Playing the Age Card before Someone Else Does

This evening I went to my monthly group coaching. They have one every Tuesday night but I only go once a month. It's open to about 7-8 people and for $20 we get to sing three arias or whatever with a pianist.

I brought the Judgment Scene and ran through two sections of it. I sang well. I sing this well. And I got quite a bit of applause. I also sang all the way through my part of the "Vengeance Duet" from Samson et Dalila which also went well (my voice really moves, which comes as a surprise to many people), and then ended with the Habanera.

I told people that this was my 46th anniversary of singing the piece, since the first time I sang it I was 14. And I know I am still a hot Carmen no matter how old I am.

I think I'm really past the age when I care who knows how old I am. I mean 60 is a big number, and being able to sound as fresh and young as I do at my age is something to be proud of, not something to hide.

If I were, say, 42, and still hanging on by my fingernails hoping for a big break, knowing I was competing with people ten years younger, it might be another story. But at my age who cares? No one is going to "hire" me for money to sing anything and in fact no matter how good I sound no one is even going to cast me in any of the "emerging pro" performances (unless it's a character my age, in which case my age shouldn't matter).

I think I'm as sexy a Carmen as women half my age.

I mean I see so many women my age who obviously have just "given up". It isn't a question of God-given body size or shape, it's a question of attitude. I see these women (there are a lot of them in offices) who are either never-married or divorced or married for decades and what's the new acronym - DINS (that stands for double income, no sex). They have bad posture from sitting at a desk all day and walk like they're uncomfortable with their bodies. I am not like that. I remember reading somewhere that if you're over 50 sexuality is supposed to be "a giggle". Hello??? Not for this sexy sexagenarian. I take myself very seriously as a seductress. That's why Carmen and Dalila are my favorite roles. (Not to mention that the famous arias don't have any scary high notes.)

So in any event I just let it rip and had fun tonight "doing" Carmen.

Of course no matter how well I sing most of the people sing better. There was one young woman who sounded glorious, who is auditioning for a company that not only threw my audition materials in the garbage, but whose "head" called me up and insulted me for even sending them. Was that really necessary?

And of course this woman could just soar up into the vocal stratosphere with no fears at all!

It never ceases to amaze me that there are all these people (sopranos) for whom high notes hold no terrors. They may be afraid of long phrases, the passagio break, French, or forgetting their music, but not of a high C and certainly not of a high B!

Speaking of which that deadly phrase in the Amneris/Radames duet is getting easier and easier. I just pretend I'm singing the one in the Judgment Scene that's one half step lower!!

So tomorrow it's on to sing the alto part in a Bach cantata. At least it has a decent range (sort of) and lots of long phrases requiring good breath control, which I have.

Someplace New

This morning I was responding to a post congratulating someone on a major accomplishment and I mentioned how "all the little successes add up and suddenly you're somewhere you never dreamed you could be".

Well, even if I'm not there yet, I'm somewhere I never dreamed I could be. The other day, I was vocalizing, then walking around my apartment, and I realized my core felt like iron. That it was strong enough to "let" me sing with a big sound without all the hard work. It was as if the hard work had been already done and I was reaping the rewards, instead of feeling that I was puffing myself up and bracing myself for each phrase.

So yesterday my bass colleague and I sang through our concert program, which for me began with the Habanera and ended with "Mon Coeur". Yes, I still sing an F at the end, unapologetically! The accompanist had the mezzo aria book with her to play from and that's the note that's there, so if people don't like it they can lump it.

We sing the Judgment Scene right after I sing the Habanera, so I was careful not to pull out all the stops and get "hammy" with the Habanera, which for me means always skirting the edge of treating it like a rock song, with lots of bombastic chest voice. It was also always a way I used to have of telegraphing "well, my voice is far from perfect, but I sure am hawt!". So I sang it with the same attention to technique that I would sing, say, Dido's Lament.

No problems with the Judgment Scene except I have to remember to count during the opening monologue (we're using books, which is fine).

