Ditch the Sports Car

I haven't written in a while, despite having had a satisfyingly successful time singing my Bach cantata aria last Sunday.  I sang well, and had the delightful surprise of a viola da gamba accompaniment as well as the organ.  And people applauded which they never to after a church solo unless it's something bouncy.

But this article caught my eye.  It even mentions The Artist's Way, a program that my therapist recommended, which helped me more than anything I became involved in after AA and The Well Spouse.

Yes, I suppose I do fit the profile featured in this article, down to producing several charity concerts (although my takings were in the $100s not $1000s) and my current specialization of singing in nursing homes.

The one thing this article does not mention, however, is what happens when you discover a passion in midlife that you're obviously good at but not as good as the people who are really good at it, who, even if they don't do it for a living, do it as well as the people who are doing it for a living, all went to the same schools, and all know each other?

The exhilaration that I found at first realizing that I could not only sing Dalila but be Dalila at a tiny church "talent show" was quickly followed by years of rage, envy, and despair as a result of not only being rejected at auditions, but also being attacked on all sides by sharks and snarks when I tried to "join the club".  I was rejected by all ten or so "amateur" opera companies here because I was too old, too inexperienced, and not polished enough, and was alternately laughed at and ignored by what I call the "Forum Crowd" (a group of lower level professional and semi professional singers who have in common that they all seem to have music performance degrees and hate wannabees, amateurs who are too big for their britches, and anyone without their credentials who thinks she can converse with her betters like a peer.) (And as I wrote this, looking for a link, I saw that their new message board is closed and requires a log in.)

I suppose a Saturday night painter can paint alone, but you can't really sing alone.  There's only so far you can go singing arias in your living room, particularly considering that appreciation is pretty thin on the ground if you live, like I do, around the corner from Lincoln Center and have neighbors who go to the Met every week.

So I sing in a church choir, and am a church soloist.  The irony of course is that both my parents were atheists (my mother defined herself as a secular Jew) and I am not Baptised.  But it is a nice niche.  There are real professional singers who cycle in and out of there but they move on to greener pastures or have limited time for solo opportunities.  The older retired professionals (I'm thinking of one) are very "been there, done that".  Who is going to sing a solo in the summer if they can go away?

And I produce concerts in nursing homes.  I have done two since May and will be doing a third next week.  And my teacher, who is now back to singing bass-baritone again, is already thinking of  a concert of duets (some old some new) that we can do in the Fall or next Spring.

And of course I'm still waiting to be the subject of an op-ed or other newspaper story, like the singer featured today.