I am about to dress for Pilates class, so there's no point in working and I have some thoughts from yesterday that I want to put on "paper".
Yesterday the choir director and several other professional musicians from the church led a discussion about the presence of God in music. A number of people from the choir attended, as did I, even though our choir wasn't singing.
One of the topics that got discussed was being an avocational musician versus a professional one. One man (another choral conductor) said that the advantage of being an avocational musician was that you didn't have to do anything musically that you didn't want to do. I can certainly see the advantage of that. I have never been particularly bothered by the fact that I don't make money singing; in fact, when I was singing the first time, my idols were women who were big stars on the avocational singing circuit and got to sing plum roles in small productions two or three times a year and then go about their lives with jobs, family, etc. There are still people doing that, but of course the bar is much higher now and they all not only sound as good as the professionals but also have conservatory degrees.
For me the problems of being an avocational musician are twofold. First, I always have to justify why I'm spending time and money on this. Part of this, of course, is that when I began singing again I already had a life and needed to squeeze singing into it. As many people know, my need to recapture the feeling from that Valentine's Day was so strong that I was willing to orchestrate a breakup with my partner so that I could have a new life, but in 2007 she had a hip replacement and I realized that I needed to care for her, and one thing led to another. I still don't think of us as a "couple", but she is my significant other and in that vein we check in with each other about what we've planned for the day/week/month, etc. and she feels, rightly or wrongly, that she has a vested interest in how I spend my time and money.
The second issue with being an avocational singer is that other people (aka other singers) don't take me seriously. When they find out, for example, that my church gig is unpaid, I can hear a bit of contempt in their voices. (That would not be true if I had been cast in someone else's production of an opera and were singing for free.)
There was a Q and A session and so I asked the choir director and his wife, a cellist, both of whom are quite young and have up and coming careers, if it had been hard for them as young people to take care of themselves the way one needed to to have a career as a musician. I know in my heart of hearts that one big reason I gave up singing at 30 (in addition to not making money, wanting to go to college at night - it never occurred to me to major in music - and being in a Lesbian separatist milieu that did not encourage pursuing a "patriarchal" art form) was that I found it onerous to take care of myself. I had quit smoking but resented it (and after I stopped singing I went back to smoking for another two years), was continually starving myself to keep my weight under 130 pounds (I was five foot six), and wanted to party until all hours. When I went back to singing in my 50s I had long since finished with all those things and was in top physical shape.
In other news, I asked the choral conductor I mentioned if I needed a conductor as well as a pianist for the Requiem and he said no, if I trusted the pianist we could look to her for cues (this is what we did for Samson et Dalila).
And on a final note: when I got home I worked on the "Lacrymosa" measure by measure again and found that I was able to sing the first two of the difficult pages with the recording. And I woke up humming my part, despite it's not being conventionally melodic!
Monday, May 28, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Insights and Reality Checks
I hadn't planned on writing something again so soon, but this post is prompted by a lot of soul searching I did last night and this morning, triggered by a health scare my partner is having.
I also keep coming back to: what do I want and what do I expect out of my involvement with singing? (This is an endless topic of discussion with the therapist, despite that my manifest reason for having been in therapy all these years is the stress of eldercare and the knowledge that at any moment I could be in the middle of an enormous psychological and logistical crisis.)
After that fateful Valentine's Day, all I really wanted was to take that feeling and bottle it. The rush of singing an aria associated with sex and glamour, in the arms of an ersatz (oh, how ersatz!) lover, in front of an "audience" for whom this was the unexpected highlight of an event. This was quickly followed by my "Habanera" at another dinner fundraiser, and several other arias during church services and fundraising concerts. This was a tiny venue, the tiniest and most talent-poor of Manhattan churches, certainly in the area of classical singing, but what it lacked in human resources it made up for in imagination.
Then it all fell apart. Not only did my relationship with the Mentor disintegrate, but the church decided to do away with classical music for the most part, except for a brief nod at Easter and Christmas, and the minister (truly the one of the least empathic, albeit one of the brainiest, people I have ever met) hadn't a clue about (or an interest in) helping me continue to develop myself as a musician in that environment. She preferred to have me on the Board helping her hire and fire people, which is what I had been doing for a living.
At that time I didn't know any real singers.
That started later. After I left that church (and the Mentor) I began pseudonymously blogging and fell into some "communities" to do with classical singing. Naively thinking I would meet some people like me (amateurs at a loss how to deal with a talent and a hunger) I actually met working singers. It actually came as a huge surprise that these sorts of people would even bother with pseudonymous blogging, which I thought was predominately for the bored and the unhappy, but blog they did. One woman, who sings extensively throughout Europe, even shared juicy details about her sex life!
