I spent the first six or seven years in my choir feeling like The Ugly Dachshund. (For those who don't know, The Ugly Dachshund was first a book, then a movie - the book is better - about a Great Dane who thinks he is a Dachshund and therefore thinks he's ugly.)
Everything I sang was too loud; I was constantly nudged to want to sing alto (no! as I've written about on numerous occasions, singing in that limited range, which is mostly around my passaggio break, is at best unsatisfying and at worst useless as a vocal workout). I do sing alto in some of the masterworks (particularly Bach) where there are only two women's parts and the ranges of both are somewhat higher. Although there's still that hated "gap". By which I mean that choral soprano and alto parts are usually one fifth apart. As a mezzo, my voice is a third lower than a normal soprano's. Fortunately, somewhere along the line, the choir director started picking pieces with multiple women's parts so I found a home as a second soprano. It was perfect. I pretty much never had to sing a high A, but could sing lots of Es, Fs, and the occasional G, which is what I need to be doing to maintain vocal health. If I am not getting paid, singing in this choir needs to be a worthwhile and rewarding experience.
Even though as a child I imitated Julie Andrews (my first vocal solo was "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" in a school assembly when I was 6) once I grew up I never had that "float-y", shimmery, head-y sound that characterizes the soprano voice at its loveliest and most ethereal. When you think about it, neither does Julie Andrews. I heard a few clips of her singing coloratura arias as a teenager and her voice sounds a lot like Roberta Peters's: bell-like and wiry, but not ethereal, like, say, the voice of Natalie Dessay And then of course I started smoking. And like most New Yorkers, I speak entirely in my chest register. So it took years of study after I was "discovered" at 54 not just to extend my range upwards, but to liberate all that head voice. At lessons and at home I do a lot of singing on oo before I do anything else. The most scathing critiques I got about my singing during the early period (when I was going to auditions, between the ages of 56 and 60, let's say) was that I had very little head register and my voice sounded "locked". I also needed to clear out my sinuses which I did, finally, with the Neti pot. By 2014 or 2015 the way I sang had changed entirely. A fringe benefit was that not only was my operatic singing easier, I could also sing a choir soprano part in pure head voice, keeping the dynamic down sometimes as low as pp, without "getting off the voice".
During my "ugly Dachshund" period, I shed a lot of tears over comments from the choir director. I don't think he ever said anything nice about my singing unless I sang an alto solo. He didn't want me to sing "Rejoice Greatly". He thought I should transpose "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth" down. When I said no, he made me make a cut. I felt a lot of despair. I mean it's one thing to know I'm not singing well and quite another to feel that my voice is simply not to someone's taste so they will never like what I do, even when I do it well.
I am not going to re-hash here all the brouhaha about the singer I refer to as "Little Miss". That is ancient history and I think the whole thing was a learning experience; namely, that if you're leading a group, it's probably not a good idea to make a "fuss" over one person in public.
After that things went on fairly smoothly for a while.
So I was startled last night by the following. We had been singing a piece with multiple parts. Both of the soprano parts were fairly high (the first soprano part went up to a B with an optional C and the second soprano part went up to a G). The new dramatic soprano (whose voice is at least as big as mine if not bigger) was not there. There were two very light sopranos singing. After the rehearsal he went up to one of them (privately) and told her how wonderful she sounded. Since I overheard them, I kind of gave him a quizzical look and all he said to me was "I know that part is very high". I told him it was in a very comfortable range for me - I mean my part, the second soprano part, obviously. So he said "it just is meant to be light and sort of child-like". After that we had a nice talk, but it still stung. Feeling that one person was getting a compliment and I was getting (once again) some veiled criticism. I mean I doubt the new dramatic soprano can sound "childlike". Would he say something like that to her? I doubt it. He always goes up to her and thanks her for singing as if by singing she's doing him a favor. Which I guess she is. She has a lot of other vocal fish to fry.
I am actually surprised by how despondent I feel. Possibly, the pain of that disaster on December 30 is still with me although I know it was most likely caused by my having had an asthma attack, leading to a situation where my being short of breath for physical reasons (and also for feeling like all my vocal apparatus was inflamed) led to my panicking and ending up short of breath for psychological reasons.
I think partly the issue here is that the choir director is impressed by sopranos with float-y voices (even the new dramatic soprano sort of has one; her voice is big, but it's not "gritty" the way mine is). He also likes very young people. (The woman he complimented yesterday is in her 20s). It seems that the younger someone is the more likely he is to give them a compliment. If the person is female. He also likes low basses.
I don't want to feel sad. I was so happy thinking about my new plan to focus on nursing home concerts in an active way, not in a reactive way because I see it as the best I can do. I now have two serious "nibbles" about full-length concerts that I am going to follow up. Wednesday I had a lesson and we talked about concert repertoire. I ordered Yeston's December Songs. I am madly in love with them and can hardly wait to sing them.
Sitting here now I am crying, and want to kick myself.
ETA: It is now Sunday afternoon. The anthem went well. The dramatic soprano was not there. I nailed all the Gs sweetly enough not to elicit a raised eyebrow. As a point of gossip, "choir girl" (have no idea how I thought up that name for her) didn't sit with the choir because she brought a "guest" to the service. She has done that before, but the last time at least the guest was her Mom from out of town. Surprised that that didn't elicit a raised eyebrow.
Showing posts with label choral singing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label choral singing. Show all posts
Friday, January 25, 2019
Friday, September 14, 2018
Maturity and Serenity
Last week at our first choir rehearsal of the year, with no notice, we were told that we were going to be singing the Randall Thompson "Alleluia" for the first Sunday we were back. So ok. I have sung that before. The last time I (around 6 years ago) I could see how my technique had improved since the first time we sang it (10 years ago - at the choir director's wedding), and now it has improved even more. The progression with the pianissimo High A is not difficult, and as for the "stringendo" section (with two high As) I can handle that if I "tacet" for a few bars right before the progression going up to the A. This is, of course, something that singers customarily do in Bel Canto aria endings, so I am not apologizing for it.
Of course having that piece of music "sprung" on me was annoying. I needed to map it out and sing it into my voice at least once.
I also felt very guilty not singing the alto part because there seem to be fewer and fewer altos these days. It makes sense because most alto parts are pretty thankless to sing even if you are a mezzo. Actually the Alleluia is one of the exceptions. It sits in the middle of the staff, mostly, with a few low notes here and there. But again, the soprano part is not high overall. It has a very wide range, that's all, certainly no wider than the average bel canto aria I would be singing. The only problem is there is a section that goes on with no break, which would be unlikely to happen in an aria.
