Although I do not define myself as Christian (my mother is an atheistic Jew and my father was an atheistic Scotsman) I sing in a Lutheran church. So I am getting quite a theological education, which I find fascinating, whatever I decide to do with this in terms of how I live my own life.
Today was Pentecost Sunday, which meant that people wore red, the pastors and children waved magnificent red banners, and the choir sang a lovely piece of Mozart. (I sang with the altos and had a couple of short solos.)
The theme today was The Holy Spirit (referred to as "she"!) and the pastor's sermon was on "Chaos", and how when the Holy Spirit enters one's life, chaos can ensue (I hope I got that right).
When my life changed forever on February 15, 2004, it was thrown into chaos. There were a lot of contradictions that day: I was in a house of worship, albeit a Unitarian one, in the thrall of a mentor whose attraction for me was a lot more than spiritual, singing the sexiest aria ever written, to commemorate Valentine's Day no less. Was there a Holy Spirit hole in the church ceiling that day? I now think maybe so. None of this was what I had expected to be experiencing in a church.
I had already developed a faith in God as I understood (him? her?) after finding my voice in the back of that Unitarian church, after 23 years of not singing. (Although I dreamed about singing all the time, which must say something.) But this was something more. I knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
To pursue art for no money when there are so many other things that need to be done, so many bills to be paid, so many other "more important" priorities, is, I suppose, a form of living with the Holy Spirit. For me to have scheduled a coaching for two auditions that probably won't lead to anything, when my severance check is half gone, my unemployment insurance has most likely run out, and I have no work on the horizon, is certainly a leap of faith although I'm not sure of what kind. Pretty soon things will be in a state of chaos if I don't have a full time income.
Lately there's been a very earthly voice in my ear saying "Look. If you get offered a full time job you should take it, even if it means losing valuable practice time [not to mention losing sleep] and maybe not being able to get to all the singing activities you want to. Just forget about singing all that strenuous opera. You can be a nice choir alto, even a nice choir alto soloist without overtaxing yourself, worrying about how much sleep you get, how much you talk, the nutritional value of every morsel you put in your mouth. If you have a full time job you can take a vacation. You can read novels on the train. Things can be the way they were more or less, on February 13, 2004."
But I don't think the Holy Spirit will let me.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
My Big Day - May 17, 2008
It's taken two years and three days, but I finally got a photo ( a print, that I had to scan with my new printer)of My Big Day, aka, the concert production of Samson et Dalila that I put on at the Lutheran church where I sing.
For people who perform operatic roles all the time, this may not seem like much, but to me, let's just say it was a big
It was as big a deal as a prom, a wedding, or a senior recital.
Ever since my life was changed forever on February 15, 2004 when I sang "Mon Coeur" in a Valentine's Day service at the Unitarian Church, with my oft-discussed mentor as my strongman , I had a little plan in the back of my mind to sing the role of Dalila somewhere, somehow.
This just sort of fell into my lap. The Lutheran church was having a concert series as part of a capital campaign so I put Samson et Dalila in concert on the schedule. We didn't have a chorus or a ballet, or an orchestra, just three singers (the bass, who did yeoman duty in three roles, isn't shown here) and a fabulous pianist.
I don't know if the role is a totally perfect fit for my voice - the tessitura is a bit low and at the end of 45 minutes of singing I had to open my mouth and sing a high B flat (had me in mortal terror for six months but thanks to chugging a quart of Muscle Milk I actually did it) but the role sure is a totally perfect fit for my personality and I had a ball.
For a variety of reasons, I haven't had the energy to try this again with another opera, but my wheels are spinning now, and if I don't get cast in someone else's production, I am going to come up with something.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Choral Singing
Since my Lana Turner moment of discovery at the age of 53 took place in a church, I have had a special spot in my heart for singing in a choir. This seems odd to most people since my parents were atheists. As a child I yearned for a religion and as an adult I found Unitarian Universalism which has as its tenet that God is one thing, and that Jesus was a great teacher and prophet, but not divine. They also believe that the jury is still out regarding whether or not there's an afterlife.
It's also odd that I love singing in a choir since I have a big voice that does not "blend" easily. Singers with operatic voices have to be very careful not to do things to "blend" that will scrunch and squeeze our voices into uncomfortable places. The deadliest of all is trying to sing "straight tone" like a boy soprano. Luckily, I sing in a Lutheran choir (Unitarian Universalist congregations rarely have a good classical music program) which goes for a more mature womanly sound. That being said, I still have to be careful not to blast out the windows.
As a mezzo-soprano, I am never sure which part I should be singing. I don't have light floaty high notes like a soprano but I don't want to be stuck below the staff a lot with the altos. Luckily, my choir sings a lot of pieces in eight parts which means I get to sing second soprano which is really what a mezzo-soprano is. I'm happiest not having to go above or below the staff too often.
