I got a recording yesterday of the performance of Barber’s “Hermit Songs” that my pianist, Ya-en, and I gave in December. It’s one of the few times I’ve actually been pleased with a recording of myself, and I’m excited to send it back to my mom and dad.
I’ve been working on a lot of technical issues with my teacher, and from that point of view, the evening was a success. I was able to apply a lot of what I’ve learned, and not fall into old habits (always a danger when revisiting literature).
I first performed the “Hermit Songs” on recital in graduate school, with my then-regular pianist, Alicja. We were placed together during our first semester and became both good friends and collaborators. I don’t remember the first few months of playing together, when surely we must have had to work out personalities and rehearsal habits. I only remember what it was like once we felt comfortable with each other.
It was wonderful. We would hang out socially, which only strengthened our collaboration, which in turn made us better friends. In no time at all, Alicja was my best friend. We played together for almost three years, and she even traveled with me to Iowa to give a recital for my family and friends there.
At some point, though, I started to take Alicja for granted. After she graduated, the school hired her to be a staff accompanist, and her already full schedule got busier. She couldn’t devote as much time to me as I wanted, and I got upset. Slowly but surely, both our friendship and collaboration eroded. Sure, there were other factors involved, but deep down I was mad that Alicja didn’t give me the attention I thought I deserved. Even though it was all my doing, it was still hard to lose both my best friend and my pianist.
I was talking to a non-musician friend about Alicja, and what it was like to work with her, when he had a revelation and compared it to dating. At first, I just laughed, but then I realized he had a point. Working with a pianist for the first time really is a bit like a first date. You’re nervous. You try to be witty, compelling, and smart. You hide your faults as best you can, while trying to figure out the other person’s faults. You hope they like your choice in repertoire, and secretly hope they, too, like cheesy Italian opera arias.
In fact, that’s exactly what it was like with Ya-en. We’d been assigned to each other, but we still had to win each other over. I could tell immediately that she was incredibly musical. She doesn’t speak much English, but she almost instinctively found the color and mood of each song. She responded to what I did musically, and I found that her playing made me sing differently.
After the nerves of the first few rehearsals wore off, I suddenly felt we’d come to a standstill. There wasn’t anything wrong with the way she played, but something was missing.
During our first meeting, we’d both talked about how much we wanted to find a real partner, someone to work with, not for. We both had good ideas and suggestions for each other. It didn’t seem to make sense: Why weren’t we playing better together?
It was only after our performance that I realized what had been missing. We had had an hour to kill between our rehearsal in the hall and the performance, so we sat around, just talking. Our conversation moved from the other pieces presented on the program to how long she’d been at the Hochschule, to our birthdays and how old we were, and how many brothers and sisters we each have. We talked about what it was like to be a foreigner in Germany, and how sometimes it was just odd that we rehearse in German. In that hour, we stopped being just two people who played music with each other and started being Ya-en and Jennifer. We weren’t yet best friends, like Alicja and I had been, but we were no longer just pianist and singer.
That interaction, that personal element, is what was missing. It makes sense: When two strangers are thrown together and asked to make music and be vulnerable, of course it’s not going to all work out great from the start. The relationship between singer and pianist is intimate and involves a lot of trust. After all, on stage only one of the two has the music. If I mess up, forget a word, skip a few measures, or get completely lost, I’d rather have my friend up there to rescue me than just the girl assigned to accompany me. Wouldn’t you?
