Well, Sunday morning I woke up at 3:30 (I was really wired both about the upcoming service and about some plans to do with my birthday concert that didn't work out) and then was only beginning to be able to get back to sleep when the alarm went off at 6. So OK, I got five hours of sleep, certainly enough.
When I got to church, there were only three (second) sopranos, none with any training and really only one who knows how to stay on a part so of course the section sounded God awful. The Director of Music was there conducting and he had to work with them separately. There was one line (no high notes; went up to a D) that was very exposed that they could not sing at all, apparently, so the three higher altos (me and two others) ended up singing it with them.
Do I really care which part I sing on a gorgeous piece of music like that? No. Mendelssohn writes lovely alto parts that have a decent range. The reason I was so angry is that it's all about perception. I don't like being made to feel like a big oaf trampling on someone's flowers, which is so often how I am made to feel. If that were counterbalanced by the choir director's occasionally saying something like "thank you babydramatic for holding that note without breathing!" or calling as much attention to something I did well as to something I did (in his opinion) badly that would be fine.
Also IMHO it was a wrong-headed decision to arrange the women the way he did. If I were in charge of that particular assortment of women (I am being totally objective here) I would have kept me with the sopranos (there is already one alto with training) and told the sopranos not to sing the high A because really no one except a trained lyric soprano (not a trained mezzo with a loud voice and certainly not untrained sopranos) can sing it decently. I could certainly hold the part together, sing the high Gs (which were all marked forte; they were not "float-y") and the balance would have been better.
Well, now it's on to the next thing, a lengthy piece in Hebrew that sounds a lot like Copeland (and it turns out that Copeland was the composer's mentor, so yes! I am developing a trained ear!). It has eight parts and the second soprano part is quite easy to stay on (also it is written with only two parts per staff). Sometimes there are only four parts and the soprano part goes up to a G, but it is definitely something I can sing, including one note that probably is float-y. I just have to work on it.
As well as working on the music for my birthday concert. A lot of it is non-classical (although I can sing it with my "legit" voice) so I want to work on style.
And a dear dear friend, the woman who gave me the idea for the birthday concert in the first place, who has very little money and lives mostly on Social Security volunteered to send me a bouquet of flowers for my concert. She said she had wanted to surprise me but then thought she needed to know which day to send them, so I told her, and thanked her profusely. Yes, that's what thoughtfulness looks like.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Friday, May 27, 2016
Sad, Angry, and Manic
I am in one of the worst moods I have been in in a long time.
I had worked really hard on the soprano part of the St. Paul piece. It was not comfortable, but it was certainly manageable if I sang it full voice. Yes I can sing a pianissimo high G but only in a piece where the phrase is meant to be sung pianissimo. These phrases are all marked forte.
Now, let me first say that if when he handed the music out, the choir director had said to me "why don't you sing the alto part on this piece, it's lovely" (true - the altos do a lot of singing on their own) that would have been fine and in fact if we still had trained high sopranos, I would have volunteered to sing the alto part, but I didn't think there was anyone who could sing the soprano part. But what happened instead was that I started singing and he asked me to sing with the altos "in certain sections". So first, I was angry that I felt that I was made a spectacle of in a negative way (he has never given me any public compliments, unlike the ones he often gave Little Miss; the only times he has ever spoken to me in front of the group has been about something negative although he has given me compliments of various kinds in private). Second, singing with the altos "in certain sections" would have been a lose/lose proposition because then I wouldn't get to sing the lovely alto sections or the soprano high notes. So I just said "why don't I just switch sections" and he said "fine". Actually the part is lovely (and it goes up to an E not a C) and I brought every ounce of vocal technique to it.
When he rehearsed sections alone at one point the sopranos sang the bit going up to the high A, which sounded, to be polite, rather anemic and tinny (I think only two people were singing), some woman in the alto section said "Wow". Really??? No one has ever said "wow" in public over anything I sang. People have come up to me in private and complimented me when I've sung a solo but that's about it.
Then to make everything worse at the end of the rehearsal when the choir director asked if there were any announcements, after a few about people who were ill, the tenor from the conservatory (the one with the rude wife), who only seems to be interested in other people from conservatories, announced that Little Miss is going to be an apprentice at Caramoor. Who effing cares? As a friend of mine used to say, "Let's talk about the people who are in the room." It was different at least when she had a recital because that was something people could be invited to.