That was when all the "envies" began.
Soon I began also investigating all the "opportunities" for singers in my hometown (central Manhattan) and was astounded by the mass of talented people, most of them 20 or 30 years younger than I was, who were all jockeying for spots not only at amateur groups, but even at groups where you had to pay to sing.
I was totally out of my element, not just vocally, but in every possible way. I had no education, no CV, not much mobility (while in a physically weakened state pining for the Mentor, I stumbled over the pavement in a strange city and smashed up my left leg), no confidence, and last but not least, some vocal issues to work out. I couldn't even elicit much interest at the group get up and sing things that I went to.
So recapturing that Valentine's Day moment seemed beyond elusive.
I did manage to put on a concert version of Samson et Dalila, and sang my personal best that day, but I didn't get the sense that the church (I was now a choir member/soloist at a Lutheran church) would let me put on a sequel. And speaking of the church, although I felt and still feel blessed to have many solo opportunities (as well as opportunities to improve my musicianship through choral singing) there, it is not a venue for the sort of pastiche events where I could dress to the nines and sing an aria as part of a group "talent show". They are very formal.
After being raked over the coals by readers of my pseudonymous blog , I deleted it and decided to back off some of my voyeurism re: other singers. They are not a peer group.
I think the issue with pointless comparisons, which I only really just realized, isn't that there's a limit to how well I can sing (although there might be) or anything stopping me from producing any work I want to sing in, it's a question of "ages and stages". And I'm not talking about being "too old" to have the stamina to sing Verdi (I have much more stamina for singing on the eve of my 62nd birthday than I did when I met the Mentor or even when I sang Dalila in concert) or of being "too old" to play a sexy character (God knows I have a better figure than many 40-year-olds) but that my life is not structured the way a 20something, 30something, or 40something's life is structured. And I'm speaking here of women who are childless. Once you become a mother, and even moreso if you're a single mother, things get complicated and choices have to be made.
However problematic our relationship is, and friends with benefits notwithstanding, my partner is the most important person in my life. And she is at the end of hers (not necessarily at the very end, we are waiting for test results) and I want to make it as joyful as possible. And for the foreseeable future I have to earn a living. The younger people I am so envious of are either earning money singing and teaching, or they work at day jobs and use all their free time running here, there, and yonder to rehearsals and auditions. Some of them probably don't spend more than one evening a week - if that - at home. I may have plenty of energy to sing a scene from Il Trovatore, but I don't have that kind of energy, which is why I would refuse any comprimaria role I was offered for no money that involved a heavy rehearsal schedule.
So I come back to "what do I want" and "what is possible"? Although my teacher doubts I will ever be able to sing above a B flat in public, that still leaves a lot of opera and oratorio, particularly if I cherry pick scenes that I want to sing from the former, for me to sing. And until I'm proven wrong, there is no limit on the extent to which my singing can improve. But there are limits to my time and money. And the point may come when I have to choose between ancillary singing expenses and rehearsal time on the one hand and having that last shared vacation on the other. But for now I won't go there.
I asked God to bless my Verdi Requiem project and that's all I can do.
I also keep coming back to: what do I want and what do I expect out of my involvement with singing? (This is an endless topic of discussion with the therapist, despite that my manifest reason for having been in therapy all these years is the stress of eldercare and the knowledge that at any moment I could be in the middle of an enormous psychological and logistical crisis.)
After that fateful Valentine's Day, all I really wanted was to take that feeling and bottle it. The rush of singing an aria associated with sex and glamour, in the arms of an ersatz (oh, how ersatz!) lover, in front of an "audience" for whom this was the unexpected highlight of an event. This was quickly followed by my "Habanera" at another dinner fundraiser, and several other arias during church services and fundraising concerts. This was a tiny venue, the tiniest and most talent-poor of Manhattan churches, certainly in the area of classical singing, but what it lacked in human resources it made up for in imagination.
Then it all fell apart. Not only did my relationship with the Mentor disintegrate, but the church decided to do away with classical music for the most part, except for a brief nod at Easter and Christmas, and the minister (truly the one of the least empathic, albeit one of the brainiest, people I have ever met) hadn't a clue about (or an interest in) helping me continue to develop myself as a musician in that environment. She preferred to have me on the Board helping her hire and fire people, which is what I had been doing for a living.
At that time I didn't know any real singers.
That started later. After I left that church (and the Mentor) I began pseudonymously blogging and fell into some "communities" to do with classical singing. Naively thinking I would meet some people like me (amateurs at a loss how to deal with a talent and a hunger) I actually met working singers. It actually came as a huge surprise that these sorts of people would even bother with pseudonymous blogging, which I thought was predominately for the bored and the unhappy, but blog they did. One woman, who sings extensively throughout Europe, even shared juicy details about her sex life!