Then we did the Gioconda duet which I laughingly think of as the "domestic violence duet", then the bass sang an aria from Eugene Onegin in Russian! and then we launched into the Vengeance Duet from Samson et Dalila. I figure if they applaud a lot and want an encore we can sing the fast part again. We were thinking of making it the last thing on the program but it wouldn't make sense for me to sing "Mon Coeur" first since it comes after in the opera.

This morning during the service my choir sang the spiritual "Bye and Bye". I was singing second soprano but there were a few sections in four parts where all the sopranos had to sing pianissimo high G sharps. And I did it without getting tired, because my new abs of steel were holding me up!! So, ok, I didn't sing the bar before each time, but so what? That's the great thing about choral singing.

I was almost on the verge of starting to feel inferior again because there are several people in the choir who went to big conservatories and that often feels like an "exclusive club" like the Ivy League. I mean I don't think studying voice in a academic setting really makes a person sing better, to me it's more important to have a teacher who is a good fit for one's individual vocal issues, but it's a place to make connections and it's a "credential" that makes people take you seriously.

I think at times a lot of my feeling blue about singing is "Wizard of Oz-ish" in that the issue isn't how well I do or don't sing but that people don't take me seriously. If I didn't go to a conservatory, don't get paid for whatever singing I do in church, and sing the "big girl stuff" in homemade concerts, why should anyone care? People who know me want to talk to me about my editing work but they rarely even ask about my singing and that includes people who sing that I bump into in the blogosphere.

Anatomy of a Phrase

In the middle of having a so-so lesson on Friday (I panicked before the deadly phrase with the B flat, then sang it acceptably twice), I suddenly had an "aha" moment. (Now of course I need to beware of these....I will have one, sing a difficult phrase well, and then find a way to screw myself up again.)

The phrase that's giving me so much trouble is only one half step higher than the phrase toward the end of the Judgment scene where she sings "Ah no, non e, non e un traditor" with the vowel "eh" at one point being sung on an ascending scale up to high A and back down. Which is as easy as rolling out of bed for me. Well, that's an exaggeration. What I mean is I know exactly what to do, what it should feel like, and I do it. So I just need to sing the other phrase the same way!!!.

My teacher keeps saying (and this has now been borne out by the last two posts by the great Toreador Song)that a low larynx will never fail me. Any silly tricks I use to try to "save my voice" will just make everything close up. So yesterday in my bathroom I sang the bloody thing three times and it never snafu'd.

1. Take a big breath through my mouth (if I breathe through my nose it has to cut through all that sinus junk and things tighten up).
2. Leave my throat position where it is.
3. Sing a dark awww vowel and just let the scale progress upwards (while I think downwards) and forward, having faith that the bloody note will be there. I mean it's just a half a step past my comfort zone. One tiny little half a step!

Must try again later this afternoon.

You Gotta Have a Gimmick

This morning at choir practice I was talking to someone who has managed to get together a small group to sing early music. They don't make a lot of money (he still has a "day job") but the endeavor has really taken off and the four of them travel all over the country giving concerts. So in addition to having ready made opportunities to sing (or not really "ready made", since they have to plan them, but, rather, "logical" if they're following a long range plan) they also get to do the kind of "fun" things people do when they travel to perform.

Then this man was telling me about another man from the choir who had left his job as a well-paid lawyer to work in the theater. (I'm not sure in what capacity - possibly as a director or choreographer.)

So what am I lacking here? Why can't I dream up something? Both my mother and my partner have always been lukewarm about my obsession with singing opera and keep asking me "why I don't want to do what Barbara Cook does?" I mean, ok, Barbara Cook is sui generis - there will never be another Barbara Cook, but what they mean is why don't I work up a cabaret show? The reason I don't is that I want to sing opera. That's what I love. OK, I know I'm too old to be cast by anyone else in a leading role, also that most of the leading roles I want to sing probably require more stamina than I will ever have given my age, my mostly sedentary lifestyle, and my jumping into the game late. Also many of those roles require a note or two that I'm not comfortable with. But there's nothing stopping me from singing scenes from all those operas, the scenes that don't have too many scary high notes, and that can be sequenced with easy things to sing like the Habanera or "Mon Coeur" in a concert.

