On Saying Yes

It's great when people ask you to a gig, recording, rehearsal, anything. It's nice to be asked. It becomes a problem when you already have quite a lot of work, but you think you can manage just this one thing more. And that other thing. And surely you have time for the third if you skip lunch.

It really is very nice to be asked, so yes.

Yes, I'll play the thing.

Yes, I'll learn this in two days.

Yes, of course I'll travel 18 hours for the gig.

Yes, I'll tap dance while playing. Yes, sure.

You have to say yes, or otherwise they will never ask you again and you will die alone and unhappy. You have to say yes, because musicians are supposed to work all day, every day teaching, practicing, performing, marketing, networking, improving, smiling. This is what it is to be a freelancer, it's hard work. If you stop, if you don't keep pushing, you'll be cast aside, forgotten. You're supposed to be stressed all the time and burn out before you're 30.

How great, guys, being a musician is so cool.

The reason I'm ranting about this yes-business is that I am a person who needs holidays. I need time for other things than music Every Single Week in order to remain a functioning human being. I get tired, both of music and of people, and I want to have a life that includes peace and quiet, and things that are not work. So this year I'm learning to say no.

No, I can't come.

No, I need the time to learn all the other things that I've said yes to.

No, I can't transpose this a tritone down just because the key better suits your mood today.

No, I can't do this for so little money. If I spend all my time working for free or for a pittance, I can't pay my rent or buy food.

No, I can't play for a hundred hours without break because my hands and brain need to rest every once in a while. I have already injured my hand once because I didn't have the courage to say when I wanted a break, everyone else seeming fine with the workload.

When I say that I can't/won't do something, I'm often told about all the other pianists who can and will do the thing I've said no to. They can play twenty three hours without stopping - they play every single note from the piece you think requires five hands (and they can do it with just seven fingers) - they never complain about money because they don't care about material comfort, and they sure as hell can sightread every vocal music piece on the planet. And transpose them to any key they like. While reciting a poem in Latin.

I'd love to meet these people. They sound awesome.

To those of you that aren't superheroes, a word of advice: Work the amount that feels right for you, and don't compare. You have to know how much you can cope with, what you're willing to do and for what price, and once you've set your limits, stick with them no matter what other people say. Then go and have days off. Breathe and notice the life outside music - it's worth seeing, I promise you.

On Performing with Singers - pros and cons

It’s easy to pay attention when singers are singing. They usually wear bright colours, stand in the middle of the stage and make a lot of noise with words – they tell stories. And the pianist? They’re further back, wearing colors that perfectly blend into the grand piano, there are no easily recognizable stories and certainly no words. If they’re playing behind an upright, you might literally not see them at all, until they get up at the end to take a bow.

Performing with singers, the pianists don’t always make it to the spotlight, and that’s annoying – but if we’ll keep ranting about it and won’t take ourselves too seriously, it’s possible not to become bitter. Humour really is the saving thing… and it’s not like we’re heart surgeons, so it’s ok not to have a National Pianist Day.

So, to make my point, here’s a couple of things that a pianist might not love about performing with singers:

1) Your name not appearing anywhere in concert advertising

…or the instrument, for that matter – how’s a person to expect a singer with piano if only the singer is mentioned? It might as well be a mandolin or a marching band.

2) Your name not appearing anywhere in the concert program

This happened to me in a student opera scenes concert. I played through the show, but there was no mention of me having been anywhere near the stage. In the end it turned out alright, though, for the teacher had spotted the students’ mistake, and she bought me a bottle of wine to say sorry. So in the end I was totally cool with that. (And drunk.)

3) People thinking your solo piece is an intermission

In a song recital there’s often a piano piece in the middle so the singer can rest and drink some water. The pianist doesn’t need to rest because she’s a superhero, and therefore plays alone for the audience to enjoy. Sometimes, however, the audience interprets this as an intermission, and happily chats away through the piece. The boldest take out snacks and drinks and have a jolly good time, while the pianist cultivates very dark thoughts.

4) Playing with singers considered “just accompanying”

I’ve often been told that what I’m doing is not as impressive as being a soloist. “But Jenna, you’re not playing, you’re just accompanying!”

“Just so that you know”, I tell these people in my head, “playing the piano parts of songs is a specific skill that has to be learned and it’s ACTUALLY QUITE HARD TO DO WELL. Also, I really am playing the piano even though someone is singing at the same time, and it really is my concert too. If it wasn’t my concert, I WOULDN’T BE THERE.”

Then some things a pianist should love about performing with singers:

​1) Getting to play Christmas songs

No need to explain this one. It’s just plain awesome.

2) Being the superhero

The singer accidentally does something weird – jumps three pages, starts singing too early or too late, or whatever – and you put on your pianist superhero cape and jump in to save them. The audience doesn’t notice anything, and the song continues flowing on like nothing ever happened. You keep a straight face, but inside, you’re glowing.

3) An audience member telling you after a concert that “the piano really is half of the performance”

Yes, I know. But it makes me happy to hear you say it.

4) You’re not alone

Whatever I might complain about, in the end it’s just so rewarding to make music with another human being. Making music is much more fun and fulfilling when you have two perspectives instead of one. Music doesn’t combine your personalities, it transcends them into something that would be quite unreachable on your own. And you get to wear matching outfits.

P.S. If you screw up while someone is singing, people might not notice. So all in all it’s great.