What happened this evening was we were given a piece of music by Handel in four parts with a very high soprano part. Normally, I would have bitten the bullet and given it a shot (I have done well with the soprano parts in some of the Bach cantatas we've done, for example) but to sing it properly (without blasting out the windows or choking) I would have to sing it into my voice, and since the Sunday we would be singing this is two days after my auditions, I wouldn't have time to do that. And really, what would I rather do? Devote my energy to singing the Wagner and the Handel arias as well as I can or sing a soprano choral part? So I decided to take the path of least resistance and sing the alto choral part, which has a range of about six notes and will not drain my energy away from what I need to stay focused on. Part of me sees that as a failure, but that's silly.
It's also odd that I love singing in a choir since I have a big voice that does not "blend" easily. Singers with operatic voices have to be very careful not to do things to "blend" that will scrunch and squeeze our voices into uncomfortable places. The deadliest of all is trying to sing "straight tone" like a boy soprano. Luckily, I sing in a Lutheran choir (Unitarian Universalist congregations rarely have a good classical music program) which goes for a more mature womanly sound. That being said, I still have to be careful not to blast out the windows.
As a mezzo-soprano, I am never sure which part I should be singing. I don't have light floaty high notes like a soprano but I don't want to be stuck below the staff a lot with the altos. Luckily, my choir sings a lot of pieces in eight parts which means I get to sing second soprano which is really what a mezzo-soprano is. I'm happiest not having to go above or below the staff too often.
What happened this evening was we were given a piece of music by Handel in four parts with a very high soprano part. Normally, I would have bitten the bullet and given it a shot (I have done well with the soprano parts in some of the Bach cantatas we've done, for example) but to sing it properly (without blasting out the windows or choking) I would have to sing it into my voice, and since the Sunday we would be singing this is two days after my auditions, I wouldn't have time to do that. And really, what would I rather do? Devote my energy to singing the Wagner and the Handel arias as well as I can or sing a soprano choral part? So I decided to take the path of least resistance and sing the alto choral part, which has a range of about six notes and will not drain my energy away from what I need to stay focused on. Part of me sees that as a failure, but that's silly.
What to Do When Family is not Supportive?
Truth is, I don't know.
Most people's lives revolve around work and family with some occasional mindless down time. So if you sing, or work in another art form, but it's not your livelihood, then what? Shouldn't that be the first thing to go out the window if there's too much stress in your life?
For me and my singing, it's well past the 11th hour. A colleague of mine from choir said that she lost her voice when she left her fifties. Her upper register anyhow. Well, I'll be out of my fifties in a little over two months. So if not now, when?
I happen to have been lucky enough to land two auditions: the one for the Handel opera and now, one for a concert version of a Wagner opera.
Now for those of you "real" singers out there (you know who you are) this is not "work". If I beat the odds and get one of these roles I'll probably end up spending money not making any. And so I still have to look for paying work of some kind. (If I can luck into something freelance, at least I can make my own schedule).
And these auditions are a few days before my S.O. goes into the hospital. In fact one will be at night after I've spent the afternoon with her at a doctor for a pre-op screening. So why am I bothering, people will ask? Because if not now, when? There won't be a "later". It is later.
All the work I put into this to date has been "stolen time". Stolen from job hunting, preparing for a job interview I might have next week, helping my S.O. with the herculean task of organizing paperwork.
Because I deal with two elderly family members, I see a social worker regularly to discuss how they're doing and how I'm doing.
When I met with her earlier this week she said I must not cancel these auditions. I feel (partly) that lack of support from my S.O. (whom I've been involved with for 35 years) was responsible for my giving up singing in 1980. She always thought it was a waste of time, didn't much like opera, thought I needed to focus on things that were lucrative and spend my free time traveling with her and being a part of the Lesbian community which in those days was pretty exclusive and had no room for women who still clung onto "patriarchal" art forms. I didn't know any other Lesbians who sang opera so I had no role models. If there had been someone like Patricia Racette would I have had the inner strength to soldier on? I don't know.
In any event, that was then, this is now, and my caseworker says I can't have a deja vu all over again.
You won't believe this, but I'm actually scared to tell my S.O. about this second audition (the Wagner one, which I just found out about). I'm waiting for the right time. In the meantime, I'll do a little exercise my caseworker told me to do (in fact she asked me did I journal!!!)
ME: I have another audition on Thursday night
So What Do I Think SO Will Say? I thought maybe my going into the hospital would be more important.
Truth Is You're going into the hospital a few days later.
SO Will Probably Say So what I'll get is leftovers. Maybe then I don't want you to come with me to the hospital.
My caseworker told me to "pull a cloak over myself" and just continue on. Not let grief and anger choke up my voice, go to my audition, let this blow over, show up at the hospital, remember I'm dealing with someone who's not playing with a full deck.
Now I'm going to see her off for a little holiday before her surgery. A friend will be taking care of her. So I will study my music.
(Sigh).
