Happy New Year, everyone! I’d like to suggest a New Year’s resolution for everyone in the music business who is going to play a recital this year – keep it simple and do name the piano player.
It may come as a shock to you that I have a few pet peeves. One of my biggest has had a real workout lately, and it has even shown up in the program I am using to write this particular blog. When I went to imbed a tag for this blog (for those of you who don’t know, a “tag” is something of a shortcut to help classify blogs by content) I searched the tag list for “piano.” Up popped “Accompanying Piano.” No no no no no no…..
Almost 25 years ago I moved to Los Angeles to study at USC (the University of Surrounded Caucasians – just like Santa and Jesus, it’s white!). The real reason for going was to study conducting with Dan Lewis but the application deadline for that program had passed. No matter – I snuck into the Accompanying program. The goal was to get into USC and this provided a convenient back door.
Over the years I had lost interest in the solo piano repertoire and discovered a great love for chamber music, especially the works of Brahms. My friends knew that the easiest way to get me to agree to play on a recital was to dangle one of his pieces in front of me, and my good friend Fred did just that. The F Major sonata, op. 99, was on the docket. This, however, led to a moment where I knew I could no longer participate in the program.
There is a wonderful moment in the F Major where the cello line comes to a stop and the piano continues on with the phrase for a measure, right before they both reiterate another theme. Fred and I took this movement into one of my lessons, and at this point in the movement Fred started slowing down. I remember looking over at him somewhat puzzled because I had another full measure to go. The conversation went something like this:
Me: What are you doing?
Fred: I’m slowing down. It’s the end of the phrase.
Me: No it isn’t. I still have a measure to go.
My teacher: But you have to slow down with him.
Me: Why?
My teacher: Because he’s the cellist.
Me: But it’s not the end of the phrase.
My teacher: That doesn’t matter. He’s the cellist.
Me: (internally) WTF?????????????
That was it. I knew I could no longer be a part of this program and I knew I could no longer study with this person. Forget the fact that all of Brahms’ sonatas are clearly titled “for Piano and whatever instrument,” as indeed all the sonatas of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann, Schubert, and Mendelssohn were. Forget the fact that all of these composers were pianists, and no matter how you parse it the piano writing is clearly dominant in their works. Forget the fact that Brahms clearly continues the phrase in the piano part. What was more important to my teacher was that “he’s the cellist.”
From that moment anyone who has made the unfortunate mistake of referring to me as an “accompanist” has had their head bitten right off. I don’t “accompany.” I play chamber music. But it goes further than that – the whole “collaborative pianist” thing I find completely bogus as well. If you’re playing chamber music, and you’re playing it well, then of course you are collaborating! What else would you be doing? That phrase is redundant, unnecessary, and a poor attempt at covering up the fact that if you are going to play a majority of the chamber music literature you’re gonna need a pianist! Sorry folks, but them’s the facts.
So I propose this New Year’s resolution – just call us “pianists.” Keep it simple and move on. We are not “collaborative pianists.” We are never, ever “accompanists.” That particular word goes against the very concept of chamber music. I don’t care if you have hired me or what, I’m playing chamber music here, and you need to understand that.
One more thing – when you are typing out your program take a look at the original title that the composers have given each piece. If the music was written by that aforementioned cadre of fairly talented gentlemen you will find that the piece is entitled “Sonata for Piano and…….” – not the other way around. They did that for a reason.
By the way, my teacher wasn’t just wrong, he was dead wrong. I lost a lot of respect for him that day, and I knew that my days in that particular program were numbered. As for my friend Fred – I’d give important parts of my body (not my hands….. or my right foot, for that matter) just to have the chance to play chamber music with him again. He’s a wonderful human being and a fabulous cellist. But, my brother, if we ever again play the Sonata for Piano and Violoncello in F Major, Op. 99, of Johannes Brahms, I absolutely 100% guarantee you that at that moment, tucked inside that glorious slow movement, I will not slow down. Ain’t gonna happen.
Sincerely, your friend Bill, AKA the pianist.
THANK YOU! From Elizabeth , a pianist.