I felt like going home and throwing dishes and screaming. My therapist has told me that when I feel like that probably what I want to do is cry, so I did that too.
This morning I spoke to my partner about how upset I was. I don't usually bother her about problems that don't concern her because she is so frail, but I just wanted a hug, a compliment, some affirmation, anything.
What I decided, after trying to pull myself together (crying is bad for the voice no matter what range I'm going to be singing in) was that what I want most is a video. What better vehicle for public kvelling? So I will post something on Facebook about my birthday concert (just in general terms) about this, and then home in on some specific people as the time approaches. For now, I don't even know how many guests I can invite.
I had worked really hard on the soprano part of the St. Paul piece. It was not comfortable, but it was certainly manageable if I sang it full voice. Yes I can sing a pianissimo high G but only in a piece where the phrase is meant to be sung pianissimo. These phrases are all marked forte.
Now, let me first say that if when he handed the music out, the choir director had said to me "why don't you sing the alto part on this piece, it's lovely" (true - the altos do a lot of singing on their own) that would have been fine and in fact if we still had trained high sopranos, I would have volunteered to sing the alto part, but I didn't think there was anyone who could sing the soprano part. But what happened instead was that I started singing and he asked me to sing with the altos "in certain sections". So first, I was angry that I felt that I was made a spectacle of in a negative way (he has never given me any public compliments, unlike the ones he often gave Little Miss; the only times he has ever spoken to me in front of the group has been about something negative although he has given me compliments of various kinds in private). Second, singing with the altos "in certain sections" would have been a lose/lose proposition because then I wouldn't get to sing the lovely alto sections or the soprano high notes. So I just said "why don't I just switch sections" and he said "fine". Actually the part is lovely (and it goes up to an E not a C) and I brought every ounce of vocal technique to it.
When he rehearsed sections alone at one point the sopranos sang the bit going up to the high A, which sounded, to be polite, rather anemic and tinny (I think only two people were singing), some woman in the alto section said "Wow". Really??? No one has ever said "wow" in public over anything I sang. People have come up to me in private and complimented me when I've sung a solo but that's about it.
Then to make everything worse at the end of the rehearsal when the choir director asked if there were any announcements, after a few about people who were ill, the tenor from the conservatory (the one with the rude wife), who only seems to be interested in other people from conservatories, announced that Little Miss is going to be an apprentice at Caramoor. Who effing cares? As a friend of mine used to say, "Let's talk about the people who are in the room." It was different at least when she had a recital because that was something people could be invited to.
I felt like going home and throwing dishes and screaming. My therapist has told me that when I feel like that probably what I want to do is cry, so I did that too.
This morning I spoke to my partner about how upset I was. I don't usually bother her about problems that don't concern her because she is so frail, but I just wanted a hug, a compliment, some affirmation, anything.
What I decided, after trying to pull myself together (crying is bad for the voice no matter what range I'm going to be singing in) was that what I want most is a video. What better vehicle for public kvelling? So I will post something on Facebook about my birthday concert (just in general terms) about this, and then home in on some specific people as the time approaches. For now, I don't even know how many guests I can invite.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
This is Long Overdue (Now Where's my Videographer?)
I have written so much about the short-sightedness and ignorance of age discrimination in the performing arts, and everywhere, so three cheers to this well-respected blogger (which I apparently am not) for posting this.
http://kashu-do.blogspot.cz/2016/05/the-aging-operatic-voice-baseless.html
The video of the "amateur" soprano singing "La Vergine degli'Angeli" is beyond amazing. So yes, this is possible. There is no reason to throw in the towel if you're over 50 or over 60. There's no reason why I should assume (or other people should assume) that how I sounded at 57 must be the best I'm ever going to sound and that after that it will be downhill all the way. There's no reason to assume that someone over 55 is "not a future investment". I can understand people worrying when it comes to playing a character, or doing certain kinds of staging, but why does the Oratorio Society of New York have an age limit of 40 for their solo competition? Does it matter what you look like if you're singing with a chorus and an orchestra? Does it matter if you have mobility challenges that make it hard for you to look graceful running down a flight of stairs if you can sing Bach glorioiusly?