Yesterday when I got to rehearsal the choir director asked me if I was sure I wanted to sing the soprano part and I said yes. If he had told me to sing the alto part (which I don't know) I would of course have done it. He just said he didn't want me to feel uncomfortable trying to blend, and I said I didn't. I said my voice had gotten higher, certainly in the past few years. Actually what has happened is that I have extended my range by two notes on the top and the bottom but my "sweet spot" has probably moved up at least two whole notes. I asked the choir director didn't he notice that my voice had gotten higher and he said well, he did notice I had more control on notes like E, F, and G, which of course is true. Then I showed him the spot I had marked as "tacet". I also asked him if the dramatic soprano who has recently joined the church would be singing and he said no. I told him any time she is singing of course I will sing alto because it would make no sense to have two big voices on the same part. The altos all have small voices although three of them have voices that are very "pretty". And (this was both sweet and workmanlike) the choir director had marked his copy of the stringendo section with the note "strenuous for the sopranos; don't overrehearse!" which I told him I loved.
The reason for this post, though, is that I can now see how much more confidence I have, not just vocally, but conversationally. I no longer feel defensive. Part of that is that a number of the "sour notes" are no longer in the mix. There was the other mezzo who sang soprano who was very grumpy and disagreeable and was always trying to boss me around (she has since given up singing for another career and actually complimented me on Good Friday on my solo). There was the minister's wife (they have since retired and moved) with a small high voice who was always complaining to me and the choir director that I was singing too loud. And of course Little Miss is gone. If you are a new reader, Little Miss was a 20something conservatory student (she has since graduated and is an adjunct professor at a small college) who sang flawlessly, even at 20, and got endless praise and endless solo bits embedded in choir pieces, not to mention endless flogging of her various recitals by the choir director. It was because of all that that I had a meltdown about 5 years ago, which was not my finest hour; on the other hand after that the choir director really changed his behavior and there has been no one since who has elicited that kind of oohing and ahing either from him or anyone else. The new dramatic soprano is quite modest as is the one other trained lyric soprano who occasionally joins us.
So we will see what Sunday will bring. I have a vocal strategy, so I won't be felled by nerves. I will go home early Saturday, not talk much (not hard to do; when I am with my partner I grocery shop and we watch tv), go to bed early (I seem to be asleep before 11 these days no matter what), wake up and eat a good breakfast, bring a protein bar (if my energy flags after the morning rehearsal) and keep pretty much stumm during the service until it's time for the anthem. The piece builds, so the piece itself can be my warmup.
Of course having that piece of music "sprung" on me was annoying. I needed to map it out and sing it into my voice at least once.
I also felt very guilty not singing the alto part because there seem to be fewer and fewer altos these days. It makes sense because most alto parts are pretty thankless to sing even if you are a mezzo. Actually the Alleluia is one of the exceptions. It sits in the middle of the staff, mostly, with a few low notes here and there. But again, the soprano part is not high overall. It has a very wide range, that's all, certainly no wider than the average bel canto aria I would be singing. The only problem is there is a section that goes on with no break, which would be unlikely to happen in an aria.
Yesterday when I got to rehearsal the choir director asked me if I was sure I wanted to sing the soprano part and I said yes. If he had told me to sing the alto part (which I don't know) I would of course have done it. He just said he didn't want me to feel uncomfortable trying to blend, and I said I didn't. I said my voice had gotten higher, certainly in the past few years. Actually what has happened is that I have extended my range by two notes on the top and the bottom but my "sweet spot" has probably moved up at least two whole notes. I asked the choir director didn't he notice that my voice had gotten higher and he said well, he did notice I had more control on notes like E, F, and G, which of course is true. Then I showed him the spot I had marked as "tacet". I also asked him if the dramatic soprano who has recently joined the church would be singing and he said no. I told him any time she is singing of course I will sing alto because it would make no sense to have two big voices on the same part. The altos all have small voices although three of them have voices that are very "pretty". And (this was both sweet and workmanlike) the choir director had marked his copy of the stringendo section with the note "strenuous for the sopranos; don't overrehearse!" which I told him I loved.
The reason for this post, though, is that I can now see how much more confidence I have, not just vocally, but conversationally. I no longer feel defensive. Part of that is that a number of the "sour notes" are no longer in the mix. There was the other mezzo who sang soprano who was very grumpy and disagreeable and was always trying to boss me around (she has since given up singing for another career and actually complimented me on Good Friday on my solo). There was the minister's wife (they have since retired and moved) with a small high voice who was always complaining to me and the choir director that I was singing too loud. And of course Little Miss is gone. If you are a new reader, Little Miss was a 20something conservatory student (she has since graduated and is an adjunct professor at a small college) who sang flawlessly, even at 20, and got endless praise and endless solo bits embedded in choir pieces, not to mention endless flogging of her various recitals by the choir director. It was because of all that that I had a meltdown about 5 years ago, which was not my finest hour; on the other hand after that the choir director really changed his behavior and there has been no one since who has elicited that kind of oohing and ahing either from him or anyone else. The new dramatic soprano is quite modest as is the one other trained lyric soprano who occasionally joins us.
So we will see what Sunday will bring. I have a vocal strategy, so I won't be felled by nerves. I will go home early Saturday, not talk much (not hard to do; when I am with my partner I grocery shop and we watch tv), go to bed early (I seem to be asleep before 11 these days no matter what), wake up and eat a good breakfast, bring a protein bar (if my energy flags after the morning rehearsal) and keep pretty much stumm during the service until it's time for the anthem. The piece builds, so the piece itself can be my warmup.
Friday, April 8, 2016
Old Foes Become New Friends
Last night at choir practice we got Sunday's anthem, a piece by Alice Parker called "Hark I Hear the Harps Eternal". It has three women's parts. We have sung this piece at least twice. The first time I sang the top part (which is the only soprano part) which sits at the top of the staff and goes up to a high A. That was about 7 years ago when I still had to muster all my forces, gird my loins, and scream up there. My doing that elicited a very negative response from the choir director in the form of a personal email. The second time we sang it I sang the top alto part, which is a decent part - it goes up to an F. When I came in last night I decided to beat him to the punch so I said, "you want the second sopranos to sing the top alto part, right" (just as a point of information, only one of the now five second sopranos, other than Yours Truly, can sing a G let alone an A) and he said "well, we'll have to wait to see if the high sopranos [Little Miss and another woman that age who has come to New York to act] show up, so just sing it as written for now". So I said "OK, I will give it a try". I figured, ok, I'm following instructions. I will sing the note with my real voice, and if he says no I can sing an F in its place, which would fit in the melody, but still stay on the top part otherwise.