Most people's lives revolve around work and family with some occasional mindless down time. So if you sing, or work in another art form, but it's not your livelihood, then what? Shouldn't that be the first thing to go out the window if there's too much stress in your life?
For me and my singing, it's well past the 11th hour. A colleague of mine from choir said that she lost her voice when she left her fifties. Her upper register anyhow. Well, I'll be out of my fifties in a little over two months. So if not now, when?
I happen to have been lucky enough to land two auditions: the one for the Handel opera and now, one for a concert version of a Wagner opera.
Now for those of you "real" singers out there (you know who you are) this is not "work". If I beat the odds and get one of these roles I'll probably end up spending money not making any. And so I still have to look for paying work of some kind. (If I can luck into something freelance, at least I can make my own schedule).
And these auditions are a few days before my S.O. goes into the hospital. In fact one will be at night after I've spent the afternoon with her at a doctor for a pre-op screening. So why am I bothering, people will ask? Because if not now, when? There won't be a "later". It is later.
All the work I put into this to date has been "stolen time". Stolen from job hunting, preparing for a job interview I might have next week, helping my S.O. with the herculean task of organizing paperwork.
Because I deal with two elderly family members, I see a social worker regularly to discuss how they're doing and how I'm doing.
When I met with her earlier this week she said I must not cancel these auditions. I feel (partly) that lack of support from my S.O. (whom I've been involved with for 35 years) was responsible for my giving up singing in 1980. She always thought it was a waste of time, didn't much like opera, thought I needed to focus on things that were lucrative and spend my free time traveling with her and being a part of the Lesbian community which in those days was pretty exclusive and had no room for women who still clung onto "patriarchal" art forms. I didn't know any other Lesbians who sang opera so I had no role models. If there had been someone like Patricia Racette would I have had the inner strength to soldier on? I don't know.
In any event, that was then, this is now, and my caseworker says I can't have a deja vu all over again.
You won't believe this, but I'm actually scared to tell my S.O. about this second audition (the Wagner one, which I just found out about). I'm waiting for the right time. In the meantime, I'll do a little exercise my caseworker told me to do (in fact she asked me did I journal!!!)
ME: I have another audition on Thursday night
So What Do I Think SO Will Say? I thought maybe my going into the hospital would be more important.
Truth Is You're going into the hospital a few days later.
SO Will Probably Say So what I'll get is leftovers. Maybe then I don't want you to come with me to the hospital.
My caseworker told me to "pull a cloak over myself" and just continue on. Not let grief and anger choke up my voice, go to my audition, let this blow over, show up at the hospital, remember I'm dealing with someone who's not playing with a full deck.
Now I'm going to see her off for a little holiday before her surgery. A friend will be taking care of her. So I will study my music.
(Sigh).
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Audition Top Five
These days, any singer going to auditions has a "top five" arias, usually in several different languages. Even though I'm not a "real" singer, I keep mine polished and they have changed over time. (Back in the days when I auditioned for the "Opera Underground" I don't ever remember having to sing more than one or two at the most.)
For the audition I'm preparing for now, since it's for a Handel opera, I have learned one of the arias that this particular characters sings. It's a new one for me, but I am at home with Handel and in fact one of the things I sing very well is "Rejoice Greatly" from the Messiah, which surprises people since I'm not a high soprano. I do have exceptionally good breath control, however, which I attribute to having had my very first singing lessons while I was still a smoker. So if I had to be able to sing certain phrases with my constricted lungs, once they were able to expand normally, the sky reall was the limit. Also, I've heard through the grapevine that many light sopranos think "Rejoice" is too low and find the runs uncomfortable. Actually, the highest note actually written in the piece is an A flat, which is no big deal for me as a mezzo.
Other than this Handel aria, what I will be bringing will be:
"Acerba Volutta" from Adriana Lecouvreur. This is the aria I consider to be my best at this point. It has a comfortable range (although if I'm not in top form I always worry about having the stamina to nail that ending, which has a big climactic high A in it), and allows me to display a variety of vocal colors. The Principessa is one of those "baby dramatic" roles that suits my voice really well and that I am going to figure out a way to perform somewhere somehow.
"Stella del Marinar" from La Gioconda. I have always found this very easy to sing, probably because I sang the role of Laura when I was 30 and had a lot of chutzpah. So it's just always sort of been there for me.
"Dido's Lament". Auditions always want you to bring something in English. It was a toss up between this and "Must the Winter Come So Soon" (perfect for someone my age and believe me, people cry when I sing this it so comes from my gut) from Vanessa. But since Purcell and Handel are in the same ballpark I opted for Dido. The hard thing with this aria is trying to sing a pianissimo high G at the end but actually the note has no dynamic markings so if I'm worried it might crack I can just sing it full voice.