That was when all the "envies" began.
Soon I began also investigating all the "opportunities" for singers in my hometown (central Manhattan) and was astounded by the mass of talented people, most of them 20 or 30 years younger than I was, who were all jockeying for spots not only at amateur groups, but even at groups where you had to pay to sing.
I was totally out of my element, not just vocally, but in every possible way. I had no education, no CV, not much mobility (while in a physically weakened state pining for the Mentor, I stumbled over the pavement in a strange city and smashed up my left leg), no confidence, and last but not least, some vocal issues to work out. I couldn't even elicit much interest at the group get up and sing things that I went to.
So recapturing that Valentine's Day moment seemed beyond elusive.
I did manage to put on a concert version of Samson et Dalila, and sang my personal best that day, but I didn't get the sense that the church (I was now a choir member/soloist at a Lutheran church) would let me put on a sequel. And speaking of the church, although I felt and still feel blessed to have many solo opportunities (as well as opportunities to improve my musicianship through choral singing) there, it is not a venue for the sort of pastiche events where I could dress to the nines and sing an aria as part of a group "talent show". They are very formal.
After being raked over the coals by readers of my pseudonymous blog , I deleted it and decided to back off some of my voyeurism re: other singers. They are not a peer group.
I think the issue with pointless comparisons, which I only really just realized, isn't that there's a limit to how well I can sing (although there might be) or anything stopping me from producing any work I want to sing in, it's a question of "ages and stages". And I'm not talking about being "too old" to have the stamina to sing Verdi (I have much more stamina for singing on the eve of my 62nd birthday than I did when I met the Mentor or even when I sang Dalila in concert) or of being "too old" to play a sexy character (God knows I have a better figure than many 40-year-olds) but that my life is not structured the way a 20something, 30something, or 40something's life is structured. And I'm speaking here of women who are childless. Once you become a mother, and even moreso if you're a single mother, things get complicated and choices have to be made.
However problematic our relationship is, and friends with benefits notwithstanding, my partner is the most important person in my life. And she is at the end of hers (not necessarily at the very end, we are waiting for test results) and I want to make it as joyful as possible. And for the foreseeable future I have to earn a living. The younger people I am so envious of are either earning money singing and teaching, or they work at day jobs and use all their free time running here, there, and yonder to rehearsals and auditions. Some of them probably don't spend more than one evening a week - if that - at home. I may have plenty of energy to sing a scene from Il Trovatore, but I don't have that kind of energy, which is why I would refuse any comprimaria role I was offered for no money that involved a heavy rehearsal schedule.
So I come back to "what do I want" and "what is possible"? Although my teacher doubts I will ever be able to sing above a B flat in public, that still leaves a lot of opera and oratorio, particularly if I cherry pick scenes that I want to sing from the former, for me to sing. And until I'm proven wrong, there is no limit on the extent to which my singing can improve. But there are limits to my time and money. And the point may come when I have to choose between ancillary singing expenses and rehearsal time on the one hand and having that last shared vacation on the other. But for now I won't go there.
I asked God to bless my Verdi Requiem project and that's all I can do.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
It's Not Just Vocal
I have spent the major part of the past 8 years working on my vocal technique (no mean feat with a voice the size of mine, beginning again in my 50s after a 23 year hiatus) but of course there are other aspects to being a singer, many of which I have sorely neglected.
These are the things that young conservatory students work on while their voices are incubating and they can't really handle much except simple art songs or the "yellow book" (AKA "24 Italian Songs and Arias").
There's the dreaded solfege, which enables you to sightread. And music theory, which helps you understand key signature and chord structure. And languages.
My French is quite good - at one time I could not only sing in French but also read quite advanced material (e.g. Madame Bovary). In any event when I sing in French I know what I'm singing and my pronunciation is excellent. And I know Italian because I spent years looking at opera libretti - and because I know French. German is another story. I would really like to study German. We sing a lot in German at this Lutheran church and also I know in my heart of hearts that my days singing grand opera are numbered (except in small doses) and that my forever repertoire will probably be the Bach alto and soprano 2 solos, many of which are in German. I suggested to someone at the church that it might be nice if we had German classes there, so who knows? Maybe I planted a seed. I certainly can't afford to take a class. Living on basically half a salary and partially supporting another person I can just about pay for my voice lessons (and with the Requiem coming up I will have to pay the pianist, not just for the performance but for regular rehearsals for several months).