But this does underscore the need for people to have people in their lives who know what to do with a video camera. If the elderly soprano hadn't had someone to make that Youtube video, no one would know about her. So who did that, I wonder?
If nothing else, it gives me hope. I am my own future investment.
http://kashu-do.blogspot.cz/2016/05/the-aging-operatic-voice-baseless.html
The video of the "amateur" soprano singing "La Vergine degli'Angeli" is beyond amazing. So yes, this is possible. There is no reason to throw in the towel if you're over 50 or over 60. There's no reason why I should assume (or other people should assume) that how I sounded at 57 must be the best I'm ever going to sound and that after that it will be downhill all the way. There's no reason to assume that someone over 55 is "not a future investment". I can understand people worrying when it comes to playing a character, or doing certain kinds of staging, but why does the Oratorio Society of New York have an age limit of 40 for their solo competition? Does it matter what you look like if you're singing with a chorus and an orchestra? Does it matter if you have mobility challenges that make it hard for you to look graceful running down a flight of stairs if you can sing Bach glorioiusly?
But this does underscore the need for people to have people in their lives who know what to do with a video camera. If the elderly soprano hadn't had someone to make that Youtube video, no one would know about her. So who did that, I wonder?
If nothing else, it gives me hope. I am my own future investment.
Monday, May 23, 2016
Multipurpose Post: Good but Not Good Enough (About Singing), and Insidious Platitudes (or is "Joblove" the New Skinny?)
First about singing.
Saturday I went to hear my voice teacher, his wife, and three colleagues sing a free concert in a prestigious venue. They have a new mezzo. Yes, she sounds better than me (her voice has a big "shimmery halo" around it which mine does not), and yes she's younger (40ish), and she's agile, although I thought some of her acting was over the top. At my last lesson I asked my teacher how long he thought it would take me to sound good enough to sing with that group in that venue and he hemmed and hawed. The fact that he picked someone who sings better than I do is something I can't argue with. What I got angry about was that one of the last women he used as a mezzo was someone who did not sing better than I do but she was someone he had "known for years" and had performed with numerous times.
So there's the age barrier and then there's the social barrier. I was thinking about the similarities between starting to sing (or really do anything) when you're older, and coming out when you're older. When I was counseling at the LGBT center, one of the problems older women had who were coming out at the age of 40 or older was that they had a whole life infastructure in place (sometimes involving a husband and children, but at the very least involving friends who had known their "former" self) and now they had to figure out how to re-tool it to make room for their new identity as a Lesbian. I feel very much that way about my passion for singing. I wasn't in a college music program, for starters. That's huge. So even when I began singing the first time in my mid-20s, I had a totally different social circle from people who were in college music programs. Most of my friends (and my mother) thought my interest in singing (particularly classical music) was at the very least quaint and irrelevant and at the very worst "not what politically minded 'dykes' did". And when I began singing again in my 50s it was even harder. My friends were polite (albeit bemused) by it and my partner was angry at me. It has taken 10 years to get people on board, that this is what I am doing and will be doing until I can't do it any more, so that is a blessing, but it's still not the same as being immersed in an environment where you know musicians and they know you and that's where your friends come from and that's even where your spouse or your partner comes from. I don't only have to build a vocal technique, I also have to build a network and most of the existing ones don't want me.
As a last word about singing (before addressing the second topic), we are singing a choral selection from Mendelssohn's St, Paul next Sunday at 9 am. The soprano part sits very high, which is fine (it is similar to pieces I have sung with the choir recently) but it also has a high A in it that just sort of hangs (you go up to it and don't come back down). I did a bang-up job with the two high As I sang in choral pieces recently but they were a little different because each was in the middle of a phrase, marked forte, and in the case of the "Hallelujah Chorus" there was brass playing. So I am going to work on the piece and have as my goal to sing the note correctly (which means full voice) at rehearsal while sitting down (no mean feat) and if the choir director doesn't like it, and there are no first sopranos there, that note just won't happen and no one in the "audience" will know the difference. If we still had high sopranos in the choir I would be happy to sing the alto part, which is lovely (although the highest note is a C - the ever-present annoying gap between the two women's parts) but with the current cast of characters I can't really jump ship on this particular Sunday.
