The Bitter and the Sweet (New Edition)

I suppose that is really what life is, when it boils down to it.

After feeling really good about how I sang at my audition, and about the myriad opportunities on the horizon, I sank into a funk yesterday at choir practice.

First a pat on the back.  I sounded really really  good on the soprano part in the Bach.  This is not easy for a mezzo to sing, although the tessitura is no higher than that of the three mezzo roles in Donizetti's  the Three Queens. I finally did get tired at the end, but that was after singing through quite a bit of it several times.  Singing that, I can really tell how much both my technique and my stamina have improved.

We now have another young high soprano, this one still at the prestigious conservatory.  I would say she is a "lite" version of the woman who left, whom I referred to as the "young coloratura".  This woman is about five years younger and has less confidence, but she still sings better up in the Bach soprano tessitura than anyone else we have.  Fine.  If she is around for the next cantata we do, I can sing alto, if the alto part is in a decent range (up to at least the E at the top of the staff, with not too much florid singing below middle C).

I was not bothered that she was there.  There is plenty of room for a variety of trained singers who can take turns as soloists.

What bothered me was that, by going to that conservatory and studying with a prestigious former Metropolitan Opera star (which does not make this woman necessarily a good teacher, although she might be) she is part of an exclusive club, so the tenor, who had been to that same prestigious conservatory (the one whose wife told me I needed a new voice teacher, more or less), and who has mostly ignored me unless he is leading the choir, buddied up to her with interest, and it all made me feel very B list.  It's like people who have been to Harvard or Yale, who bond instantly with other people who have been to Harvard or Yale, and will ignore someone who is equally intelligent who only has an Associate Degree from a community college.

This is yet again, a situation in which I feel very like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.  No matter how well I sing, I am not worth bothering with because I have no credentials and no history, and when you add to that the fact that I am not young, I am basically worthless.  I mean I can always find little nooks and crannies into which to insert myself where I can sing, or I can organize things myself, and I can sing well, and am singing better than ever, but I am made to feel invisible.

Is it really all about youth?  People who are more experienced are interested in younger people who are less experienced but they are not interested in older people who are less experienced (unless they are in a position of authority over them of some kind) or in older people who are growing and learning and improving.  As I said to someone, they are usually just embarrassed, so the older people are ignored.

On the other hand, the other day I was at an event (with my partner) for LGBT seniors and their care partners and needless to say I was the best looking female in the room for miles around, which did not escape notice.  One of the older woman told me I looked so glamorous she wanted to ask for my autograph (and that was in jeans and a simple top, but with my red hair and stage makeup, of course.)

So what is the sweet, you might ask?

I now have a full quartet for my Requiem.  These are all singers with much more experience than I have, which is a good thing.  It will raise the level of the performance and I am glad that they are willing to work with me.

I have an opportunity to sing in several holiday concerts and I am going to show the Spanish songs both to my choir director and to the man who organizes the music for the Spanish services at the church.

My partner at least for now seems to be less bristly about my wanting to spread my wings a little regarding singing.  She said she really heard me when I said that singing in church was like taking a pleasant stroll, but singing opera was like running a marathon, and as long as I still can run a marathon, it is something I feel I must do.

Audition Recap

I don't really have time to write, but I don't want to leave my readers in the lurch.

I had my Ballo audition Saturday and I believe I sang well.

Circumstances were not ideal, in that I had to wait for an hour.  That can be a pitfall for me because it can cause my energy to flag or to get frittered away.

I listened a little, walked a little, did some breathing exercises, and then went downstairs to what I thought would be a warmup room but it turned out there was no piano.

I heard some big dramatic soprano voices and a few coloraturas.  There were no mezzos singing in the hour during which I was listening.  Apparently one of the big dramatic soprano voices was not to the auditors' liking and they said some highly critical things to the soprano in question. Most of the other people (including a soprano with a stunning, large, bright, well placed, and pure voice, who sang some Verdi and some Wagner, and including me) got a "thank you".  I got a "thank you" and a smile.