I think this is on my mind now because I was sailing along with the Requiem and suddenly I got to the "Lacrymosa" and hit a brick wall. It's not hard to sing, but not only is it full of accidentals but also there's a whole section where the soprano is singing on the off beats (probably not the correct expression) and I and the men are singing a melody. You'd think that this being true I would have an easy time of it, but when I tried to sing with the recording I got completely lost. It's particularly hard because the soprano is singing very high and I am singing very low. But I refuse to be defeated. I need to find a way to conquer this before rehearsals start, because even if I work alone with the coach, it won't help because she isn't going to be singing high B flats! So I took up the score and marked up those two pages with a ruler, with every beat and half beat drawing a line from the soprano line to my line. And today I sang through each measure very slowly playing her part and singing my part. So I just have to trust that my ear will never fail me. If I hear it enough, in whatever format, I will learn it. The other problem is that the recording is not in strict tempo, nor should this piece be. I never have any problem learning Bach alto parts, because Bach is in strict time. So if I count and sing, I can keep my place against the recording. Which reminds me. Someone suggested that I get a conductor as well as a pianist. Well, I certainly can't afford to pay one. There is a man at church who is a choral conductor. I might ask him first, if I need a conductor, and second, if he would be willing to do it for free. He might be willing to as a fundraiser for the church and also to get experience with this piece.
These are the things that young conservatory students work on while their voices are incubating and they can't really handle much except simple art songs or the "yellow book" (AKA "24 Italian Songs and Arias").
There's the dreaded solfege, which enables you to sightread. And music theory, which helps you understand key signature and chord structure. And languages.
My French is quite good - at one time I could not only sing in French but also read quite advanced material (e.g. Madame Bovary). In any event when I sing in French I know what I'm singing and my pronunciation is excellent. And I know Italian because I spent years looking at opera libretti - and because I know French. German is another story. I would really like to study German. We sing a lot in German at this Lutheran church and also I know in my heart of hearts that my days singing grand opera are numbered (except in small doses) and that my forever repertoire will probably be the Bach alto and soprano 2 solos, many of which are in German. I suggested to someone at the church that it might be nice if we had German classes there, so who knows? Maybe I planted a seed. I certainly can't afford to take a class. Living on basically half a salary and partially supporting another person I can just about pay for my voice lessons (and with the Requiem coming up I will have to pay the pianist, not just for the performance but for regular rehearsals for several months).
I think this is on my mind now because I was sailing along with the Requiem and suddenly I got to the "Lacrymosa" and hit a brick wall. It's not hard to sing, but not only is it full of accidentals but also there's a whole section where the soprano is singing on the off beats (probably not the correct expression) and I and the men are singing a melody. You'd think that this being true I would have an easy time of it, but when I tried to sing with the recording I got completely lost. It's particularly hard because the soprano is singing very high and I am singing very low. But I refuse to be defeated. I need to find a way to conquer this before rehearsals start, because even if I work alone with the coach, it won't help because she isn't going to be singing high B flats! So I took up the score and marked up those two pages with a ruler, with every beat and half beat drawing a line from the soprano line to my line. And today I sang through each measure very slowly playing her part and singing my part. So I just have to trust that my ear will never fail me. If I hear it enough, in whatever format, I will learn it. The other problem is that the recording is not in strict tempo, nor should this piece be. I never have any problem learning Bach alto parts, because Bach is in strict time. So if I count and sing, I can keep my place against the recording. Which reminds me. Someone suggested that I get a conductor as well as a pianist. Well, I certainly can't afford to pay one. There is a man at church who is a choral conductor. I might ask him first, if I need a conductor, and second, if he would be willing to do it for free. He might be willing to as a fundraiser for the church and also to get experience with this piece.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Alleluia! It's Over
I don't have time to write much, but I realized that I hadn't let readers know how I made out with Alleluia. It went amazingly well. I was able to sing the first high A in a light head voice that I had never been able to carry up that high before (A flat had always been the limit, at least recently since my voice has gotten so much bigger - or rather since its real size has been unveiled) and, thanks to the paucity of sopranos and the large number of people on the lower parts, I was able to sing the stringendo section in the middle (with the two high A naturals) full voice. I didn't sing the two measures leading up to the two high As but I am not apologizing. If it had been a mezzo aria (e.g. something by Donizetti) there would have been a tradition in place to be silent, even if notes were written.
So now it's back to other things.
I sang through the Saint Saens piece, which is very easy to sing; the point for me is to be secure in relation to what I am doing in relation to the accompaniment. I could not find the piece on You Tube, and as a primarily auditory learner I am always nervous about trying to sing something I haven't heard, but plunking the accompaniment on the keyboard will have to be good enough.
