When is the last time you performed something without using the pedal? That’s right, no pedal at all.
As it happens, I did exactly that on Sunday night. I was thinking about that while driving home, trying to remember the last time I’d omitted all pedal. There was one occasion several years ago.
Christ & Saint Stephen’s in midtown Manhattan features a dome above the altar area. A baritone I played for had included “Why do the nations rage” from Messiah on his recital program. The piano reduction, 16th note tremelos, sounded like what you might call a bloody mess! The singer’s girlfriend, a professional cellist, attended the dress rehearsal, for which I shall always be grateful. She suggested that I play 8th notes at first, but even that sounded too muddy for audience consumption. Then she suggested playing quarter note chords, no tremolo at all, without any pedal. Amazingly enough, that worked.
Prior to that experience, the only time I played without pedal was probably in college, when playing Baroque music. At the time, I was a die-hard original sound freak, or preferred to come as close as possible given that I was playing a piano rather than a harpsichord. That certainly meant that the pedal was not to be used at all.
Since college, I have discovered that using the pedal on every note of a continuo bass line (i.e. quarter notes) enhances the sound without blurring it. But it must be used judiciously! Just tap it. The idea is to allow the strings to vibrate without making the sound last longer. You will hear the sound become rounder, closer to cello pizzicato.
Sunday night’s concert venue was a large church with high, valuted ceilings. The reverberation time was at least 4 seconds. We performed Copland’s “The Promise of Living” with a large group of combined choruses. The version on our program featured a piano four-hands accompaniment.
Both of us arrived at the piano, sat down and looked at each other. Whose score would we use? After we solved that question, my fellow pianist said, “Do you want to pedal?” I said, “Go for it!” He was playing the secondo part. The pedal would be easier for him to reach. In addition, he would be playing the part with the harmonic rhythm.
Soon after, we heard how live the acoustics were in the space. The piano was some distance away from the singers. We decided not to use the pedal at all, in order to provide as much clarity as possible.
I’m happy to say it worked! A professional singer, who sang an aria during the program, was sitting in the audience during the Copland. She and I were talking afterwards, when she said she heard clarity, and it sounded as if we had pedaled.
Have you ever performed with no pedal?
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Bravo in Barcelona. Shutterstock image. Source: Pixabay.
A new blog post! Surprising, I know. Having a few days’ vacation time gives me an opportunity to catch up a little.
A most amazing thing happened in musical theater class a couple of weeks ago. I’m so excited to have a chance to tell you all about it!
A student took her turn a few minutes into the class, singing “Almost There” by Randy Newman.
She had nailed “All That Jazz” by John Kander just the week before, so I was anticipating that this would also be wonderful.
As it happened, she was anxious about something. When she began to sing, I could barely hear her. I wanted to get into it and play, but my sound would have covered her voice.
Why was she nervous?
It could have been anything.
Was she coming down with something?
Was she unprepared?
Was she working on one aspect of vocal production rather than performing the song?
What was going on?
She was worried about the high note at the end of the first phrase, so she held back out of fear that her voice might crack. This is a freshman class. The students are shy about making a fool of themselves in front of other people, even in class. (I’ve been there myself so many times! As a freshman, I was so nervous in my first voice jury that I forgot every word after the title of a slow song in English! I changed my major immediately.)
The professor, who is also her voice teacher, identified the problem and found a way to deal with it. Among other things, she vocalized the student to a top note a third above the one she was concerned about.
And THEN…
On the fourth or fifth try, she knocked everyone out of their chair! She was SO GOOD!!! It was perfect.
Next:
The professor talked about how well the student had just performed, giving her kudos for her substantial progress this semester. She talked about how gratifying it was to witness this as a teacher, saying, “If I had my shoes, I’d throw them!” ++
Huh?
She elaborated. In the African-American tradition, when something is “too good,” audience members throw their shoes! *
And then the professor burst into tears. It was so moving.
The student was in tears soon after.
And the class was speechless.
And that, for me, is what it’s all about.
++ Class is held in a studio with a dance floor. Everyone takes off their shoes so the floor remains grit-free. If a dancer were to trip on grit, s/he could sprain, dislocate or break something, putting him or her out of the game for a long time. So that’s why the professor didn’t have her shoes!
*Both professor and student happen to be African-American. After class, I shared with the professor that I worked in an African-American church in Brooklyn for quite a while, also performing in other venues with the music director, who is a wonderful singer. However, when things were “too good,” no one threw their shoes. So where did that come from? She said it’s a Southern thing. People even throw their shoes in church!