I was very nervous when I started and the first three phrases of "Re" didn't sound good, but once I hit my stride I sounded really good on the big climaxes.  And I was able to hold the low G for four counts. Then (my almost worst nightmare) they asked for the Adriana aria, but fortunately only for the end.  So I started with "O vagabondo" and really nailed that high A and sustained the F all the way to the end.  Thank you to the woman who coached me to sing "Et Exsultavit".  Putting that sound in the big arias really helps.  I am never going to sound like a light lyric soprano, but it takes a lot of the weight off.

The question is what are they looking for.  If they want a very dark voice, they would not be interested in me.  There was no callback date mentioned, so I have no way of knowing if I am being considered.  The performance is 13 months from now.  I know one of the pianists they use (he was listening, not playing) but I don't feel friendly enough with him (the way I did with the pianist for Gioconda) to contact him.

In other news, the bass I wanted to use for the Requiem is not available for weeknight rehearsals, which is what works for everyone else, so I will have to find someone else.  I have an email out to someone but have not heard back.  I am also going to ask my teacher at today's lesson.

And there are going to be several Christmas concerts in nursing homes and hospitals.  These should have meaning beyond just the glory of singing.  I am going to sing some Spanish carols that are basically art songs, by a composer named Nin.

Lastly, today would have been my mother's birthday.

Coaching Debriefing: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Yesterday I had a coaching session for my audition set.

First the good.

I did some of the best singing I have ever done.  Particularly the first runthrough of "Re dell' Abisso," Dido, and the second runthrough of "Acerba Volutta" beginning "verra, m'obblio".

My voice has lightened up a bit (the coach said that might not be great for "Re") but what I mean is it feels lighter and has more spin.

The bad.

The first runthrough of "Acerba Volutta" after a few stumbles with entrances in the section beginning "verra, m'obblio" I sang a not very good high A at the end.  I just didn't have the energy balance.  Although the coach said it was okay.  I hung onto it the requisite amount.  It just got "straight" and I portamento'd down from it too soon.

Also it seems I had pasted the pages of Re back to back in the wrong order.  How could I do something like that?  Am I into "senior moments" now?  I mean I earn my living dealing with the written word, and various documents (although most of these are electronic now).  I can thank my lucky stars that I asked the coach to play from my binder so that the first person to use it was not the pianist for the audition.

Also, I seemed not to know "Voce di Donna" at all.I muffed the words several times and sang the second ending instead of the first ending. My teacher had told me to end it when the solo section ends.) I don't have much time left, but I need to drill this,  just to make sure I know the words. This is where listening comes in. I am at the point with these arias where I don't like to listen to recordings because I don't want to pick up other singer's idiosyncrasies.I use recordings in the beginning of the learning process because I can memorize what I hear faster than notes on a page, particularly because I don't read key signatures. But I need to listen to this one both for the words and for the endings!

Now for the ugly.

I don't know how "ugly" this actually is, but after singing each aria at least once, and singing "Voce di Donna" two or three times, I went back to "Re" and totally conked out at the end.  It wasn't even a question of that last G going "straight" and ugly.  It just wasn't there.  My whole infrastructure collapsed.

In real life I don't think I would have done that much singing without a break.  Even when we rehearsed the Verdi concert there were times when other people were singing and I could recoup. But it really really irks me.

I think what is holding me back vocally now is primarily my inability to replicate the whole support/strength/energy connection (I can't think of a better technical description) at will.  When I sing well, I sound like a professional dramatic mezzo.  But I can't always do this.  And I don't really know what it is I do right when it's right (my teacher has commented on this).  A lot of it has to do with getting the right burst of energy (I think, Zachary if you're still reading, this is what I mean by "letting it rip") and connecting it to my lower abdominal muscles, my ribcage, and my pharyngeal space.  And I can't always do this.  It's like faking a smile, where you smile with your mouth but not your eyes.  If I don't give that extra "oomph", I don't have the intrastructure to sing well, certainly not in that repertoire.  And I seem to be very vulnerable to being tired, and I seem to get tired easily.  This was always a problem, even when I was younger.  I mean if I'm comparing myself to laypeople, I am not someone who gets tired easily.  If I didn't sing I would never notice this.  It's that I don't have that something extra. Professional singers go to the gym all the time I understand, although, interestingly, the didn't in past eras and there were still plenty of big voices with energy behind them.  For example yesterday I did all the right things.  I got enough sleep, ate healthily, chugged some Muscle Milk (something I haven't had in a long time - in fact the bottles in  my fridge were out of date).  But it wasn't enough to make me superhuman.  And Verdi mezzos need to be superhuman.