Well, it was not hard at all. It stayed "in line" and all I had to do was think "dark and deep", keep my larynx down, but my mouth not too wide open. So that's that. If on Sunday one of the high sopranos shows up and he doesn't want me to sing that note, I made my point. Yes I can sing up there. So all I have to do is keep talking to a minimum today and tomorrow because that's always the killer for me.
An in perfect synchronicity, this picture, with quote, showed up on Facebook.
In other news, at my last lesson I had some trouble with the high C sharp (I had had an allergy attack the night before and also my humidifier conked out and I hadn't bought a new one yet) so my teacher said to give it a rest. Just to vocalize up to a B. He also said to give the "Seguidilla" a rest and work on other scenes in the opera, which I need to do because he has added some recitative.
Well, it was not hard at all. It stayed "in line" and all I had to do was think "dark and deep", keep my larynx down, but my mouth not too wide open. So that's that. If on Sunday one of the high sopranos shows up and he doesn't want me to sing that note, I made my point. Yes I can sing up there. So all I have to do is keep talking to a minimum today and tomorrow because that's always the killer for me.
An in perfect synchronicity, this picture, with quote, showed up on Facebook.
In other news, at my last lesson I had some trouble with the high C sharp (I had had an allergy attack the night before and also my humidifier conked out and I hadn't bought a new one yet) so my teacher said to give it a rest. Just to vocalize up to a B. He also said to give the "Seguidilla" a rest and work on other scenes in the opera, which I need to do because he has added some recitative.
Monday, March 28, 2016
Holy Week 2016
This year Holy Week was a bit of an anticlimax after last year's triumph. We sang the Faure Requiem, which is a gorgeous piece of music, but is rather light, not to mention that there were no solos other than the "Pie Jesu" which we didn't do. There also were a lot of sopranos in the choir - trained singers who are members of the congregation but don't want the weekly commitment of singing with the choir.
I sang "Fac ut Portem" from the Rossini Stabat Mater in the 3 pm Spanish Service on Good Friday. I got a lot of compliments. I felt that I sang well because I sang full voice instead of trying to sound like a light soprano, which is what I have always tried to do when singing anything with the choir director, even solos, because that is the kind of sound he likes.
In the evening I sang the Requiem with the choir. I got there late because I had gone home in between. I was only 5 minutes late, but was the next to the last person to arrive, so he had already lined up the light sopranos in the front row. He asked me to stand in the back (next to a woman who has had trouble learning the music) which was no big deal really.
Despite all this, the work is beautiful, and we did a good job with it, and the church was packed.
When I got there Easter Sunday I was dreading having to sing the soprano part in the Hallelujah Chorus (one of the least vocally friendly things I have had to sing - ever). One of the light sopranos from Friday night was there and she said she was hoarse, and went up to the choir director and apologized that she might not be able to sing (the anthem we were singing was also rather high) so I told him I had warmed up to a high B (in preparation for the A in the Hallelujah Chorus) and his response was very strange; he told me maybe I would rather sing the alto part in a few measures of the anthem that had a high G in it. Probably it was just as well, in that having to sing two high pieces was not the greatest thing for me as a mezzo, but it upset me because it made me feel that he mostly just sees me as having this big oafish ugly voice that is a "nuisance" and that I really "can't" sing certain notes which is simply not true certainly now with all the work I've done extending my voice up to a high C sharp. So this feeds into my low self-esteem and self-doubt and really is not helpful.
This had a funny result, though, in that I was so angry I wailed out the soprano part in "Hallelujah" complete with the high A and singing full voice on the F and G in "King of Kings" (which is manageable if I sing full voice).
After the service the Director of Music (who had been playing the organ) came up and gave me a hug and thanked me for everything I had done that week, so that made me feel better. All I really want is to be appreciated for the assets I have, rather than being snubbed because of what I am not (a light soprano with a "pretty" voice).
Anyhow, now it's a new day, so I will go back to working on Carmen and also on "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth" which I will be singing this coming Sunday.
I sang "Fac ut Portem" from the Rossini Stabat Mater in the 3 pm Spanish Service on Good Friday. I got a lot of compliments. I felt that I sang well because I sang full voice instead of trying to sound like a light soprano, which is what I have always tried to do when singing anything with the choir director, even solos, because that is the kind of sound he likes.
In the evening I sang the Requiem with the choir. I got there late because I had gone home in between. I was only 5 minutes late, but was the next to the last person to arrive, so he had already lined up the light sopranos in the front row. He asked me to stand in the back (next to a woman who has had trouble learning the music) which was no big deal really.
Despite all this, the work is beautiful, and we did a good job with it, and the church was packed.
When I got there Easter Sunday I was dreading having to sing the soprano part in the Hallelujah Chorus (one of the least vocally friendly things I have had to sing - ever). One of the light sopranos from Friday night was there and she said she was hoarse, and went up to the choir director and apologized that she might not be able to sing (the anthem we were singing was also rather high) so I told him I had warmed up to a high B (in preparation for the A in the Hallelujah Chorus) and his response was very strange; he told me maybe I would rather sing the alto part in a few measures of the anthem that had a high G in it. Probably it was just as well, in that having to sing two high pieces was not the greatest thing for me as a mezzo, but it upset me because it made me feel that he mostly just sees me as having this big oafish ugly voice that is a "nuisance" and that I really "can't" sing certain notes which is simply not true certainly now with all the work I've done extending my voice up to a high C sharp. So this feeds into my low self-esteem and self-doubt and really is not helpful.
This had a funny result, though, in that I was so angry I wailed out the soprano part in "Hallelujah" complete with the high A and singing full voice on the F and G in "King of Kings" (which is manageable if I sing full voice).
After the service the Director of Music (who had been playing the organ) came up and gave me a hug and thanked me for everything I had done that week, so that made me feel better. All I really want is to be appreciated for the assets I have, rather than being snubbed because of what I am not (a light soprano with a "pretty" voice).
Anyhow, now it's a new day, so I will go back to working on Carmen and also on "I Know that My Redeemer Liveth" which I will be singing this coming Sunday.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
The Show (or the Rehearsal) Must Go On, and It Did
I had one of the most grueling 24 hour periods from Sunday at 5 pm to the following Monday. I had to take my partner to an urgent care facility because she was semi-comatose from not having eaten, and had a rapid heartbeat and a lot of mental confusion. I took her there because she wouldn't go to the ER. Of course the doctor at the urgent care facility called an ambulance and she went to the ER. Because she had no real diagnosis (all test results were normal other than her rapid heartbeat, which she often has because she has a-fib) she didn't get admitted until 3 am, and even then was admitted to the observation floor. I finally went home (it has probably been over 40 years since I have been out that late trying to get a cab - fortunately one of the nurses went out and got one for me as she is used to being out at that hour) but only slept for four hours.