Last but not least, my signature aria, Dalila's Mon Coeur. If you excerpt this, there's always the agonizing issue of "To B (flat) or not to B". (Many mezzos coopt Samson's High B flat and sing it at the end of the aria if it's taken out of the opera.) Since although I vocalize up to a B natural or a High C, I would really rather have a root canal than have to sing above an A natural in public (although I am making myself do so more and more) I have decided (with my teacher's full approval), not to. He assures me since the note is not written, it is not necessary. If I want to tack an ending on the aria I can sing an F. That's what's written in the mezzo aria book. The entire aria is a seduction (which is why I love it) so if you can't make the high note a soft purr, don't do it. I actually have sung a creditable B flat at the end of Sappho's "O My Lyre Immortelle" which I added to my repertoire this winter to sing at an LGBT-themed fundraiser, but she's about to jump into the ocean, so if the note is a well-anchored full-throated scream, that's fine.
So wish me luck everyone!
Now I'm off at this unGodly hour to sing some Durufle at a 9 am church service. Getting up early isn't my favorite thing, but if I want to conduct myself like someone with a professional church job, this is what one does. As I said in my earlier post, "You Don't Have to Feel Like".
For the audition I'm preparing for now, since it's for a Handel opera, I have learned one of the arias that this particular characters sings. It's a new one for me, but I am at home with Handel and in fact one of the things I sing very well is "Rejoice Greatly" from the Messiah, which surprises people since I'm not a high soprano. I do have exceptionally good breath control, however, which I attribute to having had my very first singing lessons while I was still a smoker. So if I had to be able to sing certain phrases with my constricted lungs, once they were able to expand normally, the sky reall was the limit. Also, I've heard through the grapevine that many light sopranos think "Rejoice" is too low and find the runs uncomfortable. Actually, the highest note actually written in the piece is an A flat, which is no big deal for me as a mezzo.
Other than this Handel aria, what I will be bringing will be:
"Acerba Volutta" from Adriana Lecouvreur. This is the aria I consider to be my best at this point. It has a comfortable range (although if I'm not in top form I always worry about having the stamina to nail that ending, which has a big climactic high A in it), and allows me to display a variety of vocal colors. The Principessa is one of those "baby dramatic" roles that suits my voice really well and that I am going to figure out a way to perform somewhere somehow.
"Stella del Marinar" from La Gioconda. I have always found this very easy to sing, probably because I sang the role of Laura when I was 30 and had a lot of chutzpah. So it's just always sort of been there for me.
"Dido's Lament". Auditions always want you to bring something in English. It was a toss up between this and "Must the Winter Come So Soon" (perfect for someone my age and believe me, people cry when I sing this it so comes from my gut) from Vanessa. But since Purcell and Handel are in the same ballpark I opted for Dido. The hard thing with this aria is trying to sing a pianissimo high G at the end but actually the note has no dynamic markings so if I'm worried it might crack I can just sing it full voice.
Last but not least, my signature aria, Dalila's Mon Coeur. If you excerpt this, there's always the agonizing issue of "To B (flat) or not to B". (Many mezzos coopt Samson's High B flat and sing it at the end of the aria if it's taken out of the opera.) Since although I vocalize up to a B natural or a High C, I would really rather have a root canal than have to sing above an A natural in public (although I am making myself do so more and more) I have decided (with my teacher's full approval), not to. He assures me since the note is not written, it is not necessary. If I want to tack an ending on the aria I can sing an F. That's what's written in the mezzo aria book. The entire aria is a seduction (which is why I love it) so if you can't make the high note a soft purr, don't do it. I actually have sung a creditable B flat at the end of Sappho's "O My Lyre Immortelle" which I added to my repertoire this winter to sing at an LGBT-themed fundraiser, but she's about to jump into the ocean, so if the note is a well-anchored full-throated scream, that's fine.
So wish me luck everyone!
Now I'm off at this unGodly hour to sing some Durufle at a 9 am church service. Getting up early isn't my favorite thing, but if I want to conduct myself like someone with a professional church job, this is what one does. As I said in my earlier post, "You Don't Have to Feel Like".
Friday, May 14, 2010
Backgound, Ethnicity, and Carmen
Here, as promised, is my post about Carmen.
First of all, I should say that my first experience singing opera, as distinct from legit musical theater or Gilbert and Sullivan, which I had been singing since I was six, was when I was 14 and my large multiracial Brooklyn high school (white) glee club teacher decided that the way to get kids interested in opera was to have a girl sing the Habanera and a boy sing the Toreador Song at the annual glee club concert.
So there were auditions. And I auditioned. Four other girls auditioned. I was the only Caucasian. The girl that got the gig was African-American and sang the Habanera like a rock song. To put this in context, I no doubt sang it like Julie Andrews singing "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" from My Fair Lady which would have been just as inappropriate. The other girl probably did sing better than I did and if the glee club teacher had said something low-key like "Well, this time _______________ did sing better than you did, but maybe you can sing something next year", that probably would have been the end of it. Instead, the teacher said "Well, dear, I wouldn't worry too much about this. Singing is part of _________'s heritage, you know. You are on the Math Team because your father is a professor of engineering." Lucky I didn't grow up to be a Tea Bagger. On the other hand, her saying that was probably just as racist as my snit, more so since she was an adult and should have known better.
