Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth writing anything here - no one comments. But maybe someday my luck will turn and this will be "discovered" (much more likely than that I will be "discovered" as a singer).
I had a reasonably good lesson Tuesday. My teacher said yes, he would be interested in doing a concert of duets at the nursing home, maybe next Spring. We could do things from Aida, Trovatore, and maybe Gioconda. I will see if the woman I interfaced with there would be willing to have me back.
He also thinks focusing on some of these Bach alto pieces is good. There's less stress involved and it will enable me to perform "chamber music" which is a less crowded market than opera and also it's part of the mission of the Lutheran Church where I sing to produce chamber music concerts.
As for choir happenings, I'm definitely on for the Tiffany Windows service, probably with the Mozart "Laudate Dominum" but I'm open to other ideas. And the choir director said yes, it would be nice to squeeze in the Duruffle "Pie Jesu" during Lent with his wife on the cello.
I do think, however, that I may have to scrap the idea of trying to sing the top women's part in "Abendlied" (Rheinberger). There are 3 women's parts but they're marked SAA not SSA so he didn't automatically put me on the middle part. It doesn' have any high notes - only goes up to a G - but the whole thing sits between the C above middle C and that G and is sustained pianissimo (what kills me is an E flat that you have to hold for 10 counts). The middle part involves sustained singing from the G above middle C to the C above middle C, which is easier. I tried singing the top part yesterday and my throat got very tight. I will learn both parts and ask my teacher. It's funny. In opera I am perfectly happy to be a mezzo (although I wish I were one with an easier B flat and B natural). I don't have "soprano envy". But in the choir it's always the high soprano(s) who get attention. They are the stars because particularly in an avocational setting, people are wowed by the fact that anyone can sing up there. The untrained sopranos struggle with an A, for example, which is probably why I was put in the soprano section to begin with. But for example in a piece like "Abendlied", those women with smaller voices can take breaths in the middle of notes and no one will notice. I either have to sing a note or pass on it but if I take a breath in the middle of that E flat, for example, everyone will hear it. I suppose what I mean is that in a choir if you're not either a soprano or a tenor singing a very high note or a bass singing a very low note there's no "wow" factor. And I'm a "wow" factor kinda gal.
I'm writing here about singing but I'm also in a state of mortal terror because on June 12 the State Legislature is voting on rent stabilization again, and with a Republican-controlled senate it is very scary. I could be out on the street when my lease is up, now when I'm so vulnerable with a seriously reduced income. On the other hand I will be 62 when my lease is up so I may have some protections. Or maybe New York City (which would renew those laws easily but doesn't have the power) will threaten to become the 51st state, which might not be a bad thing.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
A Possible Snub and A Good Practice
I shouldn't really care about this, but...
One place I have had as a venue to strut my stuff for the last two years (2009 and 2010) was, believe it or not, the old Unitarian church where I found God, my voice, and The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed.
Not as a choir soloist, but as a guest artist in a cabaret entitled "Divine Drag" and I forget what else, to raise money for an LGBT youth shelter.
The first year I decided to sing the Habanera from Carmen. Yes, there's more drag for mezzos in opera than you can shake a stick at, but I've been there, done that, and, to quote something a colleague said in another context - I'm done. Meaning I'm done playing the LGBT card. I'm a big buxom girl with a big voice and I ain't playing any more boys. So I laughingly decided, well, for a WASP-y looking girl to put on a black wig and some gypsy duds is drag enough. As I mentioned here, I was once told I was too, well, white to play Carmen and something about that stuck with me.
Well, divine drag it was and it was on Valentine's Day and I got to make peace with himself.
And singing was only half the fun. Even more fun was getting to have a professional makeup job done by the "lady" sharing the photo with me. I know many women get to experience that sort of thing, not just performing artists, but gals who have had formal weddings, even Bat Mitzvahs. But when your mother's a communist, that sort of thing is just not in the culture (hence my love affair with dressing up?)