Then I went back to the Requiem. Singing "Liber Scriptus" feels easier. And really, the only thing in the entire Requiem that I am at all nervous about is that big climactic A flat in "Liber Scriptus". Now that I have changed where I am breathing in the a capella section of "Lux Aeterna" (that goes up to a G) I find that very easy to sing (it's just like singing soprano with the choir) and everything else is in a very easy range. I might not be heard in the lowest sections of "Recordare" but that only involves three or four measures.
I was also pleasantly surprised at how well I am making out singing against the recording (or rather, against the soprano; anything else is no problem). That is one huge benefit I have gotten out of five years singing with this choir. Being one of three (sometimes only one of two or only one of one) second sopranos on numerous occasions has helped train my ear to hear harmonies and improved my skills in that area dramatically.
And I'm really hoping I have made a vocal breakthrough. I think when I started studying with this teacher (or re-started, rather) I was not using my whole voice, I was using the voice I had had in the 70s when I was singing roles like Cherubino. Then when I began singing with my whole voice it felt like it had a lot of weight to it and I had trouble with higher notes (I mean I had always had trouble with anything higher than an A but As themselves had always been easy). Now I'm hoping that has passed and that I am able to sing lightly with my new larger voice (if that makes sense). Some people think it's odd for me as a mezzo to like singing soprano in a choir (well, I don't really have a choice as there are 7 ot 8 altos and only four other sopranos) but I find that it helps keep me technically on my toes and has done worlds for my ability to sing a real pianissimo in my upper range.
So now it's back to other things.
I sang through the Saint Saens piece, which is very easy to sing; the point for me is to be secure in relation to what I am doing in relation to the accompaniment. I could not find the piece on You Tube, and as a primarily auditory learner I am always nervous about trying to sing something I haven't heard, but plunking the accompaniment on the keyboard will have to be good enough.
Then I went back to the Requiem. Singing "Liber Scriptus" feels easier. And really, the only thing in the entire Requiem that I am at all nervous about is that big climactic A flat in "Liber Scriptus". Now that I have changed where I am breathing in the a capella section of "Lux Aeterna" (that goes up to a G) I find that very easy to sing (it's just like singing soprano with the choir) and everything else is in a very easy range. I might not be heard in the lowest sections of "Recordare" but that only involves three or four measures.
I was also pleasantly surprised at how well I am making out singing against the recording (or rather, against the soprano; anything else is no problem). That is one huge benefit I have gotten out of five years singing with this choir. Being one of three (sometimes only one of two or only one of one) second sopranos on numerous occasions has helped train my ear to hear harmonies and improved my skills in that area dramatically.
And I'm really hoping I have made a vocal breakthrough. I think when I started studying with this teacher (or re-started, rather) I was not using my whole voice, I was using the voice I had had in the 70s when I was singing roles like Cherubino. Then when I began singing with my whole voice it felt like it had a lot of weight to it and I had trouble with higher notes (I mean I had always had trouble with anything higher than an A but As themselves had always been easy). Now I'm hoping that has passed and that I am able to sing lightly with my new larger voice (if that makes sense). Some people think it's odd for me as a mezzo to like singing soprano in a choir (well, I don't really have a choice as there are 7 ot 8 altos and only four other sopranos) but I find that it helps keep me technically on my toes and has done worlds for my ability to sing a real pianissimo in my upper range.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Alleluia Take 2
First, note to self: remember to quickly go into "compose" mode to make the paragraph breaks. With the new blogger, double "enter" doesn't work.
I had a lesson yesterday and my teacher told me that indeed my problems during that dreadful practice session had been caused by my overdoing singing "oo" with a smile. He said I should only do that as an exercise, which helps place my voice properly, but that I should not do that when I am singing. Using the relaxed "o" position and sometimes imagining I am drinking the sound in with a small mouth seems to help. During the rehearsal I was able to sing the difficult passages numerous times with minimal mishap. I didn't sing as well at the very end when he asked us to sing the piece through (after rehearsing other things) but I didn't disgrace myself. There are several passages I don't sing, which is noticeable, because even singing softly my voice has a different timbre from other people's, but that's tough nuggies.
He also mentioned a "Music Sunday" (not a church holiday) and asked for volunteers for solos. I asked about singing the "Laudamus te" from the Bach B Minor Mass again and he said he thought it was too long, so I suggested the Saint Saens piece "Thou O Lord Art My Redeemer". I gave him the music and he said he would take a look at it. He also said he might want to give opportunities to people who don't usually sing solos. If you only look at individual solos, I probably sing more than most people, on the other hand this is no longer true if you count solo sections from choral pieces, which I rarely sing, because except in Bach and Mozart, where there are solos for each voice part, most of the choral pieces have solos for high sopranos, high tenors, or low basses, but rarely for midrange and lower women's voices. But I would not be offended if he gave the solo spots to other people as long as they were from our choir and not "professionals" brought in from outside.