So what I have to tell myself is this.  On Saturday I am sure if I start with "Re" after not oversinging Friday (I will ask my teacher what to sing/not sing tomorrow and Friday - tonight I am singing a high soprano part in a Bach cantata, which moves quickly, and has not given me any problems) I will not be tired.  So I will sing it the way I sang it the first go around with the coach.  If they ask for something else (the coach agreed) it will be unlikely to be the Adriana or the Gioconda aria.  They will probably ask for Dido or Dalila, both of which I can sing in my sleep (they are actually the first two things I sang with the Mentor along with Wagner's "Angel").

Interestingly, I think one problem (actually this is a good thing) is that my standards are much higher.  When I was rehearsing Samson et Dalila I muffed quite a few high B flats. One afternoon I even conked out and couldn't hit the high A in Act 3.  But I just considered that all in a day's work.  I was so excited about singing this role in this opera and getting to be hot and all Dalila-ish, and impressing my friends, that that was all I cared about.  If I didn't sound like one of the stars at the Met so what?

I think where I have become chastened is that when I have heard singers at these meeups or at some of these amateur or low level semi professional groups, they sound more like the singers at the met than they do like me.

Well, maybe I will be happy in the same way about my Requiem. It is something for the church to observe Lent, and so I should be able to get a good audience (even if they don't care about  me, or Verdi, they will probably want to give something to the food pantry or whatever the money will be going to), not to mention that I have the biggest set of brass ovaries on the planet for organizing even a small-scale pocket version of this major work!

So wish me luck Saturday.

As some of my friends say, it is T minus 3 (I think?)

C'Mon Get Happy!

Well, the  "happy" trick seems to be continuing to work for the ending of "Acerba Volutta".  I suppose I can use it for anything:  Ulrica can be happy because she sees her little Devil friend. Whatevah.

I remember seeing Beverly Sills in the last act of Traviata (I have always been a huge Sills fan) and not liking it because, well, she just looked too happy.  No matter what emotion she was conveying with her acting and the color of her voice, "Bubbles" was always there somewhere.

Well, being happy (or tricking myself into pretending I am) seems to have a great one-on-one correlation with proper vocal technique.  It raises the ribcage, makes the abdominal muscles buoyant, and lifts the palate.  High notes, even for me, who has struggled with them for a lifetime, are easier.  This also explains why the hardest thing for me to do it to "sit" on a note for a long time.  I can do it in my middle register, even in my upper middle register if I sing the note pianissimo (like in a choir piece) but singing a note full voice and hanging onto it seems to foster tension.  That may be why I sing things like "Rejoice Greatly" and "Et Exsultavit" so well.  They are "happy" pieces and the fact that the notes move fast prevents me from building up tension.  For example, I notice that the hardest thing in "Re" is that last G that I have to hold onto.  It is marked fortissimo, and by the time I get to the end of it, everything is rigid and I have lost the buoyancy.  But I am moving in the right direction.

I also have discovered - something that no one ever told me - "lips together teeth apart" (I think that was the name of a play).  If I make a conscious effort not to close my teeth together, just when I'm sitting for hours at my laptop working, I have less tension when I'm singing.

Now the $64,000 question is can I replicate this "happy" physiology when I'm not feeling happy?

I have actually been feeling happy for the past week, which I rarely feel.  My partner is being taken care of, which takes a big burden off me, I have singing engagements to look forward to, my partner is not giving me flak about them, and I am getting out of the house more.

One thing I can easily fall prey to is what is known as exogenous depression which is different from endogenous depression, a nonspecific feeling that life is meaningless or hopeless, which usually has a biological basis.