Then it was up, go to her house, feed her cat, and back to the hospital. I stayed there all day and then went home with her and saw that she had dinner. After several meals, she seemed to be better. Then I went home and slept for 10 hours. The good news is that because she was an inpatient, Medicare will pay for her to get home care for several weeks, certainly more often than the once a week she is getting it now.
Yesterday morning I had my rehearsal for the recording and I sang well, which amazed me because when I warmed up at home I could feel how tired I was. Not the voice itself, but my diaphragm and the whole infrastructure. But singing made me feel better and really the only problems I had were with entrances, not anything vocal. And the accompanist helped me with those.
Some bittersweet news was I heard from him that Little Miss (he knows her from the conservatory where he works) has landed a leading role in another one of the no-pay opera groups that rejected me. So she is on the way to being launched. Of course I am happy for her. I want her to succeed, as so few do. On the other hand I would be being disingenuous if I didn't admit that I am much happier now that she is off my turf. There is really only one other trained singer in the soprano section who is there regularly and she does not have the level of confidence or (apparent) charisma that Little Miss has; for example she was genuinely happy that I was going to be singing the top soprano part in the Handel and that she wouldn't be singing it alone. And she is also busy, so for example at the last rehearsal I was, in essence, the only person singing the soprano part in the Mendelssohn, which I am pretty secure with now, although it is still hard for me to sing as softly as required up in that range (and "choir softly" entails much much less volume than "aria pianissimo"!!)
Lastly, I regrettably will not be able to attend any funeral services for my neighbor. They are all in Queens today and tomorrow. I am sure she will forgive me. When the Tenants Association Secretary sent an email about her passing, she gave her a lovely tribute, referring to what an honor it was to hear this woman "practicing her craft". Lani (the singer who died) used to say things like that to me, although very few of my other neighbors have. I wonder if that's the sort of tribute I will get when I die? (I can't believe I am worrying about this!!)
Then it was up, go to her house, feed her cat, and back to the hospital. I stayed there all day and then went home with her and saw that she had dinner. After several meals, she seemed to be better. Then I went home and slept for 10 hours. The good news is that because she was an inpatient, Medicare will pay for her to get home care for several weeks, certainly more often than the once a week she is getting it now.
Yesterday morning I had my rehearsal for the recording and I sang well, which amazed me because when I warmed up at home I could feel how tired I was. Not the voice itself, but my diaphragm and the whole infrastructure. But singing made me feel better and really the only problems I had were with entrances, not anything vocal. And the accompanist helped me with those.
Some bittersweet news was I heard from him that Little Miss (he knows her from the conservatory where he works) has landed a leading role in another one of the no-pay opera groups that rejected me. So she is on the way to being launched. Of course I am happy for her. I want her to succeed, as so few do. On the other hand I would be being disingenuous if I didn't admit that I am much happier now that she is off my turf. There is really only one other trained singer in the soprano section who is there regularly and she does not have the level of confidence or (apparent) charisma that Little Miss has; for example she was genuinely happy that I was going to be singing the top soprano part in the Handel and that she wouldn't be singing it alone. And she is also busy, so for example at the last rehearsal I was, in essence, the only person singing the soprano part in the Mendelssohn, which I am pretty secure with now, although it is still hard for me to sing as softly as required up in that range (and "choir softly" entails much much less volume than "aria pianissimo"!!)
Lastly, I regrettably will not be able to attend any funeral services for my neighbor. They are all in Queens today and tomorrow. I am sure she will forgive me. When the Tenants Association Secretary sent an email about her passing, she gave her a lovely tribute, referring to what an honor it was to hear this woman "practicing her craft". Lani (the singer who died) used to say things like that to me, although very few of my other neighbors have. I wonder if that's the sort of tribute I will get when I die? (I can't believe I am worrying about this!!)
Friday, November 13, 2015
I Will Be Recording!
At long last, I have a date to record the Bach aria "Hochster mache deine Gute" for my friend's short film. It will be December 4.
It's been almost two years since we began discussing this, and it has worked out for the best, because now I am much more technically secure singing something in that kind of high tessitura, so I will sound good and won't strain.
Once it's recorded, I will be really excited about tracking the progress of the film, and who knows? I may get to go somewhere! The filmmaker lives part time in Nova Scotia and part time in Paris.
I had a bit of egg on my face last night at rehearsal when the choir director handed out a four-part Mendelssohn piece with a high-ish soprano part (meaning a lot of Gs) and because I don't really sightread, and had not only never practiced this, but had never even heard it, I was fumbling for notes, which is not conducive to good singing technique, which is all about having a physiologically based plan for what to do with each phrase.
Well, so now I have my work cut out for me. Both the Bach solo and the choral piece would use the same type of high light approach (not the same thing as singing "off the voice" to whiten the sound), so my technique will stay consistent and I won't be switching back and forth. It will represent a nice break from Carmen. Venus will have to wait, now, although I have been listening to that scene and getting it into my ear.
I also spoke with the Director of Music Ministries about a Christmas solo. It will either be December 27 or January 3. I suggested the Lauridsen "O Magnum Mysterium", "Rejoice Greatly", and "Et Exsultavit". He is supposed to get back to me in the middle of next month.
It's been almost two years since we began discussing this, and it has worked out for the best, because now I am much more technically secure singing something in that kind of high tessitura, so I will sound good and won't strain.
Once it's recorded, I will be really excited about tracking the progress of the film, and who knows? I may get to go somewhere! The filmmaker lives part time in Nova Scotia and part time in Paris.
I had a bit of egg on my face last night at rehearsal when the choir director handed out a four-part Mendelssohn piece with a high-ish soprano part (meaning a lot of Gs) and because I don't really sightread, and had not only never practiced this, but had never even heard it, I was fumbling for notes, which is not conducive to good singing technique, which is all about having a physiologically based plan for what to do with each phrase.
Well, so now I have my work cut out for me. Both the Bach solo and the choral piece would use the same type of high light approach (not the same thing as singing "off the voice" to whiten the sound), so my technique will stay consistent and I won't be switching back and forth. It will represent a nice break from Carmen. Venus will have to wait, now, although I have been listening to that scene and getting it into my ear.
I also spoke with the Director of Music Ministries about a Christmas solo. It will either be December 27 or January 3. I suggested the Lauridsen "O Magnum Mysterium", "Rejoice Greatly", and "Et Exsultavit". He is supposed to get back to me in the middle of next month.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Milestones
Today would have been my mother's 99th birthday. This is a photo of us at her 90th, the last big celebration that she had.