Well, the following year, even though I had had the perm from Hell and was definitely having a bad hair day, I upped the ante and went for Sappho's "O Ma Lyre Immortelle". This is a somewhat obscure mezzo aria that is quite lovely, and has a scenery chewing coda complete with a high B flat. I don't know why, but I've never had a problem with that particular B flat. Maybe because she's screaming before throwing herself into the ocean.
I sang well. Not my best (the backstage area was full of incense dust) but I hung onto that note for dear life and got thunderous applause. The audience was full of gay men and they love a scenery chewing diva. And I milked it for all it was worth, curtesying in the traditional diva way, what? seven times? Well, I was on a bill with pop singers, folk singers, dancers, and comics. So I had the diva moment all to myself.
But getting back to the "snub". The person hosting this event year after year is my bass friend, the one who sang in the nursing home concert with me. Both years I sang in the event because he invited me (a nice change from constantly feeling I have to do it all myself). Well, this year there was no invite, which I didn't dwell on. I think I had told him I was doing Carmelites and anyhow there might not have been a cabaret this year as the church has a new music director. Well, this morning I searched my email for the bass's address because I wanted to tell him I had a copy of "Ich Habe Genug" for bass solo (long story, not worth detailing here)and did he want it. And when I searched my email for his last name, it came up in the church newsletter, which I still get, saying he was running the cabaret again (it was this past Saturday). Now true, an earlier mentioned asked for volunteers, but no. I am not volunteering for that sort of thing. I expect to be asked. So what was the deal? I didn't mention it in my email to him because I want to see if he mentions it but still I wonder. Did the minister at the church (who deserves Barbara Bush's epithet that rhymes with rich) say "I don't want Babydramatic here again?" I know both times I sang in the event she said nothing other than to ask me how my partner was. (Yes, this is one of the reasons why I have stayed at the Lutheran church. Even though I'm not a parishioner, the pastors always say something nice when I sing.) Well, I can't brood about this. It's what AA calls "the luxury department" meaning it's a luxury to scratch your brain trying to figure out why someone did or didn't do something.
As for the second half of my post title, I had a really good practice. I can hit the dreaded note in "Condotta" if I use the portamento and I even had a good run through my nemesis, aka the ascending phrase in the Amneris/Radames duet, which I haven't looked at in several months. And "Erfreute Zeit", aka Cantata 83, really rocks. I never was that into making a big show out of low notes before but as this piece doesn't have any high notes, I will milk them (and the rapid fire fioratura) for all it's worth.
One place I have had as a venue to strut my stuff for the last two years (2009 and 2010) was, believe it or not, the old Unitarian church where I found God, my voice, and The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed.
Not as a choir soloist, but as a guest artist in a cabaret entitled "Divine Drag" and I forget what else, to raise money for an LGBT youth shelter.
The first year I decided to sing the Habanera from Carmen. Yes, there's more drag for mezzos in opera than you can shake a stick at, but I've been there, done that, and, to quote something a colleague said in another context - I'm done. Meaning I'm done playing the LGBT card. I'm a big buxom girl with a big voice and I ain't playing any more boys. So I laughingly decided, well, for a WASP-y looking girl to put on a black wig and some gypsy duds is drag enough. As I mentioned here, I was once told I was too, well, white to play Carmen and something about that stuck with me.
Well, divine drag it was and it was on Valentine's Day and I got to make peace with himself.
And singing was only half the fun. Even more fun was getting to have a professional makeup job done by the "lady" sharing the photo with me. I know many women get to experience that sort of thing, not just performing artists, but gals who have had formal weddings, even Bat Mitzvahs. But when your mother's a communist, that sort of thing is just not in the culture (hence my love affair with dressing up?)
Well, the following year, even though I had had the perm from Hell and was definitely having a bad hair day, I upped the ante and went for Sappho's "O Ma Lyre Immortelle". This is a somewhat obscure mezzo aria that is quite lovely, and has a scenery chewing coda complete with a high B flat. I don't know why, but I've never had a problem with that particular B flat. Maybe because she's screaming before throwing herself into the ocean.
