How did you become a collaborative pianist?

A conversation with a fellow collaborative pianist the other day got me thinking how I ended being a collaborative pianist for a living.

I believe my first accompanying experience was in third grade, when I made a cassette tape recording of the ’80s hit, “That’s What Friends Are For,” with my classmate’s mom. For real.

When my younger sister began violin lessons, I was her pianist for recitals and competitions.

In middle school, I was the accompanist for the Chorale, an auditioned, all-girls ensemble.

In high school I was the accompanist for the studio of a local violin teacher — my first paying gig! I also studied chamber music at Juilliard and Aspen.

In college I accompanied weekly lessons, juries, and recitals for several singers and violinists, was active in the chamber music program, and was the pianist for Vocal Repertoire and Performance class. At one point the faculty expressed concern that I had exceeded the course credit limit for music performance. I also played for the studio of a local flute teacher.

In light of my musical history, my current career shouldn’t be surprising. I’ve always enjoyed making music with others more than making music alone. Still, if you had asked me five years ago what I’d be doing today, I definitely would not have answered, “Being a pianist.”

10 Universal Truths for Collaborative Pianists

  1. You will have bad page turners.
  2. When students say, “The piano part is easy,” they’re lying.
  3. Moments after you accept a gig, another one will come along for the same time that pays more and is closer to your house.
  4. When you’re overwhelmed in December and April, you should think of July.
  5. When you’re bored in July, you should think of December and April.
  6. Follow the conductor, not the chorus.
  7. When you finally decide to recycle the photocopies that you haven’t needed in months, someone will ask for them.
  8. It really is a small world.
  9. People who forget to tell you they’ve cancelled their lesson are infinitely more annoying than people who call you “accompanist.”
  10. You should’ve practiced more yesterday.

How To Learn An Orchestral Reduction

  1. Declare valiantly that you will learn the orchestral reduction exactly as written because of the small fortune spent on fancy conservatory training.
  2. Develop insecurities about your technical ability, practice habits, and value of aforementioned training.
  3. Curse the editor, who forgot that humans have only ten fingers and probably couldn’t play the stupid reduction either.
  4. Listen to recordings and/or study the full score. Recognize the ingenuity of the composer while continuing to curse the editor who tried to cram every note into the reduction.
  5. Swallow pride and reduce the orchestral reduction. Does this make it an orchestral concentrate? (Tee hee. My husband will be proud of that one.)
  6. Practice, practice, practice.