My mother always did birthdays in style: hers, mine, friends'. She made much of celebrations of all kinds, including Thankgiving and Christmas, this latter even though she was an atheist. And any occasion at all was an opportunity for a meal out. When I was younger I rolled my eyes over this, thinking of how fat she was (by the time the photo above was taken she had lost a lot of weight). This one (below) is a better indicator of our respective sizes, taken at Fiorello's some time after the millennium, either for her birthday or Mother's Day.
We didn't plan anything to celebrate. Last week we went to the ballet. I always think of my mother when I'm at the ballet, or looking at art.
My friend L is now in a hospice in Columbus, Ohio. I hear she is "out of it" most of the time. Since 2007 I have lost my mother and three friends to death (I am not counting L here at this point), three to moving out of state, and two to an endless round of out of state commitments (including Clueless). I have no idea how to replenish the well, other than by engaging in various activities while I'm not working, singing, or caring for my partner. Last week I started working at an after school program at the church where I sing. Maybe that will lift my spirits and be a source of human contact. I actually do have a lot of "buddies" and people I can have a meal with from time to time but socializing is pretty far down their list of priorities behind family and work - or travel, which they all seem to do either for business, family, or pleasure.
On a more upbeat note, I finally made contact with the woman at the senior center where I want to put on my birthday concert. Once that date is on my calendar I may be able to shake off the rage and misery I felt over this past birthday that never was. I am not sure what it says about me (and I am willing to take the blame) that I passed such a big milestone with no one giving a flying fig except the Medicare office and the MTA. So this date will be on my calendar. The day (it won't be the exact day, but the Sunday before or after) will mean something. It will be special even if none of my friends do a bloody thing. When I wrote back to the woman in charge I told her that I was putting on the concert for my birthday but that that was not relevant as far as the audience there was concerned. That is would be a mix of classical, musical theater, and "old favorites" from the Gay 90s and earlier, and was meant to be entertaining. I also said I could tweak the repertoire if she thought that was necessary. I know my teacher has sung in operatic concerts there, although not recently.
And last but not least, I will be good to go with the high soprano part in the Handel for Reformation Sunday. It really is not hard. It isn't as high as the duet I sang from Anna Bolena. We sang through the piece several times last night and I did not get tired or nervous, nor did I start singing "off the voice" to try to keep the volume down. So the drill is: I can do chores for my partner tomorrow, but not much talking. So I will promise myself not to get into an argument. And Sunday morning I will keep stumm other than singing the anthem. There will be a small orchestra there, so let's hope we don't overrehearse it. And I will bring a protein bar.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
How Can I Compete with Total Immersion? (Reprise)
Well, yesterday was a day of "the Bitter and the Sweet" (another oft-used blog post title).
I have been spared playing backup to Little Miss; the choir director scrapped the Moses Hogan spiritual for this Sunday because we don't have enough people. We are singing a lovely arrangement of "Precious Lord" instead.
And I got to really rock the Argento "Gloria". It's so nice to be able to really sing; that is, not have to either be singing soprano and trying to keep the volume down (if there are two soprano parts this is less of a problem, and I can really sing when I'm on second, also) or singing alto and barely getting to sing a D once every few pages.
So I am determined to be letter perfect with the notes next week.
But also, I was disappointed that my partner decided to opt out of going to the try outs for the Alzheimer chorus. The weather is bad, she doesn't feel well, and she said she hasn't sung for a while. The good news is that the director of the chorus said that the chorus year is divided into three seasons, each culminating in a concert, so we can come in in April and try out for the next concert. As for trying to get my partner to sing, as she seems to have "lost" the old Lutheran hymnal that I brought her, I will bring a book of Gay 90s songs that I have, and we can try singing those. She loves them.
At Tuesday's therapy session I came in angry; mostly anticipating the dreaded Moses Hogan experience, Little Miss showing off (that's not fair, really, she would just be singing while the women with lower voices were grunting out notes), and the response she would get. So my therapist said if I was that angry that much of the time (mostly about what I've called the tsunami of talented people that I feel is pushing me further and further toward the ocean floor, no matter how much technical progress I make, not to mention all the thoughtless 20 and 30 somethings who take up more than their fair share of the space in subway cars and elevators if not with their backpacks then with their loud conversations and high jinks) I need to write down every time I feel angry and what else I feel as well. She said I probably also felt sad or hurt. So I have been doing that. It is an interesting exercise, because of course as soon as I stop to write something down I no longer feel angry.
She also asked me why I was still singing if it made me unhappy. I told her that singing didn't make me feel unhappy and that in fact nothing made me happier than singing well. Nothing! And I feel that I have made so much technical progress that it amazes me. It's the closed doors that make me angry. Being written off because I am old and don't have a music degree. Because I don't move in a community of musicians. Because I don't live on the periphery of the people who sing at the Met and perform in orchestras at Avery Fisher Hall. The people I am talking about all do. I have nothing except how well I sing at any given moment (and yes, my personal charisma, which is huge). I have no resume, no names to drop, no past, and, therefore, in people's eyes, no future.
So this morning I woke up feeling really good about last night's rehearsal (I am much more appreciated in the alto section because there, you see, I am the "Little Miss", the one who can always sing that F that makes everyone else nervous, the way in the soprano section she can ace that A.)
Then I read a Facebook post by a woman in the congregation who is a lovely person, but she exemplifies who I am up against. She is probably in her late 30s (she can't be all that young based on how long she says she has been married) and has put together a pastiche of things to do for a living in the arts, both visual and performing, as well as teaching, both for pay and as a volunteer. Her husband has a paying job in the theater. Now she has enrolled in all kinds of classes at prestigious institutions (I have no idea who is paying for this). So she lives and breathes art, all day long. And there are many of these people all around.
So it comes back, to some extent, to the Wizard of Oz, who told the Scarecrow that he didn't need a brain, he needed a diploma. There are no signifiers in my life that I am a performer. Lots of people sing in church choirs. So I sing Donizetti in the bathroom. Big deal. Not even the neighbors care, because they go to the Met all the time. It's around the corner after all.
That's one reason I write this blog. It is about singing and very little else. Occasionally I make reference to something else, but to me, other than caring for my partner, these things are not important.
I mean I think if God took away my voice (through some kind of health challenge) I would not fall apart. I would find something else to do. But as long as this huge voice is beating its wings inside me, wanting to soar and take people's breath away, wanting to be heard, wanting to put me front and center somewhere, no matter how tiny, I will never, never, never, stop.