I sang well. Not my best (the backstage area was full of incense dust) but I hung onto that note for dear life and got thunderous applause. The audience was full of gay men and they love a scenery chewing diva. And I milked it for all it was worth, curtesying in the traditional diva way, what? seven times? Well, I was on a bill with pop singers, folk singers, dancers, and comics. So I had the diva moment all to myself.
But getting back to the "snub". The person hosting this event year after year is my bass friend, the one who sang in the nursing home concert with me. Both years I sang in the event because he invited me (a nice change from constantly feeling I have to do it all myself). Well, this year there was no invite, which I didn't dwell on. I think I had told him I was doing Carmelites and anyhow there might not have been a cabaret this year as the church has a new music director. Well, this morning I searched my email for the bass's address because I wanted to tell him I had a copy of "Ich Habe Genug" for bass solo (long story, not worth detailing here)and did he want it. And when I searched my email for his last name, it came up in the church newsletter, which I still get, saying he was running the cabaret again (it was this past Saturday). Now true, an earlier mentioned asked for volunteers, but no. I am not volunteering for that sort of thing. I expect to be asked. So what was the deal? I didn't mention it in my email to him because I want to see if he mentions it but still I wonder. Did the minister at the church (who deserves Barbara Bush's epithet that rhymes with rich) say "I don't want Babydramatic here again?" I know both times I sang in the event she said nothing other than to ask me how my partner was. (Yes, this is one of the reasons why I have stayed at the Lutheran church. Even though I'm not a parishioner, the pastors always say something nice when I sing.) Well, I can't brood about this. It's what AA calls "the luxury department" meaning it's a luxury to scratch your brain trying to figure out why someone did or didn't do something.
As for the second half of my post title, I had a really good practice. I can hit the dreaded note in "Condotta" if I use the portamento and I even had a good run through my nemesis, aka the ascending phrase in the Amneris/Radames duet, which I haven't looked at in several months. And "Erfreute Zeit", aka Cantata 83, really rocks. I never was that into making a big show out of low notes before but as this piece doesn't have any high notes, I will milk them (and the rapid fire fioratura) for all it's worth.
A Kick in the Pants
I woke up this morning, rather embarrassed about having done a status update on Facebook that I needed a kick in the pants to get my "diva self" going again, and was going to delete it, but when I saw that the esteemed Susan Eichhorn-Young "liked" it, I decided to leave it and really try to address the problem.
Ever since the following things happened I have lost the will and energy to put myself out there (I have not lost the will and energy to sing every day or learn new music):
1.I was trashed for mysterious reasons by the Carmelites director in a setting where almost all the singers were half my age.
2.The new hotshot coloratura showed up at choir and has been given one flashy descant after another to sing in various anthems (the solo spots are still pretty much evenly distributed).
3.My mother died.
4.I have been seriously worried about whether or not I can make enough money freelancing and hence have been doing all I can to focus my organizing skills on time management.
What kept me going for so long, certainly through the planning stages of my concert version of Samson et Dalila was anger, mostly at The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed, but also at the other people from the Unitarian Church where I had been "discovered", who had so raised my hopes up, made me feel special, and then dropped me like a hot potato. I was going to prove that yes, I could do something, even something small, and yes I really was a diva, not just someone you could stick in the back of an untrained choir singing bloody "Imagine"!!! But back then I had my mother, whom I rarely miss, and who was hardly supportive of me most of the time, but who stood with me if I wanted to go out and sing and leave my (mostly ex) partner to scream her head off. But now my partner is frail and unable to care for herself, our little dog
is probably going to leave us soon, and I'm worried about my financial security.
None of this stops me from singing, but it does seem to stop me from taking myself seriously enough to make plans, other than asking the choir director about solos (speaking of which the brouhaha about my being asked to sing for the Tiffany dedication continues and I'm not sure where I stand there).
So OK, what's on the table:
1. I have given the violinist at the church five Bach solo arias to look at and I will soon have "Ich Habe Genug" to give him. So if he will be my champion, maybe we can get a spot on the church concert roster that I don't have to pay for (I was told if I wanted to produce another opera I would have to pay them to use the space.)
