"What are your five?"
Ask this of any opera singer and they'll rattle off a combination of English, French, Italian, German names. It is the audition package. Never are all five heard but any of the five could be heard starting and stopping at any point the panel chooses.
The audition season is like an absurd game of Texas Hold 'Em. In this version, you can choose your hand to select the strongest combination of cards possible but you're never allowed to see the flop. You ante and check, bluff and raise hoping that their cards will complete your hand; praying to win the pot. Sometimes you win! Othertimes you turn the cards over only to discover they were playing Pinochle the entire time. Damn. You've lost time and money but hopefully learned something about yourself and how to play the next round better.
Pinochle or not, I'm working on my Five. "Come Scoglio" from Cosi Fan Tutte is looking like my Ace this season.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Return to the scene of the crime
I'm not a good blogger. I once told a friend of mine, who is a wonderful writer and consistent blogger, that I could never do it well because I would continually edit myself down to an empty page. I'm never going to be the regular poster. I know that about myself. And if there's anything my french stylist, Phillipe, has taught me it's that I must know myself! That, and I should keep volume in the crown whenever I get a cut. So I find myself with things to share. Normally, I'd use Facebook but lately it's outside my digital reach.
So I return to my poor, neglected nub of a blog.
After months away, I shoulder my way thru the door - the log-in still works but the abandoned hinges protest with a groan. Looking around I see my unpublished drafts sitting in an inch of dust. There are no cobwebs or comments, not the faintest of signs of digital life. There isn't even spam. The hermetic seal of a site ignored by the internet has kept it undisturbed, like the lost tomb of an ancient Egyptian.
There's definitely work to do. But for now, there's a place to put things which is all I really need.
So I return to my poor, neglected nub of a blog.
After months away, I shoulder my way thru the door - the log-in still works but the abandoned hinges protest with a groan. Looking around I see my unpublished drafts sitting in an inch of dust. There are no cobwebs or comments, not the faintest of signs of digital life. There isn't even spam. The hermetic seal of a site ignored by the internet has kept it undisturbed, like the lost tomb of an ancient Egyptian.
There's definitely work to do. But for now, there's a place to put things which is all I really need.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Ok guys, where's the camera?
I had an audition on Halloween for a production of La Boheme. It was my third time showing up to audition due to various kerfuffles. I'd befriended the women running the audion table at this point! But finally I was there and they were ready to hear me. I walked in and sang "Donde Lieta."
When I finished the folks behind the table applauded. And I almost fainted from shock. Fortunately they then asked me to take a seat and talk about my schedule!
It was one of those auditioning experiences which is unspeakably rare but amazingly memorable. As a performer, you inure yourself to the responses of audition panels which frequently range from vacant to rude. If you're lucky, they're friendly. So I just expected to walk in and walk out. This... well, I hardly knew how to respond but I rolled with it! It's like a chemical reaction of the right singer at the right moment in front of the right people and BAM! You've got cold fusion. But like cold fusion, attempts to repeat the same experiment will never achieve the same result. Still- you know it happened.
I don't actually know what will come of this audition. It could be my first Mimi! Like the song says "God, I hope I get it!" I'm not sure since I was somewhat flustered by the overwhelming response. Don't know how well I handled the sudden discussion that ensued. But whatever happens, I will always reflect on the joy from an unheard of audioning experience!
When I finished the folks behind the table applauded. And I almost fainted from shock. Fortunately they then asked me to take a seat and talk about my schedule!
It was one of those auditioning experiences which is unspeakably rare but amazingly memorable. As a performer, you inure yourself to the responses of audition panels which frequently range from vacant to rude. If you're lucky, they're friendly. So I just expected to walk in and walk out. This... well, I hardly knew how to respond but I rolled with it! It's like a chemical reaction of the right singer at the right moment in front of the right people and BAM! You've got cold fusion. But like cold fusion, attempts to repeat the same experiment will never achieve the same result. Still- you know it happened.
I don't actually know what will come of this audition. It could be my first Mimi! Like the song says "God, I hope I get it!" I'm not sure since I was somewhat flustered by the overwhelming response. Don't know how well I handled the sudden discussion that ensued. But whatever happens, I will always reflect on the joy from an unheard of audioning experience!