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50% off!!! Absolutely NO JARGON! Even my non-musician little sister says so.
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Collaborating with children’s voices is something that requires listening and imagination. The first thought many pianists have is, “I can’t play too loud. I’ll cover them up!”
Unfortunately, the thinking process sometimes stops there.
Are there other options?
When the only goal is to stay out of the way, is that enough? How can we not be too loud and still be expressive?
In a recent performance with children’s choir, the program included “The Birds’ Lullaby” by Marilyn Broughton. I’ll refer to her beautiful composition in the following examples.
Example 1
Dynamics
The first step in finding expression, for me, is to find workable dynamics. My goals are to:
express the text;
support the singers; and
make the piano solos interesting while enhancing the entire piece.
Introduction
In the introduction, the indicated dynamics were helpful. Piano and mezzo-piano needed to be there, and the crescendo to a level above mp needed to be practiced. I looked through the piece to determine how far that could go. I wanted to reach the loudest dynamic level on the downbeat of bar 7, then diminuendo into the choir’s mp entrance (but not below).
Accompanying the singers
At the singers’ entrance, the pianist’s role changes. S/he must listen in a different way. How can s/he be supportive without getting in the way? Where does the pianist’s expression come from?
To be supportive of the singers, simply disappearing from the fabric of sound is not an option. The choir’s pitch and rhythm could lose their integrity.
Bass line
In this piece, the bass line can certainly match the singers’ sound. It does not need to be softer! Since the bass is in a different range from the voices, it will not be covering the voices.
Counter-melody
As for the right hand when the singers enter and beyond, the top line can be more prominent. When played with a focused sound, it will be heard as a counter-melody.
Example 2
Moving part
On the second page, the short piano interlude begins on the word “through,” with a crescendo into the next chorus entrance. With a little advance planning and practice, this moving line can be interesting. In fact, it propels the piece while the singers hold a long note. They also need to breathe! The pianist’s crescendo to mf encourages them to sing their next entrance at that dynamic level without even thinking.
In scores where dynamics are indicated only in the voice part(s) or the piano part, both singers and pianists can benefit by looking at the markings in the other parts. What if the dynamics apply to both? (Why wouldn’t they?)
Interludes
This piece has three verses, with the voice parts expertly arranged differently for each (i.e. canon at the measure, canon at 2 measures, and crossing voices). The two piano interludes are nearly identical. Our job is to make them interesting! I wanted to find a way for the interludes to sound different from each other while matching the singers’ volume at the end of their verse and meeting them at their new volume at the start of the next.
First
The first interlude worked well with a simple arc, soft to louder, then diminuendo into the second verse, which was softer than the first. The dynamic scheme I used was mp to mf, then dim. to p.
Second
Finding a compelling way to play the second interlude was a little harder. After trying two or three different ideas, I noticed that the third verse was marked with a louder dynamic. I wanted to crescendo into the singers’ entrance.
So I found a way to start the interlude piano, then play a dynamic arc (cresc. and dim.) earlier than in the first interlude. Following the diminuendo, I could then crescendo from piano to mezzo-forte. This time, I played from p to mp to p, then cresc. to mf.
Problem solved? Not entirely.
The right hand of the piano part was in the same range as the singers’ entrance. My right hand melody continued past the singers’ entrance. So I needed a way to crescendo without covering them up.
Voilà!
It took a little longer to realize that the right hand could diminuendo while the left hand, which had moving notes, could crescendo at the same time. It worked like a charm. The interlude was compelling, it supported the singers, and nothing interfered with the children’s voices.
If playing a simultaneous dim. and cresc. seems like a juggling act, it might help to think about it in a different way. Try thinking about your feet. When we walk, we transfer weight from one foot to the other. One foot has more weight on it than the other. They feel different.
Another instance would be like driving a stick shift. One foot depresses the accelerator while the other releases the clutch. Now get the same feeling in your hands that you have in your feet. Problem solved!
In listening to pianists, my impression is that many people cresc. and dim. with both hands doing the same thing at the same time. However, playing fugues requires voicing separate parts, even when two or more parts are in the same hand. That requires using different amounts of weight on separate fingers. So why not apply this to other music? Why not use each hand differently when playing with hands together?
Postlude
The lullaby ended softly. The short postlude needed some shape, so I decided to begin mp, then diminuendo, with focused, high bell tones at the end.