2. Maybe I can revive my teacher's interest in a concert. If we have to sing at the nursing home, maybe that's ok. I heard him sing in a concert at the Bruno Walter Auditorium at the Lincoln Center Library and the audience was just one step away from what one would find at the home. He sounded fabulous so maybe he would like to showcase some Verdi?
3. Try to find out how I can get an event into the Bruno Walter, so that I can revisit the idea of my pocket version of Carmen.
4. Bring "Condotta" to one of those coaching classes. I'm supposed to do the Aida/Amneris duet but haven't heard back from the soprano.
It would help if I got a few rah rahs here, but I noticed no one has commented here since before the New Year!
Ever since the following things happened I have lost the will and energy to put myself out there (I have not lost the will and energy to sing every day or learn new music):
1.I was trashed for mysterious reasons by the Carmelites director in a setting where almost all the singers were half my age.
2.The new hotshot coloratura showed up at choir and has been given one flashy descant after another to sing in various anthems (the solo spots are still pretty much evenly distributed).
3.My mother died.
4.I have been seriously worried about whether or not I can make enough money freelancing and hence have been doing all I can to focus my organizing skills on time management.
What kept me going for so long, certainly through the planning stages of my concert version of Samson et Dalila was anger, mostly at The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed, but also at the other people from the Unitarian Church where I had been "discovered", who had so raised my hopes up, made me feel special, and then dropped me like a hot potato. I was going to prove that yes, I could do something, even something small, and yes I really was a diva, not just someone you could stick in the back of an untrained choir singing bloody "Imagine"!!! But back then I had my mother, whom I rarely miss, and who was hardly supportive of me most of the time, but who stood with me if I wanted to go out and sing and leave my (mostly ex) partner to scream her head off. But now my partner is frail and unable to care for herself, our little dog
is probably going to leave us soon, and I'm worried about my financial security.
None of this stops me from singing, but it does seem to stop me from taking myself seriously enough to make plans, other than asking the choir director about solos (speaking of which the brouhaha about my being asked to sing for the Tiffany dedication continues and I'm not sure where I stand there).
So OK, what's on the table:
1. I have given the violinist at the church five Bach solo arias to look at and I will soon have "Ich Habe Genug" to give him. So if he will be my champion, maybe we can get a spot on the church concert roster that I don't have to pay for (I was told if I wanted to produce another opera I would have to pay them to use the space.)
2. Maybe I can revive my teacher's interest in a concert. If we have to sing at the nursing home, maybe that's ok. I heard him sing in a concert at the Bruno Walter Auditorium at the Lincoln Center Library and the audience was just one step away from what one would find at the home. He sounded fabulous so maybe he would like to showcase some Verdi?
3. Try to find out how I can get an event into the Bruno Walter, so that I can revisit the idea of my pocket version of Carmen.
4. Bring "Condotta" to one of those coaching classes. I'm supposed to do the Aida/Amneris duet but haven't heard back from the soprano.
It would help if I got a few rah rahs here, but I noticed no one has commented here since before the New Year!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentine's Day
For the past six years, I have done most of my writing of a personal nature under a pseudonymn, where I could write about things I can't write about here, but as time goes on I get somewhat bolder (the more compellingly I write here, the more readers I will get) albeit still careful not to write anything that would cause anyone else hurt, or me, embarrassment.
But as my life, for good or ill, changed forever on February 15, 2004, in ways that I both can and can't write about in a public blog, I began rooting around my pseudonymous posts for something profound to say about that day, and about how far I've come.
It has been 7 years since The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed and I sang "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" together,ending with his spinning me around in his arms, bending me over backwards, staring into my eyes like Svengali, and changing me forever. It has been a long and painful journey, but I would never want to go back. In that moment I changed from a rather stuffy middle-aged woman, who had once sung opera, once been sensual and passionate, and now worked in a corporate job, wore suits that were two sizes too big, and had recently begun attending church, to someone who wanted to sing and embrace life with passion more than anything else in the world, even if it meant burning every bridge I'd ever walked over. I found God in that church, and my voice after more than two decades, but I also found passion that was painfully unrequited, a mentor who gave me my voice but tore me to shreds, and, later, my voice as a playwright, a new voice teacher (actually my old one from the 1970s), and a new church to sing in where I loved the music and was welcomed with nothing but love and respect despite my skepticism about their theology.