NY Lyric Opera Theatre's Manon & AIR Concert
I'm thrilled to be singing as an Artist in Residence with NY Lyric Opera Theatre! NYLOT Artists-in-Residence participate in a series of master classes with Maestro John Yaffé to prepare the selection of arias to perform in the final concert at Symphony Space. Selected singers will also cover leading roles and participate in ensembles for the main stage production of Manon by Jules Massenet. I'll be singing in their AIR Concert at 6pm on Friday November 13th at Symphony Space before our 8:30 concert of Manon. We open Manon the week before on November 7th at 8:30pm at Carnegie's Weill Hall ! (Tickets are $45 and $50 at the box office but a discounted supply is available thru the artists - email me for further details!)
I'll be singing in their AIR Concert at 6pm on Friday November 13th at Symphony Space before our 8:30 concert of Manon. We open Manon the week before on November 7th at 8:30pm at Carnegie's Weill Hall ! (Tickets are $45 and $50 at the box office but a discounted supply is available thru the artists - email me for further details!)
Come enjoy a night of beautiful music!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The Costume makes the Clown
As I intimated in my previous post, I'm a huge fan of the freedom that comes with putting together a recital. You can do anything! But the danger is - you. can. do. anything. And no one will stop you to say "I know you like it but will an audience like it? Or even get it? Does it make sense musically and dramatically? Does the spectacle diminish the quality of your performance?" No, not until it's too late and you've already rented the boa constrictor and taken your bows.
I came across an example of this recently while researching Soviet music to pitch for a festival. I was searching Google video for samples of Prokofiev's Op. 27 "Five Poems by Anna Akhmatova". [To give little background, Anna Akhmatova was an incredible Russian poet who endured persecution to the point of homelessness and starvation under Stalin. But even before that, her poems were compact and intense. She inspired women all over turn of the century Russia to take up writing. Condemned in 1922 and outright banned in 1945, she was suspected to be dead for many years before resurfacing after Stalin's death. Even during the most severe persecution by the Stalin regime her poems circulated amongst the people. She was eventually publicly restored and recognized as a great figure of Russian culture. My personal favorite poem of hers is Requiem.]
History lesson aside, Prokofiev's settings of Akhmatova aren't exactly comic fare. So when my search pulled up a clip of a soprano dressed a clown with a red feather boa, I immediately closed the window and checked my computer for viruses. Convinced of its safety, or at least non-virulence, I once again pulled up the video. Yeeeah, she's really in a Pierrot costume and red feather boa with a face full of white greasepaint and black lipstick. Behind the piano, I could see a panel draped in blue and green with a small paper moon that looks like it wasn't so much hung as it happened to fall and snag on the set. At the top of the frame, is part of a screen where images are being projected. Some look like abstract paintings and I thought I spotted a portrait of Akhmatova. The clown writhes and luxuriates in her red boa until a dramatic beat change shifts her focus outward. She has reached the end of its feathery fascination. She then slowly drops it from above her head and the camera follows as it tumbles to the ground. Is it a spent lover? A romantic token? The onset of a down allergy? I'm not really sure - you can watch the clip here and let me know what you think. (Make sure to read the description she provides to the right of the video. It is an amusing lesson in the risks of self promotion and the values of basic proofreading. She declares Pierrot as a model for all opera role[s]. Really? Cuz I can think of more than a few exceptions, lady. Aaand this isn't opera, it's Russian art song. But wait, you're not an "old art singer" anyway. You're an "eternal Poet and Clown of Love that is in Love...!" Uh huh. Read it over, my singing friends and remember. Remember it well.)
Now her singing - yeah, we're *just* getting to the singing and I don't have a whole lot to say- it is lovely. The tone is clear and flexible. She obviously has a solid instrument, command of the language and style and of course, dramatic flare. The problem is I didn't even notice the singing until easily my third time thru the clip. And by the third time thru, after trying to figure out what exactly is going on, I don't care. After reading her description which makes it clear she is a performer who is not giving any thought to her audience, I doubly don't care.