I suppose, ironically, the repertoire that suits me best is oratorio. (I say "ironically" because my parents were militant atheists.) What's great about oratorio is I can sing with my big operatic voice without having to go to the ends of my range, or needing a lot of stamina. Even most of the soprano arias don't go scarily high (something that surprises people is how well I sing "Rejoice Greatly", which, in fact, only goes up to an A flat). But since I'm not a paid church singer (or a "name" of any kind), the likelihood of my getting to do much of that sort of thing other than the odd solo at my current choir gig is unlikely. (Maybe do a pocket "Verdi Requiem" - no chorus - some time as a special Lent program? That had been on my wish list but other things are ahead of it in the queue.)

But really none of that differentiates me from the herd. I'm just another mezzo, older than most who are still in the game, with a limited range, not a whole lot of stamina, minimal musical training, really nothing but red hair and a lot of chutzpah.

The problem is nothing "gimmicky" really comes to mind. I don't like rock or pop, don't write my own songs (and wouldn't want to), and am stumped when I try to come up with a one woman show - not a cabaret show, but maybe a little autobiography and a few arias.

Is the problem really that I lack imagination?

Choir Musings

I love my choir. Even though we don't get paid, the caliber is very high (I would defy anyone to pick it out of a group of New York choirs as being the one that's "amateur"); the music director is wonderful (I have never once heard him ask anyone to sing "straight tone", a vibrato-less way of singing that is the bane of most classically trained singers' existence); the people are really nice; and the Lutheran church has a progressive social justice message that appeals to this Unitarian, anyhow.

But I always appreciate having a break in the summer because taking a rest from trying to "blend" my voice (which for me means singing softly above the staff no matter what dynamics are written) is good for my vocal development.

For example I noticed when I came back to rehearsals a week or so ago I seemed to have more stamina and was able to sing a healthy pianissimo, or even hum on some of the higher notes rather than squeezing my larynx upwards and getting tired.

Part of the problem, of course, is that I sing in the soprano section.

Since I'm a mezzo who desperately needs every workout for my head register that I can possibly get, I avoid choral alto sections like the plague, because being stuck there, I would be lucky to get to sing an E (top space of the staff) every couple of months!! I mean I don't mind singing alto once in a while. Sometimes I'll do it if the piece we're singing is in four parts and the soprano part has a lot of "light" singing above the staff, if I'm singing a solo in a particular service and don't want to tire my voice, or if the composer has done something nice for us operatic mezzos and thrown in a note or two beyond the range of your average untrained choir alto (let's hear it for the Samuel Barber "Agnus Dei" where Alto 1 gets a high A flat!!)

But then of course singing soprano comes with its own set of problems.

I'm fine if the piece is in eight parts. Second soprano is really what a mezzo is so I'm in my comfort zone. Second soprano parts regularly go up to an E, an F, or even a G, but not above, and you rarely would have to sing softly above the staff. And since there's a part above me I can worry less about keeping the volume down.

Interestingly, Bach soprano parts are usually easy for me for some reason. Probably because they move. The "Halleluia Chorus" on the other hand is deadly. The only time I've gotten through it without choking was when I was a paid section leader (on one Easter only) and therefore felt entitled to sing as loud as was necessary to keep my larynx down.

In any event, coming back from my break I can see that I seem to get much less tired. Last night two of the pieces we sang had a high-ish tessitura (one had a second soprano part, but there were sections in four parts only with some G sharps meant to be sung lightly), but I really only ended up feeling the need to "cheat" (for me that means not singing the measure before any measure with a difficult high passage) at the very end of the rehearsal.

I will still probably stay home from choir practice the Wednesday before my concert, though, because I don't think choral soprano parts and the "Judgment Scene" are a good mix.

Mentors

I have been wanting to make a post on this subject for a long time, and am now inspired to by the circulation of a New York TIMES review of a new book called Bounce.