In 2008 I got to sing Dalila with a real Samson and now am a bona fide dramatic mezzo working on Amneris and Azucena (although God knows where I'll get to sing that material!)
Every Valentine's Day I ponder my pre-2/15/04 self, and wonder if I would be happier if I could turn the clock back and have things as they were. I don't think so.
Now I am off to have a nice lunch with my partner at La Petit Auberge, a charming French restaurant barely ten paces from her apartment, where we can always eat without worrying about getting her there. Old fashioned and charming. My pre-2/15/04 self would have been happy to do that, and I will be too!
But as my life, for good or ill, changed forever on February 15, 2004, in ways that I both can and can't write about in a public blog, I began rooting around my pseudonymous posts for something profound to say about that day, and about how far I've come.
It has been 7 years since The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed and I sang "Mon Coeur S'Ouvre a ta Voix" together,ending with his spinning me around in his arms, bending me over backwards, staring into my eyes like Svengali, and changing me forever. It has been a long and painful journey, but I would never want to go back. In that moment I changed from a rather stuffy middle-aged woman, who had once sung opera, once been sensual and passionate, and now worked in a corporate job, wore suits that were two sizes too big, and had recently begun attending church, to someone who wanted to sing and embrace life with passion more than anything else in the world, even if it meant burning every bridge I'd ever walked over. I found God in that church, and my voice after more than two decades, but I also found passion that was painfully unrequited, a mentor who gave me my voice but tore me to shreds, and, later, my voice as a playwright, a new voice teacher (actually my old one from the 1970s), and a new church to sing in where I loved the music and was welcomed with nothing but love and respect despite my skepticism about their theology.
In 2008 I got to sing Dalila with a real Samson and now am a bona fide dramatic mezzo working on Amneris and Azucena (although God knows where I'll get to sing that material!)
Every Valentine's Day I ponder my pre-2/15/04 self, and wonder if I would be happier if I could turn the clock back and have things as they were. I don't think so.
Now I am off to have a nice lunch with my partner at La Petit Auberge, a charming French restaurant barely ten paces from her apartment, where we can always eat without worrying about getting her there. Old fashioned and charming. My pre-2/15/04 self would have been happy to do that, and I will be too!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Quickie Post
I have about five minutes before I have to get dressed to leave, so why not write something? (The more I write, the more I'll be read, and the more I'm read, the more I'll be known.)
I watched Boris Godunov on tv last night. I haven't been to a live opera in over a year (money is tight, and I'd rather spend it on my voice lessons), and I stopped listening to the broadcasts when they changed the station. The reception is too poor to enjoy listening now.
I had never seen Boris before and it was quite a spectacle. I was interested in listening to/watching Marina, as this is a great mezzo role, albeit a small one. She is, of course, everything that I craved about opera and singing: sexy, mean, vain, passionate, a diva, with big hair. The music is less than memorable but my tastes tend to run to the oompah (a friend's disparaging catch-all put-down for Verdi and his immediate predecessors).
Patricia Racette was the host and seeing her got me back on a train of thought that I just can't let go of, namely, how different it is being a Lesbian who wants to sing opera now from what it was like when I was young, and I'm speaking of both sides of the equation. By "both sides", I mean Lesbians singing opera, most notably in romantic leads, are no longer considered outre, being out is acceptable, being out a looking like a lovely woman is acceptable, and being out and not being obsessed with deconstructing what it means to be a Lesbian is also just fine and dandy. And I think it's possible now to be a Lesbian singing opera, and have Lesbian friends, even a "community", who won't disparage you for participating in a "patriarchal" art form, or even for playing a love scene with (goddess strike me dead!) a non-woman!!