But on the other hand - In spite of my critique - the choice dramatize art song is not always doomed to failure. I've personally seen plenty of performances that work well, such as my friend, mezzo-soprano, Amanda Keil and the group Musica Nuova. They include props, plot and, most importantly, cohesion. But a dramatization cannot be halfway and requires a great deal more planning than a traditional recital! (Just look at the NYT Tommasini article recently that defends updating operas but demands commitment and follow-thru.) Hear this plea - do not be arbitrary. For me, that was the most unforgivable aspect of this soprano's clip. The singing was great. The costume was high quality even! But the conceit makes no sense. Classically, it doesn't jibe with the character or nature of Pierrot. (Think Ducky in "Pretty in Pink." Lovable guy who never gets the girl.) Textually, it's unsupported. The songs in that set are certainly not characterized by a trusting, naive love but instead deal with themes of shallow affections, tragically lost love and bereavement. The singer's explanation beside the video makes it even more clear that the choice related more to exercising her personal philosophy via playing dress-up.
The moral of the story, folks, is if you want to up the ante dramatically, don't skimp on the thinking. Avoid the arbitrary or risk leaving your audience behind. If you identify conflicts, relationships and themes that can't be brought out in a traditional recital format then a dramatized staging can bring tried and true material new meaning in an audience's eyes. But have a sounding board (coach, teacher or friend) who can confirm that in pursuing your groundbreaking interpretation you're still connecting and communicating with the audience. Otherwise, just let your beautiful singing and interpretation stand on its own. At least for now.
I came across an example of this recently while researching Soviet music to pitch for a festival. I was searching Google video for samples of Prokofiev's Op. 27 "Five Poems by Anna Akhmatova". [To give little background, Anna Akhmatova was an incredible Russian poet who endured persecution to the point of homelessness and starvation under Stalin. But even before that, her poems were compact and intense. She inspired women all over turn of the century Russia to take up writing. Condemned in 1922 and outright banned in 1945, she was suspected to be dead for many years before resurfacing after Stalin's death. Even during the most severe persecution by the Stalin regime her poems circulated amongst the people. She was eventually publicly restored and recognized as a great figure of Russian culture. My personal favorite poem of hers is Requiem.]
History lesson aside, Prokofiev's settings of Akhmatova aren't exactly comic fare. So when my search pulled up a clip of a soprano dressed a clown with a red feather boa, I immediately closed the window and checked my computer for viruses. Convinced of its safety, or at least non-virulence, I once again pulled up the video. Yeeeah, she's really in a Pierrot costume and red feather boa with a face full of white greasepaint and black lipstick. Behind the piano, I could see a panel draped in blue and green with a small paper moon that looks like it wasn't so much hung as it happened to fall and snag on the set. At the top of the frame, is part of a screen where images are being projected. Some look like abstract paintings and I thought I spotted a portrait of Akhmatova. The clown writhes and luxuriates in her red boa until a dramatic beat change shifts her focus outward. She has reached the end of its feathery fascination. She then slowly drops it from above her head and the camera follows as it tumbles to the ground. Is it a spent lover? A romantic token? The onset of a down allergy? I'm not really sure - you can watch the clip here and let me know what you think. (Make sure to read the description she provides to the right of the video. It is an amusing lesson in the risks of self promotion and the values of basic proofreading. She declares Pierrot as a model for all opera role[s]. Really? Cuz I can think of more than a few exceptions, lady. Aaand this isn't opera, it's Russian art song. But wait, you're not an "old art singer" anyway. You're an "eternal Poet and Clown of Love that is in Love...!" Uh huh. Read it over, my singing friends and remember. Remember it well.)
Now her singing - yeah, we're *just* getting to the singing and I don't have a whole lot to say- it is lovely. The tone is clear and flexible. She obviously has a solid instrument, command of the language and style and of course, dramatic flare. The problem is I didn't even notice the singing until easily my third time thru the clip. And by the third time thru, after trying to figure out what exactly is going on, I don't care. After reading her description which makes it clear she is a performer who is not giving any thought to her audience, I doubly don't care.
