, as a janitor, just get in. Because if you're not in the Sibelius Academy, your career is as good as over - people will forget you in a flash. (Sorry, majority of Finnish musicians. Apparently everyone forgot about you.)

3. Win competitions. That's the true way towards greatness. If you just can't win, then at least (4.) have CDs to your name. Nobody buys them or listens to them, but you've got to have them to look like a pro.

5. It's easier to win competitions if you look artistic when you're playing, because then everyone will know you're a serious musician. (This nugget comes from a competition jury member.) Looking artistic means waving your arms around a lot, making faces, closing your eyes for emphasis, and keeping it visually interesting in general. The only people allowed to just sit there and play are 60+ male pianists whose CVs are longer than them. Everyone else must keep moving.

6. Build and nurture a strong online presence: facebook, instagram, twitter, youtube, soundcloud, blog, vlog... - update them regularly and curate your content so that it resonates with your target audience. Then make millions from ads and sponsor deals.

7. Have a teaching method, it's the new black. (This is forward-thinking news from Continental Europe - Finland is always years behind, but this is our chance to catch up.) I've launched the Color Star Shiny Pumpkin method that makes every child play like Lang Lang in just six weeks. It's part video game, part coloring book, and I'm selling the material on- and offline for 1.600$ per student.

8. Get your concerts right. A succesful musician only does two types of concerts: conceptual and market-friendly.

Conceptual concerts get shitloads of funding because they're innovative and new. They take classical music out of dusty concert halls and into the real world: to shopping malls, swimming pools, forests, and fire trucks. It's important to add new layers to the musical experience: at least you have to have an app for the audience, preferably an interactive video game, or then just make the audience build their own kites and fly them in an abandoned factory while you play Bach fugues on a guitar made from potatoes.

If you can't get funding, you have to make the audience buy tickets. The audience doesn't like difficult music (I've heard this from a few different singer sources), so stick to the golden hits of opera, throw in some relaxing piano classics and finish off with a musical number or two. You will get rich and then die of brain explosion during the 19.576th performance of Meine Lippen Sie Küssen So Heiss. May you rest in peace.

9. Have a company. (This I've heard from everyone who has one.) Nobody wants to employ a musician these days - they don't want to take care of all that legal hassle. Have a company and just send them the bill, that's how it's done these days. If you don't, they'll never hire you and you'll starve to death in the gutter.

10. Have attractive (and slightly suggestive) PR photos because sex sells and that's what everyone does these days.

...and that's it. Needless to say I've ignored most of this feedback. I want to believe that the work we do speaks for itself, and we will get by if we respect our colleagues, audiences, and the music itself. What more is there than performing and teaching from our hearts sincerely and honestly? Sharing music with others in a way that is true to ourselves, coming from our unique point of view? No matter how you define success, take a moment to appreciate and admire the career you have right now. Whatever it looks like, obscure or brilliant, love it. It's your very own. 

On Fear

​Dear reader, I'm scared. Worried, stressed, and anxious about The Career Of A Freelance Musician. I live with a man who has a Nice Normal Job, and while he sleeps peacefully, I lie awake thinking about how nobody will ever hire me again.

You know the feeling when you're wide awake, it's way too much o'clock, and you have super constructive thoughts on failing at life? Night is obviously the worst time to think, so I'd strongly recommend you to sleep instead if you can. If you can't, here's two things to do instead: play solitare (there's an app for that, no need for actual playing cards. Very handy if you want to stay in bed while someone next to you is sleeping and would little appreciate lights being switched on) - or read a book. No time to think when doing either. I've tried the Constructive Method of writing my worries down, but that creates an uncomfortable paper trail - read in daylight, all those very serious concerns and fears look more like ramblings of a delusional half-wit.

When there's a quieter period in my calendar, it easily feels like the quiet will last forever. That's when I'm most worried, anyway. Busy is good, even if it sometimes gets close to burnout. (No more of that, now. That's a whole other blog post.) So, ladies and gentlemen. In order for you to feel better about your  saner selves, I'll share some of my delusional ramblings with you. Here are some thoughts that, after midnight, have entered my drama queen of a head:

1. Oh no, I don't have almost anything this ________(insert the current time of year)! I have done my last concerts in life and I'll never get to perform again.

2. They have finally caught me out: I suck at teaching, and I'll soon be fired if all my students won't quit first.

3. People practice and work insane hours and never get tired, and they still go to the gym, only eat beans and have calm, enlightened minds. I'm the only musician who feels worn out after teaching, and who doesn't always (usually) have the energy to excercise and socialize, and who eats popcorn for breakfast.

4. X years ago in that project I  ________________(insert a thing you should've done different), and now everyone that was there hates me and thinks I'm an incompetent nitwit.

5. Next year I can't be a pianist any more because nobody wants to play with me, and I'll probably end up working as a cleaner or cashier except they won't hire me because I'm too lazy and I'll die alone and unemployed. 

6. Everyone else has so many fancy gigs - they all work from morning till night and then party like crazy. I must be the only person in the entire music industry who has days off and watches Netflix.

Don't get me wrong - a lot of the time I'm optimistic about the future, grateful for the projects I've already done, and happy with the stuff I'm currently working on. I know very well that some have more and fancier stuff, and others less. I also know that You Should Not Compare Your Life With Other People's. But seriously, who doesn't? Another wisdom I've heard is Just Work Hard And Things Will Happen. No Need To Worry, Regret, Anything.

Bullshit, I tell you. I exist, therefore I worry. 

Conclusion: A part of being a freelance musician (for me) is being awake on some nights playing solitare on my phone, whilst posting only happy stuff to Instagram. And somehow life just happens to continue, and there just happens to be new mornings, opportunities, and ideas. And new exciting games in Google Play for the sleepless nights to come.

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.