I have been spared playing backup to Little Miss; the choir director scrapped the Moses Hogan spiritual for this Sunday because we don't have enough people. We are singing a lovely arrangement of "Precious Lord" instead.
And I got to really rock the Argento "Gloria". It's so nice to be able to really sing; that is, not have to either be singing soprano and trying to keep the volume down (if there are two soprano parts this is less of a problem, and I can really sing when I'm on second, also) or singing alto and barely getting to sing a D once every few pages.
So I am determined to be letter perfect with the notes next week.
But also, I was disappointed that my partner decided to opt out of going to the try outs for the Alzheimer chorus. The weather is bad, she doesn't feel well, and she said she hasn't sung for a while. The good news is that the director of the chorus said that the chorus year is divided into three seasons, each culminating in a concert, so we can come in in April and try out for the next concert. As for trying to get my partner to sing, as she seems to have "lost" the old Lutheran hymnal that I brought her, I will bring a book of Gay 90s songs that I have, and we can try singing those. She loves them.
At Tuesday's therapy session I came in angry; mostly anticipating the dreaded Moses Hogan experience, Little Miss showing off (that's not fair, really, she would just be singing while the women with lower voices were grunting out notes), and the response she would get. So my therapist said if I was that angry that much of the time (mostly about what I've called the tsunami of talented people that I feel is pushing me further and further toward the ocean floor, no matter how much technical progress I make, not to mention all the thoughtless 20 and 30 somethings who take up more than their fair share of the space in subway cars and elevators if not with their backpacks then with their loud conversations and high jinks) I need to write down every time I feel angry and what else I feel as well. She said I probably also felt sad or hurt. So I have been doing that. It is an interesting exercise, because of course as soon as I stop to write something down I no longer feel angry.
She also asked me why I was still singing if it made me unhappy. I told her that singing didn't make me feel unhappy and that in fact nothing made me happier than singing well. Nothing! And I feel that I have made so much technical progress that it amazes me. It's the closed doors that make me angry. Being written off because I am old and don't have a music degree. Because I don't move in a community of musicians. Because I don't live on the periphery of the people who sing at the Met and perform in orchestras at Avery Fisher Hall. The people I am talking about all do. I have nothing except how well I sing at any given moment (and yes, my personal charisma, which is huge). I have no resume, no names to drop, no past, and, therefore, in people's eyes, no future.
So this morning I woke up feeling really good about last night's rehearsal (I am much more appreciated in the alto section because there, you see, I am the "Little Miss", the one who can always sing that F that makes everyone else nervous, the way in the soprano section she can ace that A.)
Then I read a Facebook post by a woman in the congregation who is a lovely person, but she exemplifies who I am up against. She is probably in her late 30s (she can't be all that young based on how long she says she has been married) and has put together a pastiche of things to do for a living in the arts, both visual and performing, as well as teaching, both for pay and as a volunteer. Her husband has a paying job in the theater. Now she has enrolled in all kinds of classes at prestigious institutions (I have no idea who is paying for this). So she lives and breathes art, all day long. And there are many of these people all around.
So it comes back, to some extent, to the Wizard of Oz, who told the Scarecrow that he didn't need a brain, he needed a diploma. There are no signifiers in my life that I am a performer. Lots of people sing in church choirs. So I sing Donizetti in the bathroom. Big deal. Not even the neighbors care, because they go to the Met all the time. It's around the corner after all.
That's one reason I write this blog. It is about singing and very little else. Occasionally I make reference to something else, but to me, other than caring for my partner, these things are not important.
I mean I think if God took away my voice (through some kind of health challenge) I would not fall apart. I would find something else to do. But as long as this huge voice is beating its wings inside me, wanting to soar and take people's breath away, wanting to be heard, wanting to put me front and center somewhere, no matter how tiny, I will never, never, never, stop.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
The Ugly Dachshund
It's been a long time since I've felt the need to return to this theme (which I've never linked to the movie before) but I had an irksome contretemps with the choir director last night.
I think the issue is, really, in a nutshell, that he just doesn't like the sound of big dramatic voices. To him they sound ugly, even when they're not. Yes, I know in my lifetime I have let out some really ugly notes at both ends of my range (never in my comfort zone of on the staff) but I rarely do that now. But some people just think those sounds are ugly (the way, for example, I always thought the sound of Lotte Lenya singing was ugly and, therefore, preferred Gay's The Beggar's Opera to Weill's updated Threepenny). This is not to say that Lotte Lenya is not a great artist, simply that she is not to my taste. When I was a child I tried to imitate Julie Andrews and the lyric sopranos on my mother's Gilbert and Sullivan records.
So to the import of this post. Last night when we were warming up before choir rehearsal (which I always disliked, as everyone has their own way of warming up that works for them) the choir director had us sing the phrase "Joy to the world, the Lord is come" going down and back up the scale. When we got to a G (or maybe it was a G sharp) I ditched the words at the end of the ascending scale and just sang "Jah to the world, ah, la, ah, ah"). Well, that's pretty standard practice when you sing up there, even for a lot of sopranos. So the choir director said to me "you know you can always sing it an octave lower." So I said "I can sing up there, I just can't sing words up there." So he said "well, maybe that means it is out of your range". Well, that had me boiling mad.
Basically, there is a whole series of things that add up to making me feel that I am not a golden child there. I would not go so far as to say that I am not wanted, because he needs me for certain things: to hold down a second soprano part, to sing with solid intonation and power in a middle register where most sopranos have no volume (many of them, interestingly, can belt very loud toward the bottom of the staff and below), to be an anchor in services (e.g. Christmas Eve) where there are often no trained singers (particularly in the soprano section) because all the golden children are young people who came from "elsewhere" to try to have a "career" in the performing arts and therefore go "home" at Christmas.
In any event, I am just very disheartened. Basically I sing with that choir for the following reasons.
1. I have no family, and sort of by default, even though I am not Christian, the people in that choir are my "family" for now. (There are a lot of lovely people around my age, mostly avocational singers, whom I have made friends with.)
2. It has improved my musicianship enormously.
3. We sing interesting music and I have been acquainted with a wide variety of composers and large choral works. Often this has led me down a byway to discover a solo from one of those works that I can add to my repertoire.
4. I get solo opportunities often enough that I can use this as a regular venue for singing in front of an audience.
On the other hand...
1. It is obvious that the choir director does not like (or understand) my voice type. He likes women's voices that are small and pretty. If they are small and pretty with training, then those women become the season's "golden children". I get the most compliments from him either when I make my voice sound small and pretty (I can do this without harming it if I don't sing above an F sharp or maybe a G) or if I sing something in an extremely limited range, like "O Rest in the Lord", which is actually listed as being for a contralto, but does not go below middle C. For example if I compare the video of "Angel" from the church to the video of the same song sung in a concert hall I can hear that in the first instance I am barely singing above a whisper and am obviously afraid of making one false move. The second version sounds much more "present". Yes, I am still singing softly but I sound like a dramatic mezzo singing softly not like I am trying to imitate a light soprano.