But on the other hand - In spite of my critique - the choice dramatize art song is not always doomed to failure. I've personally seen plenty of performances that work well, such as my friend, mezzo-soprano, Amanda Keil and the group Musica Nuova. They include props, plot and, most importantly, cohesion. But a dramatization cannot be halfway and requires a great deal more planning than a traditional recital! (Just look at the NYT Tommasini article recently that defends updating operas but demands commitment and follow-thru.) Hear this plea - do not be arbitrary. For me, that was the most unforgivable aspect of this soprano's clip. The singing was great. The costume was high quality even! But the conceit makes no sense. Classically, it doesn't jibe with the character or nature of Pierrot. (Think Ducky in "Pretty in Pink." Lovable guy who never gets the girl.) Textually, it's unsupported. The songs in that set are certainly not characterized by a trusting, naive love but instead deal with themes of shallow affections, tragically lost love and bereavement. The singer's explanation beside the video makes it even more clear that the choice related more to exercising her personal philosophy via playing dress-up.
The moral of the story, folks, is if you want to up the ante dramatically, don't skimp on the thinking. Avoid the arbitrary or risk leaving your audience behind. If you identify conflicts, relationships and themes that can't be brought out in a traditional recital format then a dramatized staging can bring tried and true material new meaning in an audience's eyes. But have a sounding board (coach, teacher or friend) who can confirm that in pursuing your groundbreaking interpretation you're still connecting and communicating with the audience. Otherwise, just let your beautiful singing and interpretation stand on its own. At least for now.
The Recital: The Opportunity for Autonomy
When it comes to being a performer, you frequently have very little say in what you do. You audition and are either cast or you are dismissed politely (if you're lucky). If you are fortunate enough to be cast it is your task to learn your music, research your role and come in with a characterization in mind. But for all that work, the performance itself is not up to the performer. It is shaped by the producers, directors and designers. You thought that prayer sequence would be sung kneeling in a chapel set? Well this production is set in a circus and you will instead be singing the prayer while hanging upside down from a trapeze.
Long before it was Tim Gunn's catch phrase, performers have known they have to suck it up and "Make it work!"
But there is a venue where a singer can take control of every aspect of the performance and exhibit their personal aesthetic and interpretation without interference- the Song Recital. No music student is stranger to this format, from assembling their own joint or degree recitals to attending countless recitals by colleagues and friends. In university, the recital is usually structured with requirements of language and period in order to display range, proficiency and just make the grade. (Do I hafta do an early music piece? Fine. *grumble Mozart Concert Aria grumble*) But once you're outside the education system and that infrastructure falls away the possibilities available can also become overwhelming. (What do I want to sing? How do I make it unique and legitimate?) The definitive books on this topic is The Art of the Song Recital by Shirlee Emmons and Stanley Sonntag which chronicles the process from conception to performance. I'm not about to give a book review of it here but it is a wonderful resource. And one I am turning to as I begin work on my own recital.
The concept for my project came about this past Bloomsday (June 16) at Symphony Space. I've been singing songs referenced in Jame Joyce's Ulysses for six years now and as I was chatting back stage with Kathy Minton, their Director of Literary Programs, about the music she said "I bet you've got enough material now to do an entire concert." I laughed and agreed that I probably could at this point! I probably said something after that but I don't remember what as the idea suddenly took off running inside my head, careening up and down the sides of my skull like a halfpipe. "I could, couldn't I? I know where the music is and love singing it. Plus I have incredible resources available to me in the research I've done and people I've worked with at Bloomsday."
So I had the idea. But now comes the most difficult part for me, programming. I knew where to find the music which has been harvested, referenced and analyzed by scholars over the decades from snippets, allusions and excerpts throughout Ulysses. My go-to resource has been Ruth H. Bauerle's James Joyce Songbook. Currently I've collected over 50 songs I could sing in this recital ranging from comic music hall tunes to old Irish ballads; Opera arias and duets; Political songs and wartime anthems; Even offensive and even a selection of very risque pieces that show just how far diversity has come in our society. I've got groupings for sets by theme, character (particularly Molly Bloom) and even by episode. (Instead of chapters, Ulysses is divided into episodes like Ithaca, Circe and Penelope.) Inevitably what I have with enough material to easily fill 3 or 4 recitals, is too much. Especially since I want to include some readings as well. I mean, it's Joyce! The very reason I know about this material is because the work is meant to be read aloud. As Joyce deemed it vital to weave the songs into his text, so I must observe this interdependence. To my credit, I've already whittled this down from the original 200+ songs I reviewed and researched for this program. I will continue to pare away the selections, discarding some and saving others for another day.