Once I was playing a lieder and piano solo recital in the Jewish Museum in Vienna. Before the concert I met up with the venue admin to sign contract and be paid. We had agreed 1000 euro each for myself and the singer. The admin man thought he would give me 800 and the singer 1200. So I told him there would be no concert. I mostly play solo, a few concertos, a bit of chamber music, but whenever I’m playing with a singer, believe me, I really check we’re getting the same money (which I think is generous, since I often play a few solo pieces, because their precious voices can’t sing for the length of a whole 90 minute concert).
I am a terrible, terrible pianist – and am now hampered by a DuPuytren’s contracture in my right hand, which makes treble octaves a thing of the past – but as a choral singer and sometime mezzo-soprano recitalist, I always make a point to learn the piano of whatever piece I’m working on. The piano has a voice, just as I do, and I want to know it and hear it in all its glory.
Love this Bill! My experience has been with my mother on the piano accompanying soloists for their senior recitals or a piano accompanist for the ballet classes I teach. I have come to appreciate how much the live accompanist versus a cd or as I say a dead accompanist, has enhanced the quality of a ballet class. That having been said, I can understand how frustrating this must have been! Thanks for the clarification!
Now I ESPECIALLY want you to play that Sonata for Clarinet and Piano I sent to you. If as a frosh at Eastman I was enlightened w/ the above, I probably would have called it Sonata for Piano & Cello (it’s original & primary incarnation). Incidentally, for most of the piece, the pianist is in the best position to calls the shots- I felt good about how well the parts are interwoven. I hope you give it a whirl.
I have such had time finding pianists that don’t realize they are part of the conversation and we must work together for a unified presentation. Doing this makes every performance of a piece with different artists, well…….interesting. One would never go see a play where only one voice acts out their part and everyone else just gets out of the way….well some do attend such nonsense. I for one am not interested in that kind of “performance” ; to watch or to participate in. Bill, I hope this resolution reaches all artists and they all make an effort to be part of the whole. You were not asked to play cello piece with submissive pianist, but to play BRAHMS, it is what the two together interpret what Brahms was trying to portray; the focal point should be the music of Brahms not the music of cellist X inspired by Brahms.
My Dear, Wonderful Bill, This tickles me to remember that moment in the Brahms F Major. I was well trained by my first cello teacher, who’s mother was an excellent pianist whom I had the good fortune of performing with on a regular basis. They both instilled within me great respect and understanding of the extreme difficulty of the pianist’s role in preparing the works of Brahms, Beethoven, etc, etc… They also warned me about the importance of carefully choosing which pianists to perform with in chamber music/recital. It was no mistake when I asked you to (pretty please!!) play for my master’s recital. Thank you for clearing up confusion around terminology as I’ve been unsure of the title “collaborative piano”. I have always believed this title intends to give the pianist equal recognition, unlike the title of accompanist. I recall Anne Epperson changing the name of that department @ the Cleveland Institute from “Accompanying” to “Collaborative Piano”. Not sure if they still call it that, but if this term/title is outdated, I am happy to discontinue it’s use. In fact, I’m playing a duo recital this weekend and think I used that word in my bio. Will see if there’s time to remove it before Sunday!! Btw, I still love our performance of the Brahms F / Debussy on cassette tape. I’d like to have it transferred to cd for my archive. I also have a funny memory of performing the Brahms 1st mov’t w/ you on my jury one semester and the Schoenfelds stopping us in the development because the piano was “too loud”. LOL!! (Please correct me if this is inaccurate.) Playing chamber music with YOU NOW would be a dream come true…and if we play Brahms F again, Honey, we will play that glorious phrase however your sweet heart desires!! <3 F
I reprinted my Northwestern grad school programs simply because of their policy of listing the pianist as ‘assisted by’. He wasn’t ‘assisting’ me. He was carrying my artistic ass through two hours of music. I really wanted to list his name first, with ‘annoyed by Douglas Webster’…
Marcus Thompson shared a story once about playing a Beethoven Sonata in a Galamian class where Galamian asked the pianist to “leave out the tuttis.”
you have got to be kidding.
As a naive little middle-school cellist getting ready for contest, I wanted to perform a duet with my best friend. It seemed like a reasonable thing, but when I tried to register, I was amazed to find that I couldn’t. It was simply not permitted to have a cello-piano duet.
Considering how much more difficult her part was (and agreeing with Douglas Webster’s comment about carrying my artistic ass)…..*headdesk*