I also mentioned singing "Qui Sedes" (also from the B Minor Mass) during the summer. I told him I had the oboe music as well. He said he didn't know if he could get an oboist, but maybe I can sing it just with him on the organ.
On another subject, my hairdresser came to my house a few days ago to give me a perm. I am not crazy about it because she cut my hair too short and it didn't really curl enough, but I got a lot of compliments on it yesterday. She also brought her new Ipad and took a series of photos, which I like. I am posting the best ones here.
Not only am I determined to hold my own against the "real" singers when they talk about singing, I am also determined to hold my own against them in posting my own glam shots, when I can find people to take them.
Not bad for someone who will be eligible to collect Social Security in a little over two months!
I had a lesson yesterday and my teacher told me that indeed my problems during that dreadful practice session had been caused by my overdoing singing "oo" with a smile. He said I should only do that as an exercise, which helps place my voice properly, but that I should not do that when I am singing. Using the relaxed "o" position and sometimes imagining I am drinking the sound in with a small mouth seems to help. During the rehearsal I was able to sing the difficult passages numerous times with minimal mishap. I didn't sing as well at the very end when he asked us to sing the piece through (after rehearsing other things) but I didn't disgrace myself. There are several passages I don't sing, which is noticeable, because even singing softly my voice has a different timbre from other people's, but that's tough nuggies.
He also mentioned a "Music Sunday" (not a church holiday) and asked for volunteers for solos. I asked about singing the "Laudamus te" from the Bach B Minor Mass again and he said he thought it was too long, so I suggested the Saint Saens piece "Thou O Lord Art My Redeemer". I gave him the music and he said he would take a look at it. He also said he might want to give opportunities to people who don't usually sing solos. If you only look at individual solos, I probably sing more than most people, on the other hand this is no longer true if you count solo sections from choral pieces, which I rarely sing, because except in Bach and Mozart, where there are solos for each voice part, most of the choral pieces have solos for high sopranos, high tenors, or low basses, but rarely for midrange and lower women's voices. But I would not be offended if he gave the solo spots to other people as long as they were from our choir and not "professionals" brought in from outside.
I also mentioned singing "Qui Sedes" (also from the B Minor Mass) during the summer. I told him I had the oboe music as well. He said he didn't know if he could get an oboist, but maybe I can sing it just with him on the organ.
On another subject, my hairdresser came to my house a few days ago to give me a perm. I am not crazy about it because she cut my hair too short and it didn't really curl enough, but I got a lot of compliments on it yesterday. She also brought her new Ipad and took a series of photos, which I like. I am posting the best ones here.
Not only am I determined to hold my own against the "real" singers when they talk about singing, I am also determined to hold my own against them in posting my own glam shots, when I can find people to take them.
Not bad for someone who will be eligible to collect Social Security in a little over two months!
Monday, May 14, 2012
Alleluia
Every year in the Spring my choir sings a piece by Randall Thompson. Every year I am on the soprano part (his soprano parts don't sit high, they just go high, as in up to at least one high A or A flat that, in my voice, of course, have to be sung pianissimo)and every year it's a battle.
This year we are singing his Alleluia. We sang it for the choir director's wedding several years ago. Actually, I find this piece easier than most of the others because the high parts move. Most of his other pieces have a sustained high note that you have to reach from a large jump - something not easy for me to do softly.
Rather amazingly, I managed to get through the entire piece several times last Wednesday without choking. I was one of only two sopranos there so it was pretty hairy. I will have to say that most soprano choral parts in that range are much harder to sing than most solos (e.g., the soprano line in the Halleluia Chorus is much harder to sing than "Rejoice Greatly") probably because it's assumed that if it's a piece of choral music not every person has to sing every note. In this Alleluia I certainly don't, although as a matter of pride, I was able to sing all the high As, just not necessarily the phrases before.
After doing so well Wednesday, I had quite a scare Friday which I don't even want to mention here for fear it will jinx me. I was very tired, and I also think I had been misusing some new exercises that my teacher had (quite coincidentally) given me at my last lesson. He had me singing "oo" with a little smile instead of puckering my lips. This was helpful in the context of the exercise but I don't think it was helpful when I started singing. I seem to be able to manage best if I put my mouth in an "o" position and make sure I keep my larynx down. The hardest phrase is one toward the beginning that goes up to a high A and the whole thing has to be sung pianissimo. I have decided just to sing "aw" and keep my mouth in that position with my larynx down.
There's always a possibility that the choir director will tell me not to sing certain notes/sections because they're too loud, which is fine with me. There's never any point in singing alto in these Randall Thompson pieces (as I sometimes do in Bach) because first of all we have more than enough altos and second, most of the soprano part is in a middle register and requires a lot of breath control, which are two assets of mine.