Now for the second part of this post, which I have named, Insidious Platitudes.
Today a woman whom I am very fond of (and who is quite "sensible" in the best sense of that word) posted what I would call a bit of "twenty-first century guilt-trip fodder" on Facebook.
This type of guilt-trip fodder has now become as common as diet guilt-trip fodder used to be; you know anyone can be thin if you just [eat this, don't eat that, don't deprive yourself, do deprive yourself, just set aside 15 minutes to exercise, wake up at 6 to run, blah, blah, blah]. Now the guilt-trip mantra is if you don't immediately leave a boring job, spouse, neighborhood, or, to quote Neruda "change your life when you are not satisfied" you are a loser. Whom is this addressing? A single mom with two low-paying jobs? An average person whose boring office job keeps them from being homeless, gives them health insurance, and, possibly, some money to retire on? A family caregiver who has to arrange their work schedule around a loved one? Or you're a loser if you don't change your routine. For some people a routine is all they have. Sure, you can tweak the edges a little bit, but sometimes that's the best people can do.
What ever happened to (another platitude) "love what you have"?
Saturday I went to hear my voice teacher, his wife, and three colleagues sing a free concert in a prestigious venue. They have a new mezzo. Yes, she sounds better than me (her voice has a big "shimmery halo" around it which mine does not), and yes she's younger (40ish), and she's agile, although I thought some of her acting was over the top. At my last lesson I asked my teacher how long he thought it would take me to sound good enough to sing with that group in that venue and he hemmed and hawed. The fact that he picked someone who sings better than I do is something I can't argue with. What I got angry about was that one of the last women he used as a mezzo was someone who did not sing better than I do but she was someone he had "known for years" and had performed with numerous times.
So there's the age barrier and then there's the social barrier. I was thinking about the similarities between starting to sing (or really do anything) when you're older, and coming out when you're older. When I was counseling at the LGBT center, one of the problems older women had who were coming out at the age of 40 or older was that they had a whole life infastructure in place (sometimes involving a husband and children, but at the very least involving friends who had known their "former" self) and now they had to figure out how to re-tool it to make room for their new identity as a Lesbian. I feel very much that way about my passion for singing. I wasn't in a college music program, for starters. That's huge. So even when I began singing the first time in my mid-20s, I had a totally different social circle from people who were in college music programs. Most of my friends (and my mother) thought my interest in singing (particularly classical music) was at the very least quaint and irrelevant and at the very worst "not what politically minded 'dykes' did". And when I began singing again in my 50s it was even harder. My friends were polite (albeit bemused) by it and my partner was angry at me. It has taken 10 years to get people on board, that this is what I am doing and will be doing until I can't do it any more, so that is a blessing, but it's still not the same as being immersed in an environment where you know musicians and they know you and that's where your friends come from and that's even where your spouse or your partner comes from. I don't only have to build a vocal technique, I also have to build a network and most of the existing ones don't want me.
As a last word about singing (before addressing the second topic), we are singing a choral selection from Mendelssohn's St, Paul next Sunday at 9 am. The soprano part sits very high, which is fine (it is similar to pieces I have sung with the choir recently) but it also has a high A in it that just sort of hangs (you go up to it and don't come back down). I did a bang-up job with the two high As I sang in choral pieces recently but they were a little different because each was in the middle of a phrase, marked forte, and in the case of the "Hallelujah Chorus" there was brass playing. So I am going to work on the piece and have as my goal to sing the note correctly (which means full voice) at rehearsal while sitting down (no mean feat) and if the choir director doesn't like it, and there are no first sopranos there, that note just won't happen and no one in the "audience" will know the difference. If we still had high sopranos in the choir I would be happy to sing the alto part, which is lovely (although the highest note is a C - the ever-present annoying gap between the two women's parts) but with the current cast of characters I can't really jump ship on this particular Sunday.
Now for the second part of this post, which I have named, Insidious Platitudes.
Today a woman whom I am very fond of (and who is quite "sensible" in the best sense of that word) posted what I would call a bit of "twenty-first century guilt-trip fodder" on Facebook.