In any event, I have spent years wondering whether or not there's a connection between ethnicity and singing, ethnicity and rhythm, ethnicity and uptightness. I thought about this incident again yesterday because I both saw the telecast of this year's production of Carmen (which I had seen live with a different cast) and also read an article in Opera News about opera singers who grew up in the African-American church.
My parents defined themselves as "New York Intellectuals" and I was exposed to everything from Cole Porter to Rogers and Hart to Gilbert and Sullivan to, yes, opera, which I didn't much care for until I got into High School. But they were also militant atheists so I grew up sans choir immersion.
Was I uptight? I never particularly thought so (I am certainly not a prude) on the other hand I come from ultra-WASPy Brooklyn Heights. And 40 years later the mentor who changed my life forever while intermittently tormenting me said I had less sense of rhythm than anyone he had ever met.
Be that as it may, I sing the Habanera every chance I get (see profile picture), strut my stuff, and hand out flowers, sometimes to people in nursing homes, sometimes to children having a party to send them off to Bible Camp.
As for last night's Carmen I had seen it live with my idol
Olga Borodina who despite some excess pounds is the sexxiest creature on earth, and the young
Brandon Jovanovich who was a close second. The production was riveting and exuded sex from start to finish. Every detail was perfectly conceived.
I was prepared not to care much for Elina Garanca because although she is a beautiful woman with a beautiful voice, she just isn't Carmen to me. I adored her as Rosina and Cenerentola, but worried that she would be too "soubretty" for Carmen. She surprised me, and I admired her artistry, but never quite got carried away by her the way I did by Borodina, perhaps because in the telecast I got too many views of her expensively capped teeth (definitely un-gypsylike) and pert little nose.
Roberto Alagna isn't my favorite tenor from a purely vocal standpoint, but he also did a superb acting job, capturing the character's randy loser essence.
All in all, it was a delicious experience, and just reinforces my determination to sing this role in its entirety before I die, even if it's just in a vanity production where we sing from books.
First of all, I should say that my first experience singing opera, as distinct from legit musical theater or Gilbert and Sullivan, which I had been singing since I was six, was when I was 14 and my large multiracial Brooklyn high school (white) glee club teacher decided that the way to get kids interested in opera was to have a girl sing the Habanera and a boy sing the Toreador Song at the annual glee club concert.
So there were auditions. And I auditioned. Four other girls auditioned. I was the only Caucasian. The girl that got the gig was African-American and sang the Habanera like a rock song. To put this in context, I no doubt sang it like Julie Andrews singing "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" from My Fair Lady which would have been just as inappropriate. The other girl probably did sing better than I did and if the glee club teacher had said something low-key like "Well, this time _______________ did sing better than you did, but maybe you can sing something next year", that probably would have been the end of it. Instead, the teacher said "Well, dear, I wouldn't worry too much about this. Singing is part of _________'s heritage, you know. You are on the Math Team because your father is a professor of engineering." Lucky I didn't grow up to be a Tea Bagger. On the other hand, her saying that was probably just as racist as my snit, more so since she was an adult and should have known better.
In any event, I have spent years wondering whether or not there's a connection between ethnicity and singing, ethnicity and rhythm, ethnicity and uptightness. I thought about this incident again yesterday because I both saw the telecast of this year's production of Carmen (which I had seen live with a different cast) and also read an article in Opera News about opera singers who grew up in the African-American church.
My parents defined themselves as "New York Intellectuals" and I was exposed to everything from Cole Porter to Rogers and Hart to Gilbert and Sullivan to, yes, opera, which I didn't much care for until I got into High School. But they were also militant atheists so I grew up sans choir immersion.
Was I uptight? I never particularly thought so (I am certainly not a prude) on the other hand I come from ultra-WASPy Brooklyn Heights. And 40 years later the mentor who changed my life forever while intermittently tormenting me said I had less sense of rhythm than anyone he had ever met.
Be that as it may, I sing the Habanera every chance I get (see profile picture), strut my stuff, and hand out flowers, sometimes to people in nursing homes, sometimes to children having a party to send them off to Bible Camp.
As for last night's Carmen I had seen it live with my idol
Olga Borodina who despite some excess pounds is the sexxiest creature on earth, and the young
Brandon Jovanovich who was a close second. The production was riveting and exuded sex from start to finish. Every detail was perfectly conceived.
I was prepared not to care much for Elina Garanca because although she is a beautiful woman with a beautiful voice, she just isn't Carmen to me. I adored her as Rosina and Cenerentola, but worried that she would be too "soubretty" for Carmen. She surprised me, and I admired her artistry, but never quite got carried away by her the way I did by Borodina, perhaps because in the telecast I got too many views of her expensively capped teeth (definitely un-gypsylike) and pert little nose.