Source: Pixabay. Public domain.
Followup
You may be wondering how I know that my ideas were effective. You are absolutely correct that a performer’s assessment of her/his own performance might be inaccurate.
And here’s my reason: Immediately after the concert, several audience members approached me to say how much they had enjoyed what they had heard!
Look for my next post: “PianoAnd: The lid. Full stick, 1/2 stick, or none at all?”
My book will help you take a step back, save practice time, learn more music, and perform with confidence. Whether teaching, playing solo, or collaborating with other musicians, you will find many practice- and performance-tested suggestions here.
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Collaborative pianists need all the same technical skills required of soloists, and some would argue that they need to be able to play mezzo forte and under.
My immediate reaction was, “Wait a minute!” Let’s look more closely.
Collaboration is working with others to do a task and to achieve shared goals. It is a recursive[1] process where two or more people or organizationswork together to realize shared goals, (this is more than the intersection of common goals seen in co-operative ventures, but a deep, collective determination to reach an identical objective[by whom?][original research?]) — for example, an endeavor[2][3] that is creative in nature[4]—by sharing knowledge, learning and building consensus. Most collaboration requires leadership, although the form of leadership can be social within a decentralized and egalitarian group.[5] In particular, teams that work collaboratively can obtain greater resources, recognition and reward when facing competition for finite resources.[6] Collaboration is also present in opposing goals exhibiting the notion of adversarial collaboration, though this is not a common case for using the word.
(Note: color and bolding added by GS for emphasis.)
Breaking it down
This implies much more than the prevailing misconception, by now outdated, concerning collaborative piano playing. Even after more than 50 years of the progress begun by Gerald Moore and further championed by Gwendolyn Koldofsky and others, a significant number of pianists continue to subscribe to the habit of just showing up without practicing.
An additional component of this view seems to be a desire to stay out of the way!
I strongly disagree with this idea. If one’s sole interest is not to be heard, then why show up at all? (Gerald Moore’s humorous book, “Am I too Loud?” was first published in 1962!)
The author of the book quoted above says, “some would argue that they need to be able to play mezzo forte and under.” If one is to interpret this as a recommendation to play mf and under at all times, I have to ask, “Why?”
The music
The piano part/reduction is part of the total fabric of sound. It is crucial to have a point of view about the music which is expressed primarily by the manner in which one plays.
Even when playing for very young musicians, the bass line can be prominent. They need the support. An obligato line above or below the singers’ range should be heard. Introductions, interludes, and postludes are shaping the piece, not interfering. The rhythm should be clear and compelling, providing a foundation for inexperienced musicians. Why are we there? How are we supporting a young musician’s efforts if we may as well not be in the room at all? Do we not have a responsibility to be there?
In other situations, with more experienced singers and instrumentalists (who produce more sound), the solo line is not always the most interesting. Think of Beethoven’s “Spring” sonata (violin/piano), for example:
The violinist clearly has the theme throughout the opening statement. And then, in the 2nd system, 4th bar, the piano has thematic material, marked crescendo, proceeding without pause into a restatement of the same theme. Since the piano part is occupying a higher range at that point, it will be heard.
Note that the violin and piano parts are both marked piano, even though each plays thematic as well as non-thematic music. The equal dynamic markings would imply that both parts are to be heard. Why would the piano part be less important/played at a lower dynamic than the violin?
We have another example in Händel’s “Care selve” from Atalanta:
In this aria, the vocal and piano lines are beautifully interwoven. Listen to the incomparable Montserrat Caballé and her superb pianist, who should have been credited on YouTube! What do you hear? Is the pianist voicing his part? The bass line is always there, the melody is clear when echoing the singer, and the interludes fill the room.
A heads up: prepare to be floored!
Teatro Real de Madrid, 1979
When learning Handel’s “Sweet Bird,” I listened to several recordings so I could learn more about ornamentation. Roberta Peters’ performance with a flutist was stunning. They opted to do only the exposition (one page), then added two more pages of a duet. Their sounds blended perfectly, with the most amazing trills. I was in awe listening to the ensemble’s perfectly matched sound, ornaments rhythmically free (rather than using regular note values, the performers, who were often trilling in 3rds, used slower notes, then faster, then added a turn). I listened to the recording over and over, mesmerized.
Point of view
When I was a scholarship student at the Aspen Music Festival, the Juilliard String Quartet was in residence all summer. Their open rehearsals were attended by singers of all voice types and interests, and students who played a variety of instruments. Why were so many students attending, week in and week out? The quartet talked about the music. During one rehearsal, a disagreement continued for several minutes. The cross-rhythms in Brahms needed clarification among the players.