I was thinking about this again because (sounds like a non sequitur) I dropped out for all intents and purposes of the LGBT caregiving group I'd been going to. Ido need to talk about caregiving issues, but conversations there (especially with the women) always seem to deterioriate into aforementioned deconstruction, which just sends me into a blinding rage. One woman mentioned in passing that she didn't want to attend meetings (of another group) if there were any bisexual women there (which is how I now define myself) and I just wanted to tear my hair out. Not because I took it personally but because I am so sick and tired and then some of the Lesbian verion of fundamentalism. Really, if I wanted that sort of thing I'd become an Orthodox Jew or join the Assembly of God.
In other news, I think the portamento is working in "Condotta". I also dusted off the Mozart "Laudate Dominum" which has to be sung almost entirely pianissimo and has quite a few "high" Fs. This I can do, I just need to get in the groove. Actually, I don't know if I'll be singing it on May 22 - the choir director was annoyed that the other soloist took it upon herself to assign music for that service, on the other hand he had no objections to my singing the piece itself.
And for Ash Wednesday I'm back in the soprano section singing something with numerous Fs. This I can do, again, I just have to sing it into my voice.
I watched Boris Godunov on tv last night. I haven't been to a live opera in over a year (money is tight, and I'd rather spend it on my voice lessons), and I stopped listening to the broadcasts when they changed the station. The reception is too poor to enjoy listening now.
I had never seen Boris before and it was quite a spectacle. I was interested in listening to/watching Marina, as this is a great mezzo role, albeit a small one. She is, of course, everything that I craved about opera and singing: sexy, mean, vain, passionate, a diva, with big hair. The music is less than memorable but my tastes tend to run to the oompah (a friend's disparaging catch-all put-down for Verdi and his immediate predecessors).
Patricia Racette was the host and seeing her got me back on a train of thought that I just can't let go of, namely, how different it is being a Lesbian who wants to sing opera now from what it was like when I was young, and I'm speaking of both sides of the equation. By "both sides", I mean Lesbians singing opera, most notably in romantic leads, are no longer considered outre, being out is acceptable, being out a looking like a lovely woman is acceptable, and being out and not being obsessed with deconstructing what it means to be a Lesbian is also just fine and dandy. And I think it's possible now to be a Lesbian singing opera, and have Lesbian friends, even a "community", who won't disparage you for participating in a "patriarchal" art form, or even for playing a love scene with (goddess strike me dead!) a non-woman!!
I was thinking about this again because (sounds like a non sequitur) I dropped out for all intents and purposes of the LGBT caregiving group I'd been going to. Ido need to talk about caregiving issues, but conversations there (especially with the women) always seem to deterioriate into aforementioned deconstruction, which just sends me into a blinding rage. One woman mentioned in passing that she didn't want to attend meetings (of another group) if there were any bisexual women there (which is how I now define myself) and I just wanted to tear my hair out. Not because I took it personally but because I am so sick and tired and then some of the Lesbian verion of fundamentalism. Really, if I wanted that sort of thing I'd become an Orthodox Jew or join the Assembly of God.
In other news, I think the portamento is working in "Condotta". I also dusted off the Mozart "Laudate Dominum" which has to be sung almost entirely pianissimo and has quite a few "high" Fs. This I can do, I just need to get in the groove. Actually, I don't know if I'll be singing it on May 22 - the choir director was annoyed that the other soloist took it upon herself to assign music for that service, on the other hand he had no objections to my singing the piece itself.
And for Ash Wednesday I'm back in the soprano section singing something with numerous Fs. This I can do, again, I just have to sing it into my voice.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Turned A Corner?
I'm about to start my workday and thought I would post something first.
I think I am beginning to move in the direction of coming out of the funk I've been in since the Carmelites incident. It wasn't enough to stop me from singing or from singing well, but it was enough to stop me from taking myself seriously as a singer - aka making plans.
That and feeling totally overshadowed by the young woman in the choir with the very high, well trained voice, not to mention a conservatory degree. (On the other hand, mezzos are always overshadowed by high sopranos. It goes with the territory.)
I was starting to feel a little better when I began collecting some Bach pieces to sing with the violinist (who definitely takes me seriously) but then my spirits tanked again when I started working on Azucena and saw that there was a bloody high C actually written in the score!
Well, it turns out that Mignon Dunn, at least, doesn't sing it.