Roberto Alagna isn't my favorite tenor from a purely vocal standpoint, but he also did a superb acting job, capturing the character's randy loser essence.
All in all, it was a delicious experience, and just reinforces my determination to sing this role in its entirety before I die, even if it's just in a vanity production where we sing from books.
You Don't Have to "Feel Like"
People who know me in the real world know that I have two elderly family members in a medical crisis at the same time that I'm looking for paying work (either freelance, or a full time job with a somewhat flexible schedule). This does not leave a great deal of time or energy for singing. When I took an "early retirement buyout" from my last (extremely boring and stressful) full time job ("early retirement" means I get health insurance from them not that I get a pension I can live on) I had envisioned spending a lot of time singing, learning music, and "making my own opportunities". It turns out I have had a lot less time for this than I had hoped due to family issues.
However this does not mean that I don't practice every day!!!
Yesterday I had spent the day at my mother's, had several lengthy phone calls with my S.O. about her upcoming surgery, engaged in numerous email exchanges about work, did a grocery shopping and a laundry, and then before I knew it it was 8:30 pm. I had planned to watch and listen to Carmen on P.B.S. (I will post about that later today or tomorrow) so at first I thought, "Oh, heck! I'll skip practicing and just go have my lesson on Friday [which is now today]"
But then I thought, well, "every little bit helps" and I remembered my Handel audition at the end of the month and how the aria is not memorized, the da capo ornaments are not completely sung into my voice and that when I get up there in two weeks I am determined to sing theexpletive deleted out of this piece since I will be competing with women 30 years younger with YAPs and conservatory degrees on their resumes.
So I sang a few arpeggios and sang through the aria from start to finish. It's coming along, I'm able to do all the long runs without breathing (the woman on my recording isn't, FWIW!), it's all starting to fall into place, and wow! I felt really happy to have gotten something accomplished!
And I was done by 9:00. And yes, that half hour made a big difference in bringing me closer to my goal.
However this does not mean that I don't practice every day!!!
Yesterday I had spent the day at my mother's, had several lengthy phone calls with my S.O. about her upcoming surgery, engaged in numerous email exchanges about work, did a grocery shopping and a laundry, and then before I knew it it was 8:30 pm. I had planned to watch and listen to Carmen on P.B.S. (I will post about that later today or tomorrow) so at first I thought, "Oh, heck! I'll skip practicing and just go have my lesson on Friday [which is now today]"
But then I thought, well, "every little bit helps" and I remembered my Handel audition at the end of the month and how the aria is not memorized, the da capo ornaments are not completely sung into my voice and that when I get up there in two weeks I am determined to sing the
So I sang a few arpeggios and sang through the aria from start to finish. It's coming along, I'm able to do all the long runs without breathing (the woman on my recording isn't, FWIW!), it's all starting to fall into place, and wow! I felt really happy to have gotten something accomplished!
And I was done by 9:00. And yes, that half hour made a big difference in bringing me closer to my goal.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The Shop Around the Corner
At the end of the month I have an audition for a role in a Handel opera (a long shot, of course, since the character is a romantic love interest and the production was advertised as avante garde) so when I wasn't able to find a CD of it at The Lincoln Center Library, I decided to buy one at The Juilliard Store.
Which brings me to a subject I have pondered for quite some time. What's a gal with a modest talent to do when her "local" this, that, and the other are Lincoln Center, the Met, and Juilliard??
Many's the time I wished I lived in "East Eggshell, Iowa", a generic catchword used by one of my former coworkers for small town America. If nothing else, I could be a working comprimaria at their local opera house and a minor celebrity in the grocery store.
Many readers know that, in addition to singing opera, I have also written a play. It's called Duet and is the story of a young church singer whose life is transformed forever by singing Dalila's "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" under the tutelage of a charismatic voice coach. The play was produced in a tiny town in Texas and there was a story about me in their local paper. When I was interviewed, the interviewer asked if I would like a copy of the story sent to my "hometown paper". "Won't the people back home be proud of you?" he said. Well, I just burst out laughing. "My hometown paper is The New York TIMES", I said. "And no, I don't think they'd be interested."
So why haven't I moved? First of all, New York is where I come from so there's noplace to go back to. I wasn't strictly born in the Big Apple itself. I was born in Brooklyn Heights which used to be a lot like a small town, but now rents are prohibitive (my apartment in the armpit of Lincoln Center is rent stabilized), and it has lost its small town flavor. When I was growing up there was a theater troupe called The Heights Players which really was for the locals (in those days primarily housewives who had once dreamed of being actresses)and I and other local children sang in the chorus if they did a musical, but now as I understand it's overrun with people from the tristate area who are serious about having careers in the theatuh, much as the no-pay no-fee opera groups that used to comprise the Opera Underground several decades ago have now re-emerged as prep schools for yappers and resting places for managed professional singers between gigs.