So the point is, as always, that I have to sing my best, mind my ps and qs, and not get panicky, which causes my larynx to rise.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
The Groomed Singer vs the Seat of the Pants One
The title of this post is inspired by the fact that yesterday I did two things: had a voice lesson and heard the senior recital of a young woman who is going places.
One thing I noticed when I went to a lot of those meetups was that the younger singers, the ones who attracted mentoring when I didn't, had something in common. (I am speaking here of the mezzos, simply because I believe that sopranos, particularly high sopranos, have differently constructed voices with different issues to contend with.) They had voices like a perfect string of pearls, with each note exactly the same size and weight. This was true whether their voices had a light or dark timbre, or even whether or not their voices had a pleasant timbre. If they had a vocal "issue" at all, it was a breathy sound, particularly in the middle register. My voice is not like that. It is like a V on a small pedestal. The weakest note in my range is probably the E or E flat above middle C and my voice just keeps getting stronger (and louder) as it goes up the scale culminating in a high A that will break the windows. (I can vocalize solidly up to a B flat and B natural, which sound a bit narrower, but the C is just a scream on pitch - if I'm lucky - and then that's it folks). Below the lower passagio E flat I can go into chest, which is solid down to a B flat and then it weakens on the A and A flat and below that I can hum down to a low F but nothing lower. I don't know if this is the result of my training or lack thereof (I am speaking of the lack of early training "by the book") or if it's physiological. In any event, when you listen to the biggest name singers, like Dolora Zajick, Stephanie Blythe,or Olga Borodina, not to mention all of the great Italian mezzos from the 1960s and 1970s, you don't hear "string of pearls", you hear something a little more exciting. Although of course the technique is there.
This young mezzo I heard last night has what I would call "string of pearls" plus. She has a perfectly even voice, but with a dark timbre and the potential to be exciting when she lets it rip (hard to do in the repertoire that she had to sing for a graduation recital). And she is a superb actress and stunning to look at. Of course she started out with all the advantages: her mother is a pianist and is, in fact, my coach. This young mezzo began singing at conservatory programs for youngsters when she was probably 12 or 13. She has never wanted to be anything but a singer. I think she is going places.
I have never been a big fan of art songs (particularly the German ones) but I am trying to educate myself. It always seemed odd (and pointless) that to graduate from a conservatory you have to sing art songs in different languages and that the focus is so heavily weighted toward this when most people's singing "bread and butter" (for pay or not) will probably be opera, church music, and even, perhaps, some musical theater. But maybe this kind of training and grooming does something. I know young people in these vocal programs are constantly getting up in front of juries and classmates and presenting songs (easier in the beginning than presenting difficult arias) and they are taught what to do with their facial expressions, body, arms, clothing, etc. I think, in fact, that this young woman had probably even been taught how to take a bow.
Getting back to me....my training was more "seat of the pants". I mean I began with the kind of exercises that teach you how to sing on the breath, but once I was able to do that, whatever I had to sing that week, month, year, led the training. So first it was Katisha, then Maddalena and Suzuki, then (after my voice lightened from being away from cigarettes for six months) Cherubino, and finally (Heaven help us!) Giovanna Seymour. One of the blog-writing, online commenting mezzos I admire said that she had taken up photography (quite seriously) and that she found that the difference between learning about singing and learning about photography was that with the latter she didn't get a "foundation", she just decided what kind of things she wanted to know and then learned those things.
I think that was more how my vocal training progressed. If I had trouble with the murderous tessitura of Seymour, well then, my teacher gave me exercises to sing on the "edges of my vocal cords" which I practiced at every lesson. (In the performance I was not able to sustain that B at the end of her last aria but the fact that I got through the role at all was quite amazing.)
I mean there are famous singers who were seat-of-the-pants trained:Franco Corelli and Birgit Nilsson , from what I've read, so it is not totally wrong, just different.
As for my own vocal progress, I did a new exercise at yesterday's lesson: singing all the exercises on "oo" with a smile instead of puckering my lips, which my teacher says was sounding "hooty". This has made my higher notes (G, A flat, A natural, even B flat) feel easier when I sing them later although it didn't do much for the C, which is still a blood curdling scream. "Liber Scriptus" is going very well. As is "Lux Aeterna". I heard a renowned mezzo refer to it as having a "high tessitura", which I do not really find. It only goes up to a G and basically requires the same skills I use to sing soprano in the choir.
But hearing that young mezzo made me realize how much polishing I am not getting (who has time to study languages, movement, and solfege when I have to earn a living and just keep up with my practicing to keep my instrument in shape and learn the music I will be singing?). A little here and there, but it's not the same. I read somewhere that it takes three generations to make a career. I would say at least two. Which is why everyone says I'm the best copyeditor they ever hired, for what it's worth. Thanks Mom.