When I bought a score at the Juilliard Store, I also bought a cheap recording with Dunn as Azucena. She goes up to an A and back in that run, that's it.
The Condotta is going well if I don't panic. I've scrapped the idea of singing "Va" on the B flat and instead will try to use my teacher's trusty portamento technique. Singing "bruciaaaaato" on an A is easy. Then the tenor sings an A (OK - I probably won't have a tenor most times I'm singing this but I can hear it in my ear). So when I go for the scream, the trick is to start to sing an A (easy) and then just sort of slide up. There's one other B flat at the very end of the opera, which I won't be singing unless I actually sing the entire role, but that's in the middle of a phrase, which I've never had trouble with.
On another note, I got an email out of the blue from one of the other soloists about singing at a special service at the Lutheran church on May 22 when they will be rededicating their magnificent Tiffany windows (which had been repaired). Several years ago they had a concert series to raise money for this effort, which is how I got to put on my concert version of Samson et Dalila. The woman who emailed me had coordinated the concert series and thought it would be nice for me to sing at the rededication, as I had been a major player in the campaign. I would really love to do that. The choir will be singing the anthem, so I volunteered to sing Mozart's "Laudate Dominum" at Communion, which would fit in with the theme.
I really hope this lights a fire under me. (OOPS! If I'm thinking about Azucena that's not funny.)
Anyhow, I need to get motivated again.
I think I am beginning to move in the direction of coming out of the funk I've been in since the Carmelites incident. It wasn't enough to stop me from singing or from singing well, but it was enough to stop me from taking myself seriously as a singer - aka making plans.
That and feeling totally overshadowed by the young woman in the choir with the very high, well trained voice, not to mention a conservatory degree. (On the other hand, mezzos are always overshadowed by high sopranos. It goes with the territory.)
I was starting to feel a little better when I began collecting some Bach pieces to sing with the violinist (who definitely takes me seriously) but then my spirits tanked again when I started working on Azucena and saw that there was a bloody high C actually written in the score!
Well, it turns out that Mignon Dunn, at least, doesn't sing it.
When I bought a score at the Juilliard Store, I also bought a cheap recording with Dunn as Azucena. She goes up to an A and back in that run, that's it.
The Condotta is going well if I don't panic. I've scrapped the idea of singing "Va" on the B flat and instead will try to use my teacher's trusty portamento technique. Singing "bruciaaaaato" on an A is easy. Then the tenor sings an A (OK - I probably won't have a tenor most times I'm singing this but I can hear it in my ear). So when I go for the scream, the trick is to start to sing an A (easy) and then just sort of slide up. There's one other B flat at the very end of the opera, which I won't be singing unless I actually sing the entire role, but that's in the middle of a phrase, which I've never had trouble with.
On another note, I got an email out of the blue from one of the other soloists about singing at a special service at the Lutheran church on May 22 when they will be rededicating their magnificent Tiffany windows (which had been repaired). Several years ago they had a concert series to raise money for this effort, which is how I got to put on my concert version of Samson et Dalila. The woman who emailed me had coordinated the concert series and thought it would be nice for me to sing at the rededication, as I had been a major player in the campaign. I would really love to do that. The choir will be singing the anthem, so I volunteered to sing Mozart's "Laudate Dominum" at Communion, which would fit in with the theme.
I really hope this lights a fire under me. (OOPS! If I'm thinking about Azucena that's not funny.)
Anyhow, I need to get motivated again.
Friday, February 4, 2011
An Old Gypsy Throws Down the Gauntlet
Ever since two coaches told me I was a dramatic mezzo (my teacher is still on the fence about that - he says I can sing dramatic rep because I have a dramatic temperament but not in a big house over an orchestra), and ever since I turned 60, I've had my eye on Azucena.
If you're an old lady, and there's a great role for an old lady, it's like, hey, you should go for it.
Now that, thanks to the new exercises I've been doing, I really can pluck a B flat out of the air (although to date only if I put a "V" in front of it), I can get through the famous "Condotta ellera in ceppi".
I am now doubly motivated because one of the "real" singers I met at my Tuesday night group coachings said she sometimes needs people to sing through whole operas with her at her private coachings, when she's preparing a role for performance. And right now she's working on Trovatore.