One instance in which cross-rhythms are found is in 6/8 time, when the notes can be divided into groups of 2 or 3. When there is one more than one part, both groupings can happen simultaneously.
In this memorable rehearsal, each player was staking a claim to the way he wanted to play a section containing cross-rhythms. The violist opted for one rhythmic grouping; the cellist another. When the 2nd violinist chose a larger note grouping, the 1st violinist decided, “I’ll just fit in.”
At that moment (it didn’t take long!), the other three players ganged up on him. “No! You have to make up your mind!”
The rehearsal had just become more… interesting, as the quartet’s cellist Joel Krosnick would say.
The decision was made, and the quartet tried it out. Each player was doing something different! It was wonderful.
What would have happened had everyone opted to “Just fit in?” How compelling can that be?
I submit that staying out of the way is not music, and it certainly is not collaboration. If you have nothing worth saying, why play at all? If you can’t be heard, what’s the point? What contribution does that make? How is that supportive?
Bottom line
In order to collaborate as pianists, we need to ask for the music in advance (and obtain it!), practice well, and have a point of view about the music. In rehearsals, our point of view may change. Collaboration means hearing what the other musicians have to say. An interpretation reached by sharing ideas is what collaboration aims to achieve.
To reiterate the definition provided above, when we collaborate, we:
…work together to realize shared goals [in] … a deep, collective determination to reach an identical objective…
What does “collaboration” mean to you? How did you arrive at your conclusions?
Comments welcome!
Check back for my next post, PianoAnd: Children’s voices
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Please take a look at my e-book!
“Goal-oriented Practice” Are you practicing well? What do you do when you hit a snag? How do you help your students practice?
Do you have a plan for putting difficult pieces together at performance tempo? How do you help your students achieve a steady tempo without slowing down in difficult passages?
This book will help you take a step back, save practice time, learn more music, and perform with confidence. Whether teaching, playing solo, or collaborating with other musicians, you will find many useful suggestions here.
50% off!!! Absolutely NO JARGON! Even my non-musician little sister says so.
Click on the link to see the book intro, table of contents, reviews, and reader comments.
What did you find here? What would you like to see? Comments welcome!
If this post has been helpful and you think your friends and contacts would benefit from reading it, please share.
Have you worked from scores containing editors’ markings that could be interpreted as being misleading? How did you proceed?
Last week I had the privilege of collaborating with a talented violinist, a high school senior. One piece on her recital program was the Trio Sonata for Flute, Violin and Continuo in G Major, BWV 1038, by J.S. Bach. The flutist was also a high school senior.
Both played very well. Baroque style, however, seemed to be unfamiliar to them. So they relied on the score much more than on listening to each others’ phrasing.
The edition we were using contained editors’ markings which were misleading if taken literally.
First rehearsal
This was to be our only rehearsal together, with the exception of a short time in the hall prior to the performance.
I liked many aspects of what I heard:
In-tune playing.
Good balance of sound (one player not louder or softer than the other).
Legato playing, appropriate for this largo movement.
Nice tempo.
In the “needs work” department:
• Give and take so the moving part could carry the music.
Each player needed to diminuendo on the long notes, as they had alternating parts. Both players were more familiar with other musical styles, where a crescendo would be called for instead.
Notice in this clip that the top part (flute) plays tied notes while the 2nd part (violin) has more melodic and rhythmic interest. The give and take in the sound when the players honor that approach changes the sound completely. Now it sounds baroque rather than romantic.
• The music needed forward motion.
This could be heard primarily in the flute part. The flutist, looking at the editor’s markings, playing the slurs as indicated. In addition, because she needed to breathe, she would breathe after a short note. That took just enough extra time to interrupt the flow of the music, whereas taking time away from a long note in order to breathe would not have had the same effect.
Take a look at the top two parts (flute and violin, respectively). Notice how the markings seem to ask for the longer note to be slurred to the shorter one?
The music flows when exactly the opposite phrasing is used, as in the notation at the right of this example:
So we changed it! The sound improved immediately.
Second rehearsal
This rehearsal was with violin and piano only. However, we had an opportunity to discuss the Bach.
At the end of the first rehearsal, my impression was that the violinist understood the changes we had made. The flutist had improved, but was still relying on the printed score more than listening to the flow of the music.