2. If there are solos interspersed into choral pieces he never gives those to me. If they are for lower or midrange voices he asks everyone to sing them. He only gives solos to whoever the current high soprano golden child is that year. Occasionally he will give a solo to a man. I hadn't thought that a choir director who is barely over 30 would be sexist but maybe he is, in that only men are allowed to have voices that are large, authoritative, maybe occasionally "un-pretty", but nonetheless impressive. He does not like women whose voices conjure up those adjectives.
As for the title of this post, this whole situation conjures up this film (and the book, which was actually better). Particularly as I am a Dachshund lover as well as a singer.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ugly_Dachshund
I think the issue is, really, in a nutshell, that he just doesn't like the sound of big dramatic voices. To him they sound ugly, even when they're not. Yes, I know in my lifetime I have let out some really ugly notes at both ends of my range (never in my comfort zone of on the staff) but I rarely do that now. But some people just think those sounds are ugly (the way, for example, I always thought the sound of Lotte Lenya singing was ugly and, therefore, preferred Gay's The Beggar's Opera to Weill's updated Threepenny). This is not to say that Lotte Lenya is not a great artist, simply that she is not to my taste. When I was a child I tried to imitate Julie Andrews and the lyric sopranos on my mother's Gilbert and Sullivan records.
So to the import of this post. Last night when we were warming up before choir rehearsal (which I always disliked, as everyone has their own way of warming up that works for them) the choir director had us sing the phrase "Joy to the world, the Lord is come" going down and back up the scale. When we got to a G (or maybe it was a G sharp) I ditched the words at the end of the ascending scale and just sang "Jah to the world, ah, la, ah, ah"). Well, that's pretty standard practice when you sing up there, even for a lot of sopranos. So the choir director said to me "you know you can always sing it an octave lower." So I said "I can sing up there, I just can't sing words up there." So he said "well, maybe that means it is out of your range". Well, that had me boiling mad.
Basically, there is a whole series of things that add up to making me feel that I am not a golden child there. I would not go so far as to say that I am not wanted, because he needs me for certain things: to hold down a second soprano part, to sing with solid intonation and power in a middle register where most sopranos have no volume (many of them, interestingly, can belt very loud toward the bottom of the staff and below), to be an anchor in services (e.g. Christmas Eve) where there are often no trained singers (particularly in the soprano section) because all the golden children are young people who came from "elsewhere" to try to have a "career" in the performing arts and therefore go "home" at Christmas.
In any event, I am just very disheartened. Basically I sing with that choir for the following reasons.
1. I have no family, and sort of by default, even though I am not Christian, the people in that choir are my "family" for now. (There are a lot of lovely people around my age, mostly avocational singers, whom I have made friends with.)
2. It has improved my musicianship enormously.
3. We sing interesting music and I have been acquainted with a wide variety of composers and large choral works. Often this has led me down a byway to discover a solo from one of those works that I can add to my repertoire.
4. I get solo opportunities often enough that I can use this as a regular venue for singing in front of an audience.
On the other hand...
1. It is obvious that the choir director does not like (or understand) my voice type. He likes women's voices that are small and pretty. If they are small and pretty with training, then those women become the season's "golden children". I get the most compliments from him either when I make my voice sound small and pretty (I can do this without harming it if I don't sing above an F sharp or maybe a G) or if I sing something in an extremely limited range, like "O Rest in the Lord", which is actually listed as being for a contralto, but does not go below middle C. For example if I compare the video of "Angel" from the church to the video of the same song sung in a concert hall I can hear that in the first instance I am barely singing above a whisper and am obviously afraid of making one false move. The second version sounds much more "present". Yes, I am still singing softly but I sound like a dramatic mezzo singing softly not like I am trying to imitate a light soprano.
2. If there are solos interspersed into choral pieces he never gives those to me. If they are for lower or midrange voices he asks everyone to sing them. He only gives solos to whoever the current high soprano golden child is that year. Occasionally he will give a solo to a man. I hadn't thought that a choir director who is barely over 30 would be sexist but maybe he is, in that only men are allowed to have voices that are large, authoritative, maybe occasionally "un-pretty", but nonetheless impressive. He does not like women whose voices conjure up those adjectives.
As for the title of this post, this whole situation conjures up this film (and the book, which was actually better). Particularly as I am a Dachshund lover as well as a singer.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ugly_Dachshund
Well, so OK, here's my game plan going forward. Christmas Eve I will be the only trained soprano there. We are singing two pieces in an easy range. The new Director of Music Ministries will be leading the choir. He seems to have a better understanding of different voice types (and of group dynamics) and he also does different warmups. Some of these are things that I do not do (I was told not to do lip trills ever and in fact don't even know how - my teacher said to roll an r instead - and some of the staccato arpeggios leave me behind in the dust around a G) but if he really wants to get the soprano section to keep singing higher he gives us nice friendly legato arpeggios on an Aw vowel, just like my teacher, not a string of words that keeps ascending.
As for the first rehearsal in January, it turns out I may be late anyhow because that is the day of the tryouts for the Alzheimer chorus which I hope to get involved in with my partner. After that, the simplest thing may simply be to come to rehearsals at 7:45 instead of 7:30. I don't need these warmups (except the ones that involve singing in parts on a chord, which never go very high). I can warm up at home and save myself a lot of agita.
And as soon as we get the January schedule I will try to find a spot to sing a Spanish song on or near Epiphany. I already have one picked out.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Voice Teachers
This post is partly for Zachary, because his comment brought many questions and comments to mind, but it was something I was going to write anyway.
Over the years, I worked with four voice teachers. I mentioned two of my earliest ones in this post. Then there was my current teacher, whom I met in 1976 and worked with through 1980, and then in 2003 I met "The Mentor" whom I studied with for two years, before going back to my current teacher whom I will call "M".
I was never able to sing comfortably above a high A, not matter what I did or what teacher I studied with. That was just an intractable problem. The last year I sang as a young person (in 1980) I had more or less gotten a handle on the B flat, and once or twice could sorta kinda squeak up to a C sharp but that was a rare occasion and certainly the highest note I ever felt I "owned" was the A.