This type of guilt-trip fodder has now become as common as diet guilt-trip fodder used to be; you know anyone can be thin if you just [eat this, don't eat that, don't deprive yourself, do deprive yourself, just set aside 15 minutes to exercise, wake up at 6 to run, blah, blah, blah]. Now the guilt-trip mantra is if you don't immediately leave a boring job, spouse, neighborhood, or, to quote Neruda "change your life when you are not satisfied" you are a loser. Whom is this addressing? A single mom with two low-paying jobs? An average person whose boring office job keeps them from being homeless, gives them health insurance, and, possibly, some money to retire on? A family caregiver who has to arrange their work schedule around a loved one? Or you're a loser if you don't change your routine. For some people a routine is all they have. Sure, you can tweak the edges a little bit, but sometimes that's the best people can do.
What ever happened to (another platitude) "love what you have"?
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Yes! A Real Beginning of Something Real!
Today I got an email from the events manager at the venue where we sang on Monday and she said that people loved us and were thrilled with the performance. She asked if we could come back and do something new in the Fall. The email went to my teacher and his wife (and the pianist). I wrote to him separately saying "Let's discuss this at my next lesson". We had talked about doing Trovatore or maybe Samson et Dalila. I had wanted to work on the scene from Tannhauser with Venus, but I don't think that's "accessible" enough for this type of a venue.
Also we will have to come up with a good script. The Merimee novella is literature. Opera plot synopses are not. But we will come up with something.
In the meantime, here are some stills from the performance (still no videos).
Also we will have to come up with a good script. The Merimee novella is literature. Opera plot synopses are not. But we will come up with something.
In the meantime, here are some stills from the performance (still no videos).
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
A Real Beginning to Something Real?
Last night's Carmen was the best experience I have had singing to date. I sang well, I acted well (we were singing from books and there was no staging, but I did use some movement, gestures, and facial expressions), and I knew all my music.
Best of all, there was an audience of 150 people! The venue was an LGBT senior center (not a residence) and of course a lot of gay men love opera (the audience was mostly male) and the program was scheduled to follow dinner.
My teacher wrote to me to say how "proud" he was of me, and that he hoped we could do something there again. He said his wife loved narrating and that she would be happy to provide some kind of narration for a concert of opera scenes in the future.
The woman coordinating the event took video clips, so when I get them (if I don't get them by next week I will contact her) I will mention that we would be happy to sing there again. I'm sure that they would be happy to have us because we got tons of compliments.
My partner was there with her friend, who has spent her life as an actress, and they both loved it.
So maybe this will be the beginning of my being "sought after", even on a small scale?
I hope to have videos soon, as well as some stills that my former boss took. In the meantime, here are two selfies I snapped as I walked to the elevator.
Best of all, there was an audience of 150 people! The venue was an LGBT senior center (not a residence) and of course a lot of gay men love opera (the audience was mostly male) and the program was scheduled to follow dinner.
My teacher wrote to me to say how "proud" he was of me, and that he hoped we could do something there again. He said his wife loved narrating and that she would be happy to provide some kind of narration for a concert of opera scenes in the future.
The woman coordinating the event took video clips, so when I get them (if I don't get them by next week I will contact her) I will mention that we would be happy to sing there again. I'm sure that they would be happy to have us because we got tons of compliments.
My partner was there with her friend, who has spent her life as an actress, and they both loved it.
So maybe this will be the beginning of my being "sought after", even on a small scale?
I hope to have videos soon, as well as some stills that my former boss took. In the meantime, here are two selfies I snapped as I walked to the elevator.
Sunday, May 1, 2016
Better Aging Through Practice - NO! - Better Singing Through Practice!
I stumbled upon this article in this morning's TIMES. I had no idea what it was about, and thought it might help my partner, who is elderly and frail.
Well, lo and behold, to my pleasant surprise, it was about how learning and working to perfect a new skill in late middle age can keep aging at bay. Who knew? So I guess singing is keeping me young. I identified with a lot in the article, but did not identify with all of it.