The thrust of the book (or of the review, in any event) is that hard work is much more important than talent. That high achievers (in sports, the arts, or chess) differ from others in that they spend hours practicing, in a fashion the author calls "chunking". (Brings to mind all the blood, sweat, tears, and obsessive thinking I've brought to that Amneris/Radames duet lately.)

Yes, in the talent/hard work debate I've always known that hard work trumps all, but there's a third factor that was not mentioned, at least in the review.

Mentors.

Now I am not referring to the silly (and ungrammatical)cliche "It's not what you know it's who(sic) you know". I'm not talking about using connections (with or without money or sex) to buy what you want. I'm talking about having the right person or persons in your life at the right time, to give you that extra push, pep talk, compliment, or whatever, to let you know that your talent (and the hard work needed to nurture it) matters.

I think in hindsight that my overwhelming obsession with The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed stemmed from his being exactly the sort of person I am talking about. If I had met him 40 years ago, and he had held the side order of flirting - or not; maybe that was what carried the message - the course of my life might have changed significantly. But by the time he appeared I was well into my 50s, a minimum of fifteen years (and that's pushing it) past the age when any serious managers, coaches, directors, or producers would give a rat's tushy if I could sound like one of the Met mezzos with a little polishing. So for good or ill (and the jury continues to be out on this) all I got out of it was a homemade production of Samson et Dalila, a gig as an unpaid church soloist, and a chance to explore my own talent as a superannuated wannabe.

But suppose I had had someone when I was younger? Suppose my mother had nurtured my singing the way she nurtured my writing? Suppose a teacher in school had noticed my voice and taken me under her wing. I know every time I mention this I sound like a disgruntled Tea Partyer, but it's really true that in Brooklyn c. 1965, in my large public high school, the Black and Latino students were encouraged so sing (or dance, or play sports) and the white and Asian students were encouraged to take advanced calculus and elective civics. My mother and her friends all loved classical music, even opera (although my mother would only go to hear Mozart, Wagner, or something contemporary) but thought my interest in performing was "silly" and that I should be out protesting the VietNam War, writing modernist poetry, or, if I was going to sing, doing something edgy and avante garde. I liked Verdi??? How middlebrow.

And then there was my smoking habit. True, no one encouraged it, but no one, not even the voice teacher I went to for a few casual lessons, sat me down and read me the riot act, saying that I had an unusual talent and that if I didn't quit smoking immediately I would ruin it. (And yes, so what if I gained 10 or 15 pounds!)

When I finally put all my destructive addictions behind me and began really singing well, there was the issue of my partner. When I fell in love with her at 25 I had no idea I was marrying an ideology not just a person. And that ideology had no room for non-income-generating activities involving spending lots of time with straight men, not to mention as sexist an art form as opera. And I was young and impressionable and bought into it. And despite having a good voice teacher, who told me all the right things regarding how and what to sing, there was no one taking a holistic approach to my life.

So what I'm saying here is that not only is talent not enough, hard work is not enough either if no one really cares. If you don't make the right connections. If the road you choose is going in the wrong direction to nurture your talent and encourage your hard work, rather than in the right one.

Well, I guess since I can't turn back the clock, I'll just have to go back to "chunking".

Storm Has Passed

So OK, Gentle Readers. I owe it to you all to let you know I'm feeling a lot better.

First of all, my check came in the mail. The downside of being a freelancer is you never know when you're going to have work and you never know when you're going to get paid for the work that you did. But I wouldn't trade it for the world. Even with all the anxiety, this sure beats the mind-numbing boredom (not to mention all the infantilizing rules) of working in an office, even in a fairly high level job. Believe me, I know.