So Brooklyn Heights really isn't an option. And when I add to the mix that there really is noplace I could live more cheaply, not to mention that I've never learned to drive, I'm sort of stuck here. Which is fine, most of the time, I just sometimes have these yearnings not to be such a tiny fish that I can't even really swim my way into a tiny pond.
Unless you count church fundraisers of course.
If I haven't mentioned it, my profile picture shows me hanging out in a minister's office preferatory to entertaining the congregation and their friends with the Habanera. An hour of dressing, including professionally applied stage makeup and a wig, for less than 10 minutes of singing, but I had a ball.
Some people idolize celebrities. I idolize "working singers" in my fach who sing medium sized roles and cover larger roles in medium size opera houses. I laugh when I read their postings about "coming to New York". For them, New York is the Promised Land, and my "nabe" is the Holy Grail. Maybe sometime I'll run into one of them on their way to an audition while I'm grocery shopping in my jeans, big hair, and stage makeup.
Oh, if I didn't mention it, even though I'm not a real diva, I always dress like one, even in the grocery store.
Now It's back to listening closely to my audition aria and coming up with solid ornamentation for the da capo.
A bientot.
Which brings me to a subject I have pondered for quite some time. What's a gal with a modest talent to do when her "local" this, that, and the other are Lincoln Center, the Met, and Juilliard??
Many's the time I wished I lived in "East Eggshell, Iowa", a generic catchword used by one of my former coworkers for small town America. If nothing else, I could be a working comprimaria at their local opera house and a minor celebrity in the grocery store.
Many readers know that, in addition to singing opera, I have also written a play. It's called Duet and is the story of a young church singer whose life is transformed forever by singing Dalila's "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" under the tutelage of a charismatic voice coach. The play was produced in a tiny town in Texas and there was a story about me in their local paper. When I was interviewed, the interviewer asked if I would like a copy of the story sent to my "hometown paper". "Won't the people back home be proud of you?" he said. Well, I just burst out laughing. "My hometown paper is The New York TIMES", I said. "And no, I don't think they'd be interested."
So why haven't I moved? First of all, New York is where I come from so there's noplace to go back to. I wasn't strictly born in the Big Apple itself. I was born in Brooklyn Heights which used to be a lot like a small town, but now rents are prohibitive (my apartment in the armpit of Lincoln Center is rent stabilized), and it has lost its small town flavor. When I was growing up there was a theater troupe called The Heights Players which really was for the locals (in those days primarily housewives who had once dreamed of being actresses)and I and other local children sang in the chorus if they did a musical, but now as I understand it's overrun with people from the tristate area who are serious about having careers in the theatuh, much as the no-pay no-fee opera groups that used to comprise the Opera Underground several decades ago have now re-emerged as prep schools for yappers and resting places for managed professional singers between gigs.
So Brooklyn Heights really isn't an option. And when I add to the mix that there really is noplace I could live more cheaply, not to mention that I've never learned to drive, I'm sort of stuck here. Which is fine, most of the time, I just sometimes have these yearnings not to be such a tiny fish that I can't even really swim my way into a tiny pond.
Unless you count church fundraisers of course.
If I haven't mentioned it, my profile picture shows me hanging out in a minister's office preferatory to entertaining the congregation and their friends with the Habanera. An hour of dressing, including professionally applied stage makeup and a wig, for less than 10 minutes of singing, but I had a ball.
Some people idolize celebrities. I idolize "working singers" in my fach who sing medium sized roles and cover larger roles in medium size opera houses. I laugh when I read their postings about "coming to New York". For them, New York is the Promised Land, and my "nabe" is the Holy Grail. Maybe sometime I'll run into one of them on their way to an audition while I'm grocery shopping in my jeans, big hair, and stage makeup.
Oh, if I didn't mention it, even though I'm not a real diva, I always dress like one, even in the grocery store.
Now It's back to listening closely to my audition aria and coming up with solid ornamentation for the da capo.
A bientot.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Am I a Novelty?
Seeing the movie Julie and Julia changed my life. No, I don't cook, but I sing opera. I am not a professional opera singer. I am an almost-60-year-old unpaid choir soloist who is polishing both my oratorio rep, which runs the gamut from "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth" and "Rejoice Greatly" to "Liber Scriptus", and my opera rep, which seems to fall under the Fach known as "baby dramatic mezzo". Seeing Julie and Julia made me realize that you don't have to have a major talent to be a celebrity, all you have to do is chronicle what you're doing and hope someone else finds it interesting. After all, I'm sure even Julie herself would admit that she was neither a great cook nor a great writer - just someone who was passionate about cooking who had a knack for self-promotion.
I have kept a private blog for years under a pseudonym (and yes, you will have to waterboard me to get the link to it). Most of what I wrote about had to do with my singing with odds and ends about my personal life thrown in. Since I want people "out there", whoever you are, to read about my life as a mature avocational singer, I decided to go public.