My suggestion was for the violinist and the flutist to get together by themselves. They attend the same school and have free time, so this was not a problem. I asked the violinist to coach the rehearsal, finding musical lines they could play together, such as this one:
My goal was to make any differences in phrasing between the two players as clear as possible. Rehearsing alternating lines might not have had the same effect.
Pre-recital and performance
I am delighted to say that the sound was transformed! During our brief time in the recital hall prior to the performance, we had just a few minutes to rehearse this piece. After marking in accidentals that crept up on both players, likely because of nerves, I felt encouraged. If everyone could remain calm, count, listen, and enjoy it, we had an excellent chance of performing well.
And… it happened! The audience loved what they heard, and I felt gratified.
Here are two YouTube videos of this beautiful piece. Enjoy!
One version, performed with piano:
And another version, this time with harpsichord:
Have you worked from scores containing editors’ markings that could be interpreted as being misleading? How did you proceed?
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These thoughts go through my head every time I open a difficult score for the first time. How about you?
Background
This is the slow section of Mozart’s Concerto for Violin and Orchestra #5, first movement. In other words, the “piano” part is an orchestral reduction.
The right hand, when played by the orchestra, is divided between two string parts. Pianists, though, are required to perform gymnastic feats in the reduction, playing both parts in the same hand.
This section of the concerto is serene, slow, and quiet. To achieve a murmuring sound on the piano is difficult, especially due to the fingers passing over one another and because the normally resulting accents must be avoided. (It is not possible to play all the notes in the right hand while keeping the hand quiet, playing only five keys ((one for each finger)), and not moving to a different range on the keyboard several times. In other words, don’t try this at home!)
Facebook comments
When I posted the above pic on Facebook, the following discussion ensued:
First, on 5/1:
[Photo caption]
The most recent addition to my catalog of Finger Busters.
[Discussion]
DG: Finger busters is right!
AE: What she said!
HW: Dang!
MDS: Wowser.
CBW: Oh my! 😦
Then, on 5/22:
[Photo caption]
Remember this? The “ack!” phase? Aced it in today’s performance. I feel a blog post coming on.
[Discussion]
CH: Looks “Greek” to me Gretchen but I’m grateful there are artists like you that let those like me enjoy the music!
CBW: OMG!!!
TP: Makes my head ache just looking at all those notes!!!
GS: Exactly. My 1st thought when opening a score is often, “I can’t play this… I’ll NEVER be able to play this… NO ONE can play this!”
And then I learn it.
TP: Some people like a challenge and some are gluttons for punishment!GS: And some find it necessary to freak out EVERY TIME. I don’t think child prodigies do that…
TP: In my trade we call it it SIDS…self induced disaster, the process of psyching yourself out before you even know what you’re up against! lol
GS: I b the expert!
SN: So how did the tempo end up?
GS: 120 and 72. Felt reasonable, thank God…
GN: A great feeling to have worked something out in practice and then play it in performance with no “hitches” . . . .nice work!
GS: Thank you!
KC: cool, still growing into the job, Gretchen, that is so great.
GS: Oh, I have the same reaction every time I open music I haven’t played that looks difficult.
Reality check
How long did it take to reach performance level with this piece?
Although my Facebook “bookend” posts were three weeks apart, I was busy when I first looked at the score. There was no time to practice it right away.
After consulting my practice notes, I realized that I had learned the piece at performance tempo in 8 or 10 days.
Got perspective?
This is not an idle question. I am genuinely curious. This is an aspect of people’s careers that is rarely talked about, as far as I know.
I am well aware that many musicians learn music faster than I do. One of the vocal coaching fellows at Tanglewood (there were 3 of us that summer) could learn even a newly composed score still in manuscript form and perform it in 3 days. He had the enviable ability to skip the practice stage most of us need to get the music into his hands. Currently head of the composition department at BU, he is a conductor, composer, wonderful pianist, and vocal coach.
My teacher at Aspen was practicing Hindemith slowly with the metronome when I arrived for my lesson one day. She had never played the piece. Four days later, she performed it flawlessly, much faster. So I went home and learned how to practice slowly with the metronome, increasing the tempo in increments.
On the other hand, another teacher practiced Schubert’s “Die Schöne Müllerin” for an entire year before performing it.
What was Horowitz’s time requirement for mastering the repertoire he performed? Rubinstein? Glenn Gould? Myra Hess? Clara Schumann?
A pianist who was interviewed on NPR, when discussing a recent CD release, let it be known that he had practiced one piece for 15 years before ever performing it!