And second of all, I had a really good practice. Am I really winning the "Battle of the B flat" this time? Well, if nothing else, I am deconstructing this piece way in advance of when I'll have to sing it. When I use some of Agnes Baltsa's tricks, it seems easier. She doesn't take a breath in the middle of the upward progression and she also doesn't sing any words!! Just "Ahh". And she doesn't really do a portamento at the end of the first "Or dal ciel si compira". That's where I was needing a good breath and the portamento didn't allow time for it. Now I have no idea if my teacher will be ok with these tricks, but at least they're helping me get through it. And my voice is a lot more like Baltsa's than like Simionato's or Cossotto's - or Zajick's. I don't have a big chest register and my instrument is more wiry and slender, possibly because however big my hips are on a given year, I have a long narrow head (hence the need for all the big hair).

After singing through the scene beginning at "Ma, s'io ti salva" (which is where you have no breaks) and being happy with it I sang through the Judgment Scene which really, now, is like rolling out of bed.

And I seem to have more stamina singing with the choir. One good thing about having a conservatory-trained soprano sitting next to me (no one else in the section would ever sit next to me - LOL!) is that I can sing with my larynx down and she isn't going to tell me to shut up. Also I can hear her, whether we're singing the same part or she's on soprano 1 and I'm on soprano 2.

One of the pieces we're singing is a spiritual where the whole soprano section sings quite a few high G sharps. Not a difficult note for me but it is if I've got people hocking me to keep the volume down. Also I used to get tired singing in that tessitura but I noticed I didn't last night. So all that is good.

A Very Tiny Fish

Usually I take my bad moods to "the other place" (someplace I write under a pseudonym and yes, you will have to waterboard me to get the link), but since this one is specifically about singing, why not bring it before a wider audience.

First of all, I am not in a great mood because I have no freelance work on the immediate horizon (something's supposed to come in at the end of the month) and I'm waiting for a check to come in the mail.

Then I heard one of the "real" singers in my building warm up. By "real" I mean she is no doubt under 45 and makes a living entirely from music-related activities, like cantoring, giving voice lessons, and singing a leading operatic role at a C or D house.

And to add insult to injury, she is a large-voiced soprano who can, oh so easily, sail up above high C.

So ok, I am really really really envious not just of singers who can do it for a living, but also of singers who don't have to struggle and fight just to sing a note or two above A natural. And this includes a lot of mezzos. My teacher assures me that this is physiological, not technical. He is not the only teacher I have studied with but aside from being able to sing staccati up to an E flat as a teenager (before I was well ensonced into my two pack a day cigarette habit), I have really never been able to sing consistently above A natural no matter what technique or imagery I use. I mentioned my teenage smoking here, but I've been told that since I haven't had a cigarette in almost 30 years now, that is not the culprit. My teacher says my vocal chords may be "shorter and thicker" than many female singers, even mezzos.

So ok. I will never have an easy upper register (for an opera singer - compared to people who sing pop or even some MT my voice sounds very high)just as I will never have narrow hips or be 5 foot 8 (I am still hoping to make it back up to 5 foot 5, since I was once 5 foot 6).

It's also very painful being a wannabe living around the corner from the Met. I mean most of the time I feel truly blessed. I have a rent stabilized apartment around the corner from the Met, on a safe street, in a building where dogs are allowed, where there's an elevator, and where we have a very strong tenants association that lobbies for our rights and then some. So barring a disaster or a huge windfall, I intend to die here.

But on the other hand I am constantly reminded that I am way at the bottom of the food chain where singing is concerned. The city is crawling with women who sound as good (and can sing a note or three higher than I can with no struggle), look as good, are 30 years younger, have conservatory degrees, and all sorts of apprenticeships and YAPs on their resumes.

So what am I really? A middle aged (well, they now say middle age lasts until you're 60) who had the chutzpah and ingenuity to put on a concert version of Samson et Dalila in a church? Who has the chutzpah to get up and sing in "meetups" where everyone else is either (much) younger or managed? I mean even in our no-pay Upper West Side choir now there are "stars" from conservatories. So ok, there are 52 weeks of the year and I can still get plenty of solo spots.

So, ok, I just have to look on the brighter side. Today I have a "free" day (I mean really, there are only so many hours I can send out resumes) so after picking up my mail (and hoping there's a check there), and doing a few errands, I can take my "battle with the B flat" into my bathroom with the water running full blast.

