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.