I'm also plagued with concerns that go well beyond timing issues and figuring out which songs sound good together:
As I develop this recital and move towards a performance, I'll continue to flesh out some of these questions and any other pitfalls I know I'm bound to encounter.
Long before it was Tim Gunn's catch phrase, performers have known they have to suck it up and "Make it work!"
But there is a venue where a singer can take control of every aspect of the performance and exhibit their personal aesthetic and interpretation without interference- the Song Recital. No music student is stranger to this format, from assembling their own joint or degree recitals to attending countless recitals by colleagues and friends. In university, the recital is usually structured with requirements of language and period in order to display range, proficiency and just make the grade. (Do I hafta do an early music piece? Fine. *grumble Mozart Concert Aria grumble*) But once you're outside the education system and that infrastructure falls away the possibilities available can also become overwhelming. (What do I want to sing? How do I make it unique and legitimate?) The definitive books on this topic is The Art of the Song Recital by Shirlee Emmons and Stanley Sonntag which chronicles the process from conception to performance. I'm not about to give a book review of it here but it is a wonderful resource. And one I am turning to as I begin work on my own recital.
The concept for my project came about this past Bloomsday (June 16) at Symphony Space. I've been singing songs referenced in Jame Joyce's Ulysses for six years now and as I was chatting back stage with Kathy Minton, their Director of Literary Programs, about the music she said "I bet you've got enough material now to do an entire concert." I laughed and agreed that I probably could at this point! I probably said something after that but I don't remember what as the idea suddenly took off running inside my head, careening up and down the sides of my skull like a halfpipe. "I could, couldn't I? I know where the music is and love singing it. Plus I have incredible resources available to me in the research I've done and people I've worked with at Bloomsday."
So I had the idea. But now comes the most difficult part for me, programming. I knew where to find the music which has been harvested, referenced and analyzed by scholars over the decades from snippets, allusions and excerpts throughout Ulysses. My go-to resource has been Ruth H. Bauerle's James Joyce Songbook. Currently I've collected over 50 songs I could sing in this recital ranging from comic music hall tunes to old Irish ballads; Opera arias and duets; Political songs and wartime anthems; Even offensive and even a selection of very risque pieces that show just how far diversity has come in our society. I've got groupings for sets by theme, character (particularly Molly Bloom) and even by episode. (Instead of chapters, Ulysses is divided into episodes like Ithaca, Circe and Penelope.) Inevitably what I have with enough material to easily fill 3 or 4 recitals, is too much. Especially since I want to include some readings as well. I mean, it's Joyce! The very reason I know about this material is because the work is meant to be read aloud. As Joyce deemed it vital to weave the songs into his text, so I must observe this interdependence. To my credit, I've already whittled this down from the original 200+ songs I reviewed and researched for this program. I will continue to pare away the selections, discarding some and saving others for another day.
I'm also plagued with concerns that go well beyond timing issues and figuring out which songs sound good together:
- Programming controversial material - Racism wasn't so much a problem then as an expectation.
- Stylistic authenticity versus vocal integrity - As a classical singer and not a traditional Irish singer, how do I pay attention to authentic style and performance technique but still maintain my aesthetic and vocal integrity? (For example: I recently saw Mick Moloney perform a concert of Irish and Jewish music hall songs and loved his renditions. He even sang a couple of the songs I'm working. But he posesses a keen and bend in his vocal quality I would not presume to mimic. I'm just not that... Irish!)
- How do I pursue collaborations and with whom?
- How great are the demands of scholarship for an performer, especially when working in Joyce where scholarship can constitute a lifetime of work?
- Most importantly, I must determine who my audience is and how I will make this program interesting for them!
As I develop this recital and move towards a performance, I'll continue to flesh out some of these questions and any other pitfalls I know I'm bound to encounter.
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