I really only have a few more days to wrestle with this duet. My nursing home concert is coming up where I'm singing the Judgment Scene (not hard for me) and several other duets so I need to go back to those.

And make sure I know the second soprano part on this spiritual we're singing.

More from May 17, 2008 Samson et Dalila in Concert

OK. this came as a total surprise. I had expected to receive the earlier one seen here, because my friend, who took it with a digital camera and then had to figure out how to make a print of it, told me it was coming. But this one was a complete surprise.

If I haven't mentioned it already, this performance was the culmination of over four years of planning and dreaming of singing this role. It should have allowed me an afterglow lasting several weeks, at least, where I could have been the person who sang that role, talking about it to friends, the way one talks about a prom or a wedding, but it just so happened that the very next day there was some ugliness at work, caused by mistakes that, yes, I was partially responsible for, but that wouldn't have happened if we hadn't outsourced a lot of work to the Philippines! So that work problem ended up front and center on my screen (and everyone else's) which meant no one asked about or was interested in hearing about my special day. (Even I didn't have the energy to deliciously daydream about it.)

I don't know about other people, but for me, a major achievement is special not only in and of itself, but also in that it affects my feelings about myself. So no matter how dreary my daylife was (and believe me, it was dreary!!) to a handful of people on one afternoon, I was a real diva. I mean what I did wouldn't bear discussing with the Forum crowd, who are off auditioning for C and D houses for a paycheck, but to laypeople, I'm a singer.

I've often thought if I had lived in a small town, I would really have been a diva doing something like that, since it would have been the extent of most people's exposure to opera. But not here in the Big Apple, alas.

So now it's back to work. On my art, I mean. And yes, on my freelance editing, which is nice because it's something I do but it doesn't define me. If I walk into the supermarket with all my makeup on, no one knows if I'm a copy editor, a paid performing artist, or a lady of the evening in the morning (apologies to Rogers and Hart).

Domingo & Baltsa in duet act IV from Verdi's Aida

Yes!

1. She was my age when she sang this. In fact, I remember it on tv.

2. She ignores the portamento after the first "si compira", which is an energy drain.

3. She doesn't sing any words on the ascending scale, just "ah" and doesn't take a breath.

4. It's totally awesome.

Happy and Grateful

Today I am very happy and grateful.

First of all, today is 35 years without a drink (since "being on the wagon" is slang for being sober, I couldn't resist the graphic).

It's really hard to fathom. I drank heavily from the age of 18 through a few months past my 25th birthday (during what, if I were young now, would be called my "emerging adulthood").

Drinking wreaked havoc with every area of my life but I in some ways I don't think it did as much damage to me as a singer as the fact that I started smoking at age 14. I started smoking because I thought I was "hugely fat". I was not. I was five foot 6 and my weight fluctuated between 140 and 160. So, ok, at 160 I was too heavy but at 140-150 I wasn't even overweight and had what in the 1940s or 1950s would have been considered a sexy figure.

Ironically, it was not long after I started smoking that people began commenting on what an extraordinary voice I had. I sang in the soprano section of my glee club (because it was easy for me to sing a G or an A - still is, but not higher) and sounded like Julie Andrews with the volume ramped way up. I began to toy with the idea that I could be a singer, however I simply could not give up the demon weed. Not long after that I began drinking (and stuffing my face with just about anything else I could find - except LSD, which I had heard could make you crazy for life).

I stopped drinking a few months after my 25th birthday and about a year later stopped smoking (the first time). After that I started studying voice with the teacher I'm studying with today (before that I had done a brief stint as a chorister and cover for the lead contralto in a Gilbert & Sullivan troupe)and kept singing better and better over the next four years. I stopped at 30 (I've written quite a bit about this - my choice was based on a need for a more regular income, wanting to go to college at night, and my partner's dislike of my involvement with an avocational activity where there were too many straight men) and then went right back to smoking.

Fortunately, not for very long, since a woman who was my age (32) had died of lung cancer, which scared me. Also, just as I was told that "dykes don't sing opera" I was also told that "self-loving dykes don't smoke", which, I guess, helped. Although I never went back to singing - not until I was 54.