Exogenous depression can be caused by an upsetting event in one's life (thinking my partner was going to die) or, for me, spending too much time doing dull repetitive work (interestingly, I got just as depressed doing this in an office as doing it at home alone, probably more) and taking care of my partner in her (messy) apartment.  Then when I would combine this with looking at Facebook and reading singer blogs and seeing how other people lived (some of these people seem to be doing something different every minute of every day and interact with hundreds of people on a weekly basis), I would feel like I was a failure, which would translate into a physical feeling that I was trying to move through mud.  And of course this would affect my singing - I wouldn't be able to get my abdominal muscles working properly.

I remember someone saying it's important to unpack what certain dreams mean "I want to sing at the Met" for example.  What is it that you want??  Not everyone can sing at the Met.  So I was thinking what I seem to want is to be in the middle of some kind of activity where I feel close to the center, someone attractive and important, however small the activity or arena is.  Which is why I would rather be a mezzo soloist in a home grown concert of excerpts from the Verdi Requiem than one of 100 choristers in a production at Avery Fisher Hall.

The Digital Divide

I realized this morning how many of the things I desperately want and don't have (back to the subject of photographs again) have to do with the fact that I am basically on the wrong side of the digital divide.  Basically now I see two digital divides.  There is of course the big one (which I am on the right side of), which is "do you own a computer or other device that enables you to use email and the Internet" or even "do you regularly have access to such a device by walking to a library".  And this is not nothing.  My partner and several of her friends either don't know how to use email or the Internet, or only use it at the library, therefore email is not their primary mode of communication.  But then there's a new one that involves do you or don't you own or know how to use all kinds of (prohibitively expensive) gadgets that you don't need to earn a living (or at least I don't) or to stay in touch with friends or conduct simple business, but that make life "fun".

For example I am thinking again of the younger people on Facebook who are constantly posting pictures of themselves.  When I mentioned something about this a woman responded thinking I had said I wanted to meet a professional photographer who would take head shots.  But that is not what I meant at all.  I just meant having a friend with a smart phone who was (and these are my exact words) "part of the document your life as you go" culture.  For starters, very few of my friends have smart phones.  Some of them only just got a no frills cell phone last year!!  I have had a cell phone for almost 10 years.  I got it when pay phones were no longer readily available and basically I use it either in lieu of pay phone (to make calls when I am out), so that people can reach me when I'm out, or to make "long distance" calls, which are prohibitively expensive from the land line.  I keep the land line because the cell phone reception in my tiny apartment (which is as deprived of air as a subway station, practically) is very spotty.  I plan to replace it with the simplest, least expensive iphone when it conks out, but not before.  I consider that an unnecessary luxury, as I'm living on less than half of what I made when I was working full time.  If I want to blow money, I'll blow it on producing a concert.

Yes, I can also use it as a camera, but it is not a very good one.

I also have a digital camera, which my partner bought me probably five or six years ago.  To date, any time I have wanted pictures developed I have taken the little thingummy (which usage dates me terribly!) to a camera store and asked them to make prints.

Once a friend did come over and help me install the software, but it turns out it does not interface with Windows 7, which is what I use on this laptop.  Probably I could figure out how to download a new "driver' (I did this with my printer - something I need for work) but with all I have to do this is way down my list of priorities.

Interestingly, photography used to be a hobby of mine, but my interest in it diminished greatly when the onus devolved upon me to handle the technical end of things.  Previously, all I had to do was have a good eye for choosing a subject and framing a picture and drop off the "roll of film" somewhere.  Other people did the rest.

And of course my friends do not have digital cameras or phones that they use as cameras either.  One friend took a picture of me taking a bow after my performance as Dalila and it took her two years to figure out how to "get the picture out of the camera and mail me a print!!"  And the friends I have with smart phones don't take pictures on a daily basis - only if they are traveling or visiting their grandchildren.  As I said on Facebook, if I went out to lunch with one of them and asked her to snap a photo because I was wearing a drop dead sexy looking top, she would think I was crazy.  In fact I only got the new profile picture that I use  here because a friend from out of state (who had a digital camera with her) came for a visit and I begged her to let me "take five" to go in my tiny dressing area and put on my favorite sexy red lace top.  (And this woman actually knew how to dump the picture into her computer and email it to me.  But then she at least is under 50, if not technically part of the "younger crowd" for whom "snap and document" is as natural as breathing.)

