Accompanist V. Soloist

I have found incredible joy and passion in playing the piano lately. It's undoubtedly because of Elaine, my piano teacher extraordinaire. She's opened a new world of musical possibilities for me, and my weekly lessons are one of the high points of my week. I was asked to play a solo in church a few weeks ago, and so Elaine took time out of our usual Koelling/Beethoven repertoire to give a listen to "If You Could Hie to Kolob." I played it for her, and she said, "You played it like an accompanist, not a soloist." It was not a compliment. The notion of accompanist versus soloist has become a theme in my life for the weeks following.

I like being an accompanist. I'm always learning new music, it teaches me to be a great sight-reader, and most people are very appreciative because not a lot of people are ready and willing to accompany. When I accompany, I follow along. I keep the beat. If the singer makes a mistake, I cover for them so it sounds like they were right and I made the mistake. I take the tempo the conductor or singer wants. I mimic their dynamics. Honestly, the best accompanists are rarely noticed. It's as if I were to say, "Quick! Name a band member of (insert famous singer of your choice here)." You probably can't do it unless you are a diehard fan. Don't get me wrong- I really do like accompanying- but there's no ego allowed, and very little creativity desired.

Solo playing is entirely different, and because of all the years I've spent accompanying, WAY out of my comfort zone. It requires a totally different train of thought. Techniques that work for Becca the Accompanist make Becca the Soloist sound like a robot. Elaine has encouraged me to be creative in the way I treat tempos, dynamics, and other facets of my repertoire. It is an amazing new world for me. Elaine says, "Be a little self-indulgent!" She is so wise. I know that in the past I would play my solo pieces completely differently at home than I would in a performance. At home I felt more emotionally connected to the piece because I would take liberties and play things just the way I wanted, yet, when the time came to perform I would reign myself in thinking that the way I played at home was fun for me, but that no one was really interested in hearing my pregnant pauses or fancy dynamics. I'm breaking out of that shell, and it is so exciting.

I think in life there are times when we all are soloists or accompanists. So much of my life is accompanist territory: being a mother means that frequently what I want or feel takes a backseat. I don't (usually) mind it- I love my family and I want them to be happy. I pretty much toe the line in life: I try to deliver what my family wants, what my religion wants, what the world wants. But sometimes, I need to break out. I think that's why running has been so vital to my mental health: race day is all about me and my performance. I've been leaning into my discomfort with the spotlight, and when I played my solo in church, I played it just like I practiced at home, and just how I felt it inside. Ironically, it was technically one of my best performances, but more importantly, I have never received so much positive feedback about a performance in my life. It's so interesting to me that a soloist perspective that might seem a little self-centered created an emotional response for so many in the audience.

I don't want to be a full time "accompanist." It would turn me into a martyr and a bitter hag. On the flip side, I've dealt with a few full time "soloists" in my day, and dealing with people who think I ought to tolerate their every whim also turns me into a bitter hag. The bottom line is that I need a little of both in my life. It's good for me to learn to set my own needs aside and look out for others, but it's also good for me to hold the star position in my own life every now and again. I hope I can strike the right balance...