Although I wanted to smoke every single day up until I began singing again, fortunately, I have never wanted to drink after about the first year.

No matter how much I kvetch, I am very blessed. I am extremely healthy for someone of 60, and, at the same weight and height I was at 12, where I was teased for being fat, I am considered "curvy and trim" compared to most women my age. I have someone who adores me, even though she lives with many mental and physical (and financial) challenges, and the privilege of being able to work freelance and get health insurance for my former employer, who considers me a "retiree".

And I'm singing better and better. Yes, I often feel envious, sad, and self-hating because I buckled under to pressure and never went back to singing until I was seduced into it by The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed, but I have what I have now. I am getting to learn one of my dream roles (Amneris) and even if I will probably never have the stamina (or a decent C flat) to sing the whole opera I can sing various scenes in concerts, which I am signed up to do over the next year.

While we're on that subject, I had a really good runthrough of the duet yesterday, beginning with "L'abborita rival". Yes, singing that upward progression on one breath with my mouth closed at the beginning, is the key.

Then I went with my partner to see My Dog Tulip and came back to her house to see our beloved Dachshund, who is getting better every day!

Continuing to Slog Along

Yesterday I had a lesson and didn't really sing all that well. It's unusual for me not to sing as well at a lesson as I do at home, but maybe I was just tired. It was in the mid-80s and very humid. And I had had a busy day beforehand.

I am still struggling with "Chi ti Salva". It seems that no matter what approach I try, what technique I use, blah, blah, blah, singing B flats (never mind anything higher, which I wouldn't attempt in public) is just bloody hard and sometimes the note is there, sometimes not.

I thought I had gotten past that when I did so well with "O Ma Lyre Immortelle". I always nailed that B flat at the end, even if it was just a scream on pitch.

The problem with this scene seems to be when I start at the beginning. So after 45 minutes of hard work on exercises, my teacher made me begin at the very beginning, with "L'abborita rival". And then he went over a lot of it with a fine tooth comb. He says he is now acting as a coach not just a teacher and he wants to make sure everything is stylistically correct. So we went back over a lot of the phrases and did them several times. I mean there's nothing up until "Chi ti salva" that's vocally difficult, but it is a lot of singing.

So when we got to "Chi ti salva" I literally could not sing that note - it was in danger of being a hideous yell. That scares me. I can't risk ever singing like that in public. Well, I don't have to think about it. I have until April to get this in shape and on a day I would be singing it in public I would be well rested and I would know exactly what I was doing every minute.

My teacher didn't seem to think it was serious. He said some of the problem is I'm still learning the piece, fumbling for notes, words, etc.

Then we tried something different. I realized I never have trouble singing long scales. In fact I can usually do those up to a C. And when I've felt like interpolating a B flat as part of a run in "Rejoice Greatly" it has not been that hard (I usually don't bother). So I've decided to approach that progression by not taking a breath and just starting "Or dal ciel" on the C and not breathing until I've gone up and back. If I keep my mouth closed up until the G I will save my energy.

Oh, I totally forgot. I had mentioned "cheating" a while ago. My teacher said that's a no no.

I mean the thing is bloody hard. There's no place to take a rest beginning at "Ma, s'io ti salva" and it's heavy singing going on from that.

My teacher and I also talked about strength, girth, and stamina. He referred to me as "small" which makes me laugh since I'm 5 3.5 and weigh 143. As far as BMI is concerned I'm on the borderline for being overweight. My teacher said singers don't need to be "fat" but most good singers, certainly with big voices, have a lot of muscle mass around the middle, like Dolora Zajick.

In other news, I have been watching the US Open. I am not a big sports fan but I love women's tennis and also listening to talk about how athletes train and isolate weaknesses and train over and over to improve a skill is very inspirational to me working on my voice. I may be old, tired, weak(er - compared to younger singers with years of training) but I can work and work and work and perfect my art until I drop dead, if that's what I want to do.