Also, one thing that surfaced in my Artist's Way morning pages (not to mention my therapy sessions) is that I both need to work more hours to make more money and get out of the house more to see more people.  The obvious answer, of course, is to take my laptop into a Starbucks or some such place but I would be terrified to carry my livelihood around with me unnecessarily, not to mention that I don't know what to do with the doodat (another great technical term) that would make the laptop wifi ready.

I think what I really need in my life are some young friends (under 40) who are the kind of close friends who will do a quickie favor for you at your house just in the natural course of events, but of course I'm 62 so my friends are all my age more or less or older, because my partner is 78, and most of them started out as her friends.  I have no family.  And there aren't even really any neighbors in that demographic either because a rent regulated building is by definition a NORC aka "Naturally Occurring Retirement Community".

I wish I could find a way to hold auditions for a "nephew".

Highs and Lows

Something totally weird happened this week.  I discovered what I think is my "whistle register" - although that and a Metrocard swipe will get me on the subway.

I never thought I had one, and if this is it, it doesn't seem to have much to do with my regular voice.

I was fooling around trying to hum a high A (not something I can really do - the highest note I can hum with my mouth closed is usually a G) and instead I sort of wheezed out a pitch that turned out to be a high E!  I was able to replicate it, and take it up and down from an F to a C sharp (at first it wouldn't go lower than an E flat) but I can only do it with my mouth closed and my larynx raised, and it feels like something wheezy being squeezed between my larynx and my chest, including blowing out through my nose.  I can't always replicate it (just tried) and I know I have to be very careful not to do myself any damage.  I noticed just now that trying to take the sound lower (sometimes it won't go lower than an E flat) produces a hideous squawk that could be dangerous.

Now my higher singing in general seems to be better, though.  I was able to get through the soprano line in the Bach cantata (I have to sing it now that the conservatory trained coloratura is gone).  It has 6 high As but they all go by very quickly.  I will be able to sing it if we don't over-rehearse it the morning of the service.  Six high As are one thing; eighteen are another.

And staying "happy" when I sing the ending to "Acerba Volutta" seems to do the trick.  I did notice that some of the low notes in "Re dell'Abisso" didn't sound great, but it's a fair tradeoff.

And, best news of all!  I landed a spot at the Ballo audition.  I will sing "Re" first and pray that they don't ask for "Acerba" next because I worry if I get a big adrenaline drain from "Re" I will have trouble.  Maybe they won't ask for anything else, or they'll ask for Dido or Dalila, to hear something in a different style or language.  I am not getting my hopes up (I will be competing with singers with impressive CVs who are 20 years younger at least) but it will be a chance to sing.

I Need to Get Back to The Artist's Way

When my partner was taken to the hospital, I had finished reading and rereading The Artist's Way and was about to sign a contract to do the program for another 90 days.

I decided to take a break from it until things were settled.

Well, she is coming home Friday with an array of services including a home attendant (no schedule or time frame was specified, but anything is better than nothing) so my plan is to sign that contract on Sunday and get back to the program on Monday.

I have noticed that now that the terror and sadness have left me (my partner will definitely live another day, if not another decade), and the depression (which really had gotten into my bones) has lifted, I am back to my same old same old feeling "cranky" and resentful.

What's important to note here, is that I realize I felt much less cranky when I was involved with The Artist's Way.

First of all, the fact that I chose that as a self-help program to involve myself in, rather than, say, fitness or veganism or meditation or reading the 100 great books, says something about me.  Just as someone's wanting to lose weight or quit smoking says something about them that makes them different from other people who are overweight or who smoke.

When I say "cranky",  here is what I mean (and this is something different from how I feel when I get frustrated when I can't sing something as well as I would like to).

For good or ill, I have a number of working singers and other working artists on my friends list on Facebook.  So every time I read about someone's opera performance, costume fitting, trip, onstage flirtation, detailed character analysis, etc.  it's like a knife going into my heart.

And I feel like a failure.