So I borrowed the score from my teacher, blithely thinking the highest note I'd have to sing is a B flat, which I really do have, now.
And then OMGOMG, I got to p. 84 of the Schirmer score and found a run, not optional, but actually written in the bloody score, on the word "spremi" that goes up to a High A, down to a "middle" D and then up to a High C and down again. Twenty-one notes and the bloody C is the seventh!! And the interval is a seventh, as well, not easy to hear or to sing under the best of circumstances, let alone trying to reach the highest note I'd ever been able to phonate anything on since I was 14, before my occasional furtive cigarette had become a two pack a day habit (for the record, I haven't smoked a cigarette since 1982).
So does this mean the old gypsy is out of reach, along with Eboli (who has to sing an exposed C flat) and most of the Donizetti ladies? (I feel comfortable telling people I sing Amneris because I can sing everything except the bloody triumphal scene as written, which my teacher assures me it's acceptable to "cheat" in and sing a lot of it an octave lower because who will hear it?)
Not so fast. First I'm going to get a recording and listen to it. I'll look for one with a mezzo with a lowish voice and see if she sings that ornament. And I'll ask my teacher what he thinks. I actually did sing a High C in public in 2005 when The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed bullied me into singing a duet from La Sonnambula of all things with him. It's not even a real mezzo role although he had told me Bartoli had sung that duet. But that C was part of a roulade, and didn't need to be reached from a note much lower.
It's just so depressing. Why I can't get a handle on those last few notes.
I keep thinking I can be happy as a Bach "alto/sop 2", never having to sing above an F and impressing people with my breath control, vocal agility, and style, but I keep wanting more.
Well, at least I can put "Condotta" in my concert rep. Just for now, it will sound like I'm telling Manrico to leave (LOL!).
If you're an old lady, and there's a great role for an old lady, it's like, hey, you should go for it.
Now that, thanks to the new exercises I've been doing, I really can pluck a B flat out of the air (although to date only if I put a "V" in front of it), I can get through the famous "Condotta ellera in ceppi".
I am now doubly motivated because one of the "real" singers I met at my Tuesday night group coachings said she sometimes needs people to sing through whole operas with her at her private coachings, when she's preparing a role for performance. And right now she's working on Trovatore.
So I borrowed the score from my teacher, blithely thinking the highest note I'd have to sing is a B flat, which I really do have, now.
And then OMGOMG, I got to p. 84 of the Schirmer score and found a run, not optional, but actually written in the bloody score, on the word "spremi" that goes up to a High A, down to a "middle" D and then up to a High C and down again. Twenty-one notes and the bloody C is the seventh!! And the interval is a seventh, as well, not easy to hear or to sing under the best of circumstances, let alone trying to reach the highest note I'd ever been able to phonate anything on since I was 14, before my occasional furtive cigarette had become a two pack a day habit (for the record, I haven't smoked a cigarette since 1982).
So does this mean the old gypsy is out of reach, along with Eboli (who has to sing an exposed C flat) and most of the Donizetti ladies? (I feel comfortable telling people I sing Amneris because I can sing everything except the bloody triumphal scene as written, which my teacher assures me it's acceptable to "cheat" in and sing a lot of it an octave lower because who will hear it?)
Not so fast. First I'm going to get a recording and listen to it. I'll look for one with a mezzo with a lowish voice and see if she sings that ornament. And I'll ask my teacher what he thinks. I actually did sing a High C in public in 2005 when The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed bullied me into singing a duet from La Sonnambula of all things with him. It's not even a real mezzo role although he had told me Bartoli had sung that duet. But that C was part of a roulade, and didn't need to be reached from a note much lower.
It's just so depressing. Why I can't get a handle on those last few notes.
I keep thinking I can be happy as a Bach "alto/sop 2", never having to sing above an F and impressing people with my breath control, vocal agility, and style, but I keep wanting more.
Well, at least I can put "Condotta" in my concert rep. Just for now, it will sound like I'm telling Manrico to leave (LOL!).
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