Sunday, February 10, 2013

Some of my current favorites...

Gets me through church services with energy to SPARE
Two of my favorite things.  And two of VWH's very least favorites.
Because he mesmerizes my son, and calms him down when little else does.
This WOULD be one of my favorite things if it ever came down in price enough to purchase.


FLEECE!  Fleece fleece fleece fleece fleece.

Brooke Fraser. This woman writes some incredible songs.
Got it for Christmas.  Love it just as much 2 months later.   
   

A splash of color helps dim the winter gloom.

Always favorites.




Saturday, February 9, 2013

On Being an, ahem, "Accompanist"



Serving as an accompanist is usually hair-raising, rarely simple, and never straight-forward.  I’m of the opinion that, as a species, accompanists top the list of “those taken advantage of.”  For example, did you know that we are actually not accompanists?  Nope.  If you truly understand our skill set you would call us ‘collaborative pianists.’  Most instrumental music is written “for (insert instrument) and piano.”  Not “for (insert instrument) with simple piano accompaniment in the background.”  I recently played a trumpet sonata that the teacher fittingly referred to as a “solo piano sonata with trumpet obligato.”  He is a smart, smart man.

It’s important to note that collaborative pianist does NOT mean:
                -Private teacher
                -Vocal coach
                -Counting buddy
                -Diction reference
                -Metronome
                -Translator
                -Tuner                               
                -Psychologist
Oh no you didn't.
You musicians (and singers…) fail all too often to realize that CPs easily spend as much time as you do preparing music.  We have 10 times as many notes and don’t have the luxury of reading only one line of music at a time.  I’ve probably practiced 30 hours for your saxophone recital, full of weird twentieth century music (and did I mention that it’s for saxophone?), plus rehearsals and the performance, and I might make $100 for it.  Woot.  I could make more watching your pet chinchilla.

So it’s clear that we’re not in it for the money.  No. To us, it’s a sport.  Being a CP is the musician’s equivalent of competing in the X Games.  It’s dangerous, risky, and never goes the same way twice.  Consider the following example:

Example 1:  You are accompanying a senior trumpet recital.  After a lengthy piano solo, the trumpeter miscounted and has failed to come in.  Do you:
                A) Keep going and hope he’ll catch up
                B) Stop playing and wait for him to come in
                C) Go back and replay your solo
                D) Improvise a funky vamp while waiting for him to figure out where he is
                E) Throw your hands up in the air and walk off stage

The answer?  Well, here’s where it gets fun.  It COULD be any of the options, but rarely is the same one twice.  Depends on the circumstances.  In that particular instance, which has happened to me several times, I typically start with D, moving to C or B if warranted, and eventually land on A or E in dire situations.  You won’t be able to know until you’re in the moment.  It’s a reflex kind of thing. 

Example 2: You are accompanying a junior vocal recital.  The soprano has clearly forgotten what language she is singing in the middle of a French aria and is now inserting random syllables at will.  Do you:
                A) Keep going and hope she remembers the words
                B) Stop playing and start over
                C) Start singing along with the correct words
                D) Throw your hands up in the air and walk off stage

The answer? Well, you’d think A would be appropriate, but the real answer is Invisible Choice E) Brace yourself.  We choose E because Example 2 invariably leads to:

Example 3: You are accompanying a junior vocal recital.  The soprano has forgotten what language she is singing and is now inserting random syllables at will.  This mistake has thrown her for a loop and she is now singing an aria, originally written in 3/4, in 4/4.  Do you:
                A) Keep going and hope she figures it out
                B) Stop playing and start over
                C) Start singing along with the right words in the right meter
D) Instantaneously figure out how to insert an extra beat per measure into your accompaniment and hope it fits.

Again, any of these choices could, and very likely will, be utilized in various situations.  Best to be prepared for any of them.

CPs have the psychic capacity to realize when a mistake is coming and adjust before it happens.  The more you collaborate the better you get at this.  I recently rehearsed a sonata with a trumpeter and I made two rhythm mistakes because she was the first trumpeter I’d worked with that actually played the right rhythms.  CPs need to understand that whatever is wrong in a rehearsal will be 3 times MORE wrong in a performance.  CPs sacrifice their preparation and desire for a great pianistic performance to salvage the other person and make them look as good as possible.  Usually.

To summarize this point, I leave you with the all-too-common:

Example 4: You are accompanying a senior clarinet recital.  The clarinetist in question failed to give you music until two weeks before the recital, didn’t contact you about rehearsing until three nights before, and doesn’t have your money.  Do you:
                A) Play your best.  It’s a matter of principle.
                B) Play the pieces, but ignore all cues and tempo changes.
                C) Play a trombone sonata instead of the clarinet piece.
                D) Make signs and picket.

Well, my readership, I’ll leave that one up to you.

Friday, February 8, 2013

I'm back, she said cautiously.

Dear Bloggy Blog,

I’m sorry friend.  You have been neglected, it’s true.  There are a number of reasons for this; some good, some not so good.  My son turned one and has turned into a mess-making machine of a monster.  His idea of home sweet home is having as many items possible on floor level and watching Mommy step on them.  He laughs uproariously when we play hide and seek and shrieks uncontrollably at the bath.  He runs through the house with toilet paper flying behind him, like those message things hanging off the back of airplanes at the beach.  He is no longer fit for public consumption, unless you don’t mind him toddling around restaurants flirting with all women over the age of 60 and begging for food from anybody.  He is also completely, 100% adorable.  Basically the most gorgeous kid on the planet.  Just when I think I can’t stand the crud level in my house for one more second he amazes me with a huge smile, special hug, or new trick.  The Adventure of James is more terrifying and wonderful than I ever could have imagined.  It’s also exhausting.

My interest in blogging has led me to read other’s work more in the past few months.  This has been most enjoyable, but also discouraging, as the inevitable comparisons niggle the back of my brain.  To be completely candid, I haven’t blogged because I’m not as funny as I think, not as witty as him, or have as expansive a vocabulary as her.  I started blogging because I needed an outlet at work, and writing helped that.  Entering the realm of competitive blogging is dumb.  Not for me.  Must put these thoughts behind me.  Any suggestions?

Bloggy, I’ve started a new job.  And have had several part-time, “just this once” opportunities that have ended up being not just this once.  It’s great to network with the musicians in this fine city.  I’m loving teaching some very talented students.  And performing brings me to life in a certain way nothing else does.  But it takes me away from home and what was a routine just a few short months ago.  I’m fighting to figure out when it’s best to make music (and $!!) and preserve that huge part of my life, and when to say ‘no’ because finding childcare and balancing everything is way too stressful to be worth it.

Additionally, it’s winter.  In Rochester.  Which sucks.  I mean, falling snow is beautiful, and there’s nothing better than having your family in for the day with snow, soup on the stove, and light jazz in the background.  But snow in Rochester means you aren’t at home, because this city refuses to stop for inclement weather.  It means you have to drive in it, exist in it, dig out from it, and do so like it’s just another day.  When I was in college this didn’t bother me very much.  I think I was too busy with music to notice.  But since I’ve been married I notice.  And I don’t like it.  Every dreary, gloomy February that rolls around I start thinking, “I can’t live here another year.”  It’s much easier to hide under fleece blankets and glaze over watching Gilmore Girl marathons than acknowledge its soul-sucking existence.  I am more than ready for spring.  And being depressed about it is the pits.

So, there are some of my excuses dear blog.  But if you wade through all of that you can see, on the other side, that I have posted today.  I did it!  Here’s to a few more in 2013, and to the sun coming out sometime in the next 3 months.  Please.

This kid, and his daddy, keep me going.