Not because I am not a professional singer (very few get to be that) but because after all these decades, someone with as big a diva personality as mine (and it is huge) has ended up sitting at a desk cleaning up people's grammar, sending work back to people who don't even know what I look like and could care less, even if they did.

I did all the right things.  I went to career counseling.  I did a self-assessment.  I spent a year there.

When I was involved with the Artist's Way I brooded less about these things.  First of all there was the Artist's Date.  Sometimes I cheated and did something in my apartment, but even in that instance, I made sure it wasn't part of "business as usual" (e.g., if it involved music, it had to entail looking at music that I had no commitment to sing anywhere, which therefore would broaden my horizons).

It taught me that choosing the most beautifully colored heirloom tomatoes at a farmer's market, having a bath with an expensive bubble bar from Lush, or spending time pondering which top, which neckline, and which eyeshadow color I was going to wear that day to Duane Reade made me something.  (And in fact, one day when I stood on the checkout line at Duane Reade itself, a young woman told me how much she loved my makeup and hair.)

The Artist's Way says artists (and by artists they don't just mean "professionals") are cranky when we are not being artists.  So I guess I am not that unusual.

Why am I So Hard To See

The title of this post was inspired by this post . Something I seem to struggle with over and over, is the fact that I seem to be invisible most of the time.

Is it my age?  I am 62 but I don't look 62.  (One of my sources of discontent is how few pictures I have of myself; if I had one that was that different or better than the one I use for a profile picture I would post it.)  I am certainly not skinny (I have a BMI of 25, which is teetering on the borderline of being overweight) but I am extremely fit and mostly carry my weight in the right places.  I have a gorgeous hair dye job and wear stage makeup all the time.  I never look ordinary, I can tell you that.  And because I have so few "special occasions" in my life, I do myself up as if every single day were one. I have been approached at least once with an offer to be an "adult" film star.  Apparently women my age who look like me are a huge niche market (and yes, the more I feel ignored, the more I will "up the ante" regarding the kinds of things I write about here).

Or is it that I work in an industry that is almost entirely virtual, where no one knows what I look like?  And when I did work somewhere where I was physically present, despite having a high level job, I was treated like a "function" not a person, let alone an attractive woman with a great fashion sense.  I know sexual harassment in its most virulent forms is Hell, but a little wholesome teasing to make an attractive woman feel appreciated would be nice once in while.  But (sigh) the pendulum has really really swung so far in the other direction you can't even see that there is a pendulum.

Lately I just have had too many experiences of being "aggressively ignored" and yes, just like "deafening silence" it is very obvious when someone is being aggressively ignored.

In fact the lady who wrote the above referenced post also wrote and published an article (I can't remember about what) in which it was advised that professional singers should politely ignore hangers on who are not really good singers, and not "engage" with them in conversations about singing.  If you want to be polite, she advised, you can engage with them on another topic of mutual interest.  What is the problem here?  Is "amateurishness" contagious, the way some people think homosexuality (or overweight) might be?

But oh, doesn't she know that this is oh so obvious to the "ignoree"?  It's like waiting for the taxi that stops for other people, but not for you.  This can't be an accident.

So what does it take to be noticed?  Choosing the right venue?  The right social circle, virtual or otherwise?  Moving to a part of the country where what you do, even in a less than stellar manner, is in short supply and you can be special? (This latter is not likely.  I have a sweetheart deal where I live and anyhow I never learned to drive.)

Why does one person attract notice when others do not?  I am not talking here about trying to compete with singers at the Met, or even with singers at all, but about the synergy that occurred with Julie and Julia, which I have written about many times.

Why did someone decide that Julie's blog about Julia Child's recipes deserved a magazine article?  All kinds of people write all kind of blogs about all kinds of things.  I will never sing at the Met, but, for example, why shouldn't someone from Opera News or Classical Singer decide that my writing about the experience of trying to do something with classical singing in my late 50s and 60s is worth a little public exposure?

What do I need to do??

There are days when (I can hear someone saying "be careful what you pray for you may get it") what I long for is to be chased up and down Columbus Avenue by a herd of paparazzi.  I want a public life so badly.