So it seems that preparation time is highly variable.
First take
What do child prodigies say to themselves when first opening a score? Have you heard anyone talk about that?
I suspect that my self-talk may stem from the fact that I was not a prodigy. While there was music in my family, many musicians I know listened to recordings and attended concerts from an early age. Several had parents who were professional musicians. They had mentors who connected them with effective teachers. Good instruments were acquired early. All of that makes a difference. I’ve been playing “catch up.”
A childhood friend recently reminded me that, when I would be invited to go somewhere, my response would always be, “I can’t. I have to practice.”
Following my senior recital in college, a few friends came back to the recital hall from the distant reception to ensure that I was planning to attend. They were afraid I would go back to the practice room immediately. (I’m slow about packing up after a performance.)
B.B. King said it very well:
“It seems like I always had to work harder than other people. Those nights when everybody else is asleep, and you sit in your room trying to play scales.”
And now I’d like to thank my audience, who listens attentively whenever I practice and never, ever complains. And thanks also to everyone who commented on Facebook.
What do you say to yourself when you open a difficult score for the first time? Do you have a panic response? See it as a challenge? KNOW you’ll be fine even before you begin? Do you have an idea about how long it will take you to learn a piece before you’ve even started?
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A friend posted the following on Facebook in response to this series about congregational singing. Shared with permission.
To be honest, I see a generation that is crying out for the sustenance that traditional worship can bring. For boundaries, for beauty, for connection to something bigger than themselves.”
“As an educator, I think Lady Bird Johnson’s observation that children are “apt to live up to what you believe of them” still rings true. One of the lies of contemporary worship is that modern entertainment is the only way to engage the fleeting attention span of our youngest worshipers. The point of corporate worship isn’t to hook them with trappings of supposed cultural relevance, but to dedicate their lives to the glory of God, and be transformed by the sacred storytelling of Word and Sacrament.
What do you think? Comments welcome!
Please see previous posts in this series.
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Walt Disney Concert Hall by Frank Gehry. Source: Wikimedia Commons. Flickr.com user “Ilpo’s Sojourn”
When writing about Robin Williams’ passing, my thoughts needed to be put into written form. They were not all from one place, in that being on stage means the performer is not him/herself while on stage, in a way. Sports are something entirely different.
I want to say more about being an artist.
When the public attends a concert or watches a performance by other means, they can become mesmerized. It’s magic. It’s a chance to suspend cares and discomfort. They have the wonderful opportunity to enter another world.
Performers do that, too! Having the ability to do that is the reason many performers are on the stage in the first place.
I can’t speak for all performers, obviously, but just yesterday, I entered another world while practicing. Sometimes this occurs in mundane ways. Just before leaving home in the afternoon, I felt hungry. So I took an energy bar along and headed for a practice session. While practicing, I forgot all about being hungry. Five minutes after stopping, I was ravenous!
It is often not only possible, but necessary to place whatever problems or concerns one has into an invisible box while practicing, rehearsing, and performing. If the music doesn’t come first, the work is compromised. What are you going to do, turn to the audience when you miss a note and say, “Oh, sorry! I was thinking about… I forgot to turn off the over. I forgot to lock the door. I’m worried I might miss my plane. I’m planning dinner for tomorrow night!”
Performers have daily lives, just like everyone else. When they are not “on,” they can feel insecure and vulnerable. Think for a moment about what percentage of their time is actually spent performing. Not so much, right? That leaves plenty of time left over for whatever normal life is supposed to be.
Sometimes the difference between those two lives, performing and not, can be difficult to navigate. After a concert, there is very often a huge letdown. Just because someone is a good performer does not mean their entire personal life is wonderful, easy, ideal, glamorous… feel free to add your own terms here.
You may feel you know a performer if you follow his/her career. But that is just a small part of that person’s life.
I’ll give you one more example about the glamour involved: My piano trio drove from New York to Pennsylvania to play a concert. On the way back, we got lost and ended up stuck in traffic for miles. At some time around 3:00 a.m., we all became hungry at the same moment. Even though we were only 1/2 hour from home, we stopped at a highway rest area. So there we were, standing in the empty parking lot in concert dress, enjoying burgers and fries from Roy Rogers off the top of the cellist’s BMW (a relic), laughing about our glamorous lives. We arrived home at 4:00.
I’d do it again in a second. We had a blast. But the next day each of us had to get out of bed and practice.