My Autobiography in Brief
I fooled around in what I now know was known as "the opera underground" in the 1970s when I was in my 20s. Since I had only recently quit smoking and kept myself thin enough to fit into a size 29 jeans by living on yoghurt and peanuts, my voice was quite small and my stamina minimal. So I specialized in "trouser roles". My last hurrah (in 1980)was singing the role of Laura in La Gioconda, by which point my voice had gotten some more heft to it. That was the last time I sang in public until I was "discovered" in 2003, singing from a hymnal from a back pew in my local Unitarian Church, by a charismatic figure who was the main influence on my life and art for the next six years at least. I have written about him at length elsewhere and will not do so here, suffice it to say that I reacquainted myself with solid vocal technique, learned something about the Dalcroze method, shed many tears, retooled my self-image, and decided that I wanted to sing seriously more than anything else in the world.
I was a regular soloist at that Unitarian church for two years and then moved on. I was told that Lutheran churches like operatic voices, so I found a lovely church fairly near where I live with a superb music director. I am not primarily a choral singer so "blending" in the choir while developing what has turned out to be a quite large operatic mezzo voice has been a big challenge, albeit not an insurmountable one. I usually sing second soprano, and sing solos at least once a season.
Since in my new incarnation as a rather more zaftig, larger voiced mezzo I developed an intense emotional relationship with the role of Dalila (people who know me from elsewhere have heard quite a lot about this!) I decided to "actualize" my dream of singing this role and put on a bare bones concert version at the Lutheran church mentioned above.
My current teacher (the one I had studied with in the 1970s, who has done nothing but good things for me) says that even though I am almost 60, I can probably continue to sing the "baby dramatic" mezzo repertoire for another 5-10 years. I take very good care of myself. In fact I am probably much healthier than I was in my 20s.
In addition to spinning my wheels as to where I can put on my next opera in concert, I also audition regularly for no-pay no-fee productions listed as being for "emerging pro" singers. One company out and out said (politely) that I was too old, even though the role I was auditioning for was La Zia Principessa in Suor Angelica. The rest have yielded nothing, but the experience of auditioning is good for me. It keeps it real. If nothing else, spending $10-$25 to put on a fabulous looking dress, stand up in front of several people, and sing (and present) an aria as best as I can, is worth a lot more to me than a movie ticket.
Starting this blog is also my way of saying that even if you don't, I take myself seriously as a singer.
A bientot.
I have kept a private blog for years under a pseudonym (and yes, you will have to waterboard me to get the link to it). Most of what I wrote about had to do with my singing with odds and ends about my personal life thrown in. Since I want people "out there", whoever you are, to read about my life as a mature avocational singer, I decided to go public.
My Autobiography in Brief
I fooled around in what I now know was known as "the opera underground" in the 1970s when I was in my 20s. Since I had only recently quit smoking and kept myself thin enough to fit into a size 29 jeans by living on yoghurt and peanuts, my voice was quite small and my stamina minimal. So I specialized in "trouser roles". My last hurrah (in 1980)was singing the role of Laura in La Gioconda, by which point my voice had gotten some more heft to it. That was the last time I sang in public until I was "discovered" in 2003, singing from a hymnal from a back pew in my local Unitarian Church, by a charismatic figure who was the main influence on my life and art for the next six years at least. I have written about him at length elsewhere and will not do so here, suffice it to say that I reacquainted myself with solid vocal technique, learned something about the Dalcroze method, shed many tears, retooled my self-image, and decided that I wanted to sing seriously more than anything else in the world.
I was a regular soloist at that Unitarian church for two years and then moved on. I was told that Lutheran churches like operatic voices, so I found a lovely church fairly near where I live with a superb music director. I am not primarily a choral singer so "blending" in the choir while developing what has turned out to be a quite large operatic mezzo voice has been a big challenge, albeit not an insurmountable one. I usually sing second soprano, and sing solos at least once a season.
Since in my new incarnation as a rather more zaftig, larger voiced mezzo I developed an intense emotional relationship with the role of Dalila (people who know me from elsewhere have heard quite a lot about this!) I decided to "actualize" my dream of singing this role and put on a bare bones concert version at the Lutheran church mentioned above.
My current teacher (the one I had studied with in the 1970s, who has done nothing but good things for me) says that even though I am almost 60, I can probably continue to sing the "baby dramatic" mezzo repertoire for another 5-10 years. I take very good care of myself. In fact I am probably much healthier than I was in my 20s.
In addition to spinning my wheels as to where I can put on my next opera in concert, I also audition regularly for no-pay no-fee productions listed as being for "emerging pro" singers. One company out and out said (politely) that I was too old, even though the role I was auditioning for was La Zia Principessa in Suor Angelica. The rest have yielded nothing, but the experience of auditioning is good for me. It keeps it real. If nothing else, spending $10-$25 to put on a fabulous looking dress, stand up in front of several people, and sing (and present) an aria as best as I can, is worth a lot more to me than a movie ticket.
Starting this blog is also my way of saying that even if you don't, I take myself seriously as a singer.
A bientot.
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