One thing I noticed when I went to a lot of those meetups was that the younger singers, the ones who attracted mentoring when I didn't, had something in common. (I am speaking here of the mezzos, simply because I believe that sopranos, particularly high sopranos, have differently constructed voices with different issues to contend with.) They had voices like a perfect string of pearls, with each note exactly the same size and weight. This was true whether their voices had a light or dark timbre, or even whether or not their voices had a pleasant timbre. If they had a vocal "issue" at all, it was a breathy sound, particularly in the middle register. My voice is not like that. It is like a V on a small pedestal. The weakest note in my range is probably the E or E flat above middle C and my voice just keeps getting stronger (and louder) as it goes up the scale culminating in a high A that will break the windows. (I can vocalize solidly up to a B flat and B natural, which sound a bit narrower, but the C is just a scream on pitch - if I'm lucky - and then that's it folks). Below the lower passagio E flat I can go into chest, which is solid down to a B flat and then it weakens on the A and A flat and below that I can hum down to a low F but nothing lower. I don't know if this is the result of my training or lack thereof (I am speaking of the lack of early training "by the book") or if it's physiological. In any event, when you listen to the biggest name singers, like Dolora Zajick, Stephanie Blythe,or Olga Borodina, not to mention all of the great Italian mezzos from the 1960s and 1970s, you don't hear "string of pearls", you hear something a little more exciting. Although of course the technique is there.
This young mezzo I heard last night has what I would call "string of pearls" plus. She has a perfectly even voice, but with a dark timbre and the potential to be exciting when she lets it rip (hard to do in the repertoire that she had to sing for a graduation recital). And she is a superb actress and stunning to look at. Of course she started out with all the advantages: her mother is a pianist and is, in fact, my coach. This young mezzo began singing at conservatory programs for youngsters when she was probably 12 or 13. She has never wanted to be anything but a singer. I think she is going places.
I have never been a big fan of art songs (particularly the German ones) but I am trying to educate myself. It always seemed odd (and pointless) that to graduate from a conservatory you have to sing art songs in different languages and that the focus is so heavily weighted toward this when most people's singing "bread and butter" (for pay or not) will probably be opera, church music, and even, perhaps, some musical theater. But maybe this kind of training and grooming does something. I know young people in these vocal programs are constantly getting up in front of juries and classmates and presenting songs (easier in the beginning than presenting difficult arias) and they are taught what to do with their facial expressions, body, arms, clothing, etc. I think, in fact, that this young woman had probably even been taught how to take a bow.
Getting back to me....my training was more "seat of the pants". I mean I began with the kind of exercises that teach you how to sing on the breath, but once I was able to do that, whatever I had to sing that week, month, year, led the training. So first it was Katisha, then Maddalena and Suzuki, then (after my voice lightened from being away from cigarettes for six months) Cherubino, and finally (Heaven help us!) Giovanna Seymour. One of the blog-writing, online commenting mezzos I admire said that she had taken up photography (quite seriously) and that she found that the difference between learning about singing and learning about photography was that with the latter she didn't get a "foundation", she just decided what kind of things she wanted to know and then learned those things.
I think that was more how my vocal training progressed. If I had trouble with the murderous tessitura of Seymour, well then, my teacher gave me exercises to sing on the "edges of my vocal cords" which I practiced at every lesson. (In the performance I was not able to sustain that B at the end of her last aria but the fact that I got through the role at all was quite amazing.)
I mean there are famous singers who were seat-of-the-pants trained:Franco Corelli and Birgit Nilsson , from what I've read, so it is not totally wrong, just different.
As for my own vocal progress, I did a new exercise at yesterday's lesson: singing all the exercises on "oo" with a smile instead of puckering my lips, which my teacher says was sounding "hooty". This has made my higher notes (G, A flat, A natural, even B flat) feel easier when I sing them later although it didn't do much for the C, which is still a blood curdling scream. "Liber Scriptus" is going very well. As is "Lux Aeterna". I heard a renowned mezzo refer to it as having a "high tessitura", which I do not really find. It only goes up to a G and basically requires the same skills I use to sing soprano in the choir.
But hearing that young mezzo made me realize how much polishing I am not getting (who has time to study languages, movement, and solfege when I have to earn a living and just keep up with my practicing to keep my instrument in shape and learn the music I will be singing?). A little here and there, but it's not the same. I read somewhere that it takes three generations to make a career. I would say at least two. Which is why everyone says I'm the best copyeditor they ever hired, for what it's worth. Thanks Mom.
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