The author appears to have started playing tennis because he had always loved tennis and was looking for something to do. My experience was very different. As long-time readers know, I began singing this time (I had yearned to sing opera since adolescence but had been kept from my personal best by smoking, crash diets, clubbing, the wrong friends, and - at the time - what appeared to be the wrong sexual orientation) because I was "discovered" by a mentor figure. By the time we were finished with each other, the relationship had become quite toxic, but I was launched on this journey because someone had indelibly imprinted on me that it mattered if I sang or not.
And (fortunately or unfortunately) I don't at all feel that "I am not really concerned about where all this winds up. It’s the getting there I’m enthralled with." I care very very much where this all winds up.
Of course starting at such a late age, I didn't think I would have any kind of serious "career" but I did hope to be one of the "stars" of one of the myriad opera companies in the city that don't pay people. I sang with companies like that in my 20s when my voice was about one third the size it is now and I had minimal technical expertise, although I did always have perfect intonation and an instinct for "singing on the breath" probably from spending my childhood imitating Julie Andrews. Back then there were women there who were the age I am now, and sounded about like I do now, who seemed to sing a lot of leading roles, maybe 2 or 3 times a year.
Finding out how far down the food chain I am was a shock, but not enough of one, apparently, to get me to quit.
But singing in the practice room (my bathroom) or at a lesson, or even in a church choir, is not enough. Unlike athletes, performers are driven by the idea that there is an audience. I have accepted that it may only be an audience of 10 people, in someone's living room, but that's ok. I would rather sing two arias or art songs in someone's living room than be lost in a large chorus in Carnegie Hall.
Tomorrow is my performance of Carmen. I know if I mind my ps and qs I can sing it well. (Interestingly, the one way in which age has been a handicap is that it is harder to learn music, despite its being easier to sing).
I realize that what I want most, after tomorrow, is to be invited back. I have never been invited to sing anything, anywhere, not even church solos, at least not since my days at that talent-starved Unitarian church, and that was short lived.
And I hope I get a video and some kind of public thank you.
Well, lo and behold, to my pleasant surprise, it was about how learning and working to perfect a new skill in late middle age can keep aging at bay. Who knew? So I guess singing is keeping me young. I identified with a lot in the article, but did not identify with all of it.
The author appears to have started playing tennis because he had always loved tennis and was looking for something to do. My experience was very different. As long-time readers know, I began singing this time (I had yearned to sing opera since adolescence but had been kept from my personal best by smoking, crash diets, clubbing, the wrong friends, and - at the time - what appeared to be the wrong sexual orientation) because I was "discovered" by a mentor figure. By the time we were finished with each other, the relationship had become quite toxic, but I was launched on this journey because someone had indelibly imprinted on me that it mattered if I sang or not.
And (fortunately or unfortunately) I don't at all feel that "I am not really concerned about where all this winds up. It’s the getting there I’m enthralled with." I care very very much where this all winds up.
Of course starting at such a late age, I didn't think I would have any kind of serious "career" but I did hope to be one of the "stars" of one of the myriad opera companies in the city that don't pay people. I sang with companies like that in my 20s when my voice was about one third the size it is now and I had minimal technical expertise, although I did always have perfect intonation and an instinct for "singing on the breath" probably from spending my childhood imitating Julie Andrews. Back then there were women there who were the age I am now, and sounded about like I do now, who seemed to sing a lot of leading roles, maybe 2 or 3 times a year.
Finding out how far down the food chain I am was a shock, but not enough of one, apparently, to get me to quit.
But singing in the practice room (my bathroom) or at a lesson, or even in a church choir, is not enough. Unlike athletes, performers are driven by the idea that there is an audience. I have accepted that it may only be an audience of 10 people, in someone's living room, but that's ok. I would rather sing two arias or art songs in someone's living room than be lost in a large chorus in Carnegie Hall.
Tomorrow is my performance of Carmen. I know if I mind my ps and qs I can sing it well. (Interestingly, the one way in which age has been a handicap is that it is harder to learn music, despite its being easier to sing).
I realize that what I want most, after tomorrow, is to be invited back. I have never been invited to sing anything, anywhere, not even church solos, at least not since my days at that talent-starved Unitarian church, and that was short lived.
And I hope I get a video and some kind of public thank you.
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