I, Page Turner

The World's Greatest Chamber Music Party is in full swing, entering week two of the month-long Seattle Summer Chamber Festival. This is only arts genre in which Seattle is pre-eminent. We have a fine symphony, a good ballet, a very good opera and the best large jazz ensemble on the West Coast. But only in chamber music can Seattle claim to be at a world-wide pinnacle.

For years, I have watched page turners, fascinated by the interaction with their pianist; I don't know if I am weird or if others in the audience are similarly wired. Whatever . . .. 

During opening night of the Summer Festival, I mentally composed most ot this imagined confession  -- and yes, was still thrilled by the music; multi-tasking, afterall.  

I, Page Turner

I am paid to be unnoticed.

On stage, I sit off the left shoulder of the pianist, intently reading the music, anticipating her reaching the end of each page, unobtrusively rising, stretching awkwardly across to the opposite corner of the score, making sure to grasp only a single page, and snapping it over when time. She or he as the case may be nods imperiously at the same moment: do they really think only they can read the notes? Idiot: that’s why they hired me! Whatever.

If I screw up, could I derail the performance? Probably not. She has known for weeks what she will be playing, learned the score at home. She arrived three days ago and rehearsed with the rest of the quartet four or five hours working out nuances of their presentation of the work. Still, if I flipped two pages or miss-read there could be momentary stumbles. So, I am paid to pay attention.

Often, easier said than done. John Cage or Phillip Glass are so effing boring! Then again, that Bartok piece commissioned by Bennie Goodman is so exciting it’s impossible to sit still. Beethoven’s Archduke is so beautiful you’d have to be deaf – as he was – not to be moved, not sit still. More often than not, the music lures my mind to wander off into my own; I am a jazz pianist, after all. Being paid not to tap my foot, bob my head, neither to grin nor grimace.

At the end of the performance, I wait while the “artistes” take their bows. Then they troop off, and I meekly follow, carrying the score. Back stage, there may be a nod or brief “thanks” but most often, no word. They are too wrapped up in the audience’s applause, in congratulating one another, in deciding whether to troop out again and take another bow. So it goes. I’m paid to be the invisible accessory.

Speaking of pay: he or she gets many hundreds for their rehearsal and performance (plus, here in Seattle, travel expenses and free room and board.) While true: no one pays to come and watch me turn pages, but still . . . $50? And they are featured in the program with bio and picture and praise (much of which their agent writes.) No one knows my name. I am paid to be anonymous.

Someday. Someday, I’ll be known – maybe even have a page turner off my shoulder? Well, second thought, probably not, not for jazz; only these "classical artistes" appear to need them. Anyway, soon enough, all of them likely will be using tablet computers and managing their own scores via foot pedal, page turners just nostalgic artifacts of "the good old days." Oh, well . . ..

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Tonight's the All Star Ganme. Well, we've got our All Stars right here on stage in Benaroya. For those of you who can reach Seattle, get a ticket and experience the world's great artists presenting wonderful, accessible music. Intimate, gorgeous, challenging listening; a festival, indeed. (But pay no attention to that page turner.) @ www.seattlechambermusic.org