I don't know if ranges are a physiologically fixed thing. I know that study can increase a person's range, but only by so much. What my teacher tells me is that I might have been able to stretch it up by a note or two if I had been continuously studying in my prime (if I had continued on at 30, when I finally was beginning to feel that I was singing well, and then gave it up) but not necessarily by much. What he has said is that study can make the sound better and the facility greater in the range that I have.
I also don't know to what extent smoking damaged my voice. I think one reason I sounded so much better at 54 than I did at 30 (although without, at first, the stamina) was that it had been almost 30 years since I had smoked. I know that I have no residual respiratory weaknesses (I get colds, etc. much less frequently than anyone I know) but vocal cords are delicate. So it's one thing to have so much damage that it's obvious in one's speaking voice, and another to have minute damage that would only manifest itself when trying to sing at the outer limits of one's range.
But getting back to the subject of teachers. Here is what I think has happened with this teacher. I think I made a lot of progress up to a point and then hit a plateau. I became aware of the plateau around last Fall, which was when I was preparing for the concert. My middle voice had gotten richer and fuller, and I started finding it harder to sing at the top, even an A, which for me was always "my crowning glory". My teacher explained that this was because the top of my voice needed to "catch up" with the rest of my voice. He said when I sang well, those notes were actually better than they had been, but that it now took more support to sing up there. Recently, I have noticed a breakthrough and I seem to be having less trouble.
So the issue with this teacher is, I think, not that he's telling me anything wrong (for example I always sing better at a lesson than at home, and if I do what he tells me I sing better than when I forget to do it), it's that there may be additional things that are right that he is not telling me. (I would leave in a heartbeat if he ever had me doing anything that felt uncomfortable, which is an experience that I have had, if you read my above-referenced post about "Mr. B.")
But at this point I am loathe to make a change. Particularly after yesterday's lesson, at which I sang especially well and felt more freedom than I had felt in a long time.
I know I am very resistant to change. My first impulse if I am having a problem is to work with what I have rather than looking elsewhere. Particularly in the case of this teacher with whom I have such a bond (a healthy one, not an unhealthy one like I had with The Mentor). I now consider him a friend, as well as a colleague (I could tell from remarks he made at yesterday's lesson that he takes this Verdi Requiem project seriously because he made a few tentative concert commitments and checked his calendar first to make sure they didn't conflict with the Requiem date.)
Of course if an opportunity to get a second opinion fell into my lap I would take it. I think I was put off by the tenor soloist's wife approaching me because I found it intrusive. But, for example, a few years ago a renowned teacher and coach posted something on a message board stating that she was giving "pay what you can" consultations,so I went to one and got some feedback. She thought most of my problems with high notes (the ones I actually have - I sang "Acerba Volutta" for her) had to do with not maintaining a good energy balance and creating a lot of tension around the "setup" for the top notes. But she told me I had the basics of a good technique.
In any event, maybe I will give it a few months and see. I want to go ahead with the Requiem at the very least, before making a change, and that is not difficult to sing. In fact I find "Lux Aeterna" easier than many mezzos do because I use the same skills I use to sing soprano in the choir.
I did speak to my teacher about vocal problems yesterday, saying that I had been approached by the wife of a colleague about a teacher, and that I knew I still had problems and did he know why, as I had been studying a long time. He said a lot of it had to do with not focusing when I was singing. That I had to focus on particularly trying to keep the right pharyngeal space. That not doing that caused my upper passagio to sound muddy and made it harder to go higher. He must be right about that because when I did what he told me the top notes were easier and freer. He also said that bigger voices require more support (and more time to put together) and that I had gone for over two decades without singing at all. That I only took a lesson every two weeks (that is all I can afford). He also said that singing with the choir and trying to "blend" may undo some of what I am learning at lessons. I think that used to be true, but that I have now learned how to use a supported pianissimo not a falsetto. I don't want to give up the choir, though, because it means so much to me, not just musically but also spiritually. I get solo opportunities (I don't care if they are unpaid), and my musicianship has improved astronomically as a result of singing difficult music in a small group. If I hadn't been singing with the choir all these years I wouldn't be learning the mezzo solo parts of the Requiem as quickly as I'm learning them because musically it is a difficult ensemble piece. Also this choir director is very nice and supportive. As are the other people in the choir. I have made a nice group of friends my own age there and I desperately need that kind of connection. I spend most of my time working at home, and the rest of it with someone elderly and disagreeable, no matter how much I love her. In addition to singing in the choir we go to concerts together and on outings, along with other people our age at the church.
So that's it, I guess.
I will just play it by ear at choir practice tonight. If the tenor comes up to me and gives me the number of his voice teacher, hey. I'll take it, and then just see.
Over the years, I worked with four voice teachers. I mentioned two of my earliest ones in this post. Then there was my current teacher, whom I met in 1976 and worked with through 1980, and then in 2003 I met "The Mentor" whom I studied with for two years, before going back to my current teacher whom I will call "M".
I was never able to sing comfortably above a high A, not matter what I did or what teacher I studied with. That was just an intractable problem. The last year I sang as a young person (in 1980) I had more or less gotten a handle on the B flat, and once or twice could sorta kinda squeak up to a C sharp but that was a rare occasion and certainly the highest note I ever felt I "owned" was the A.
I don't know if ranges are a physiologically fixed thing. I know that study can increase a person's range, but only by so much. What my teacher tells me is that I might have been able to stretch it up by a note or two if I had been continuously studying in my prime (if I had continued on at 30, when I finally was beginning to feel that I was singing well, and then gave it up) but not necessarily by much. What he has said is that study can make the sound better and the facility greater in the range that I have.
I also don't know to what extent smoking damaged my voice. I think one reason I sounded so much better at 54 than I did at 30 (although without, at first, the stamina) was that it had been almost 30 years since I had smoked. I know that I have no residual respiratory weaknesses (I get colds, etc. much less frequently than anyone I know) but vocal cords are delicate. So it's one thing to have so much damage that it's obvious in one's speaking voice, and another to have minute damage that would only manifest itself when trying to sing at the outer limits of one's range.
But getting back to the subject of teachers. Here is what I think has happened with this teacher. I think I made a lot of progress up to a point and then hit a plateau. I became aware of the plateau around last Fall, which was when I was preparing for the concert. My middle voice had gotten richer and fuller, and I started finding it harder to sing at the top, even an A, which for me was always "my crowning glory". My teacher explained that this was because the top of my voice needed to "catch up" with the rest of my voice. He said when I sang well, those notes were actually better than they had been, but that it now took more support to sing up there. Recently, I have noticed a breakthrough and I seem to be having less trouble.
So the issue with this teacher is, I think, not that he's telling me anything wrong (for example I always sing better at a lesson than at home, and if I do what he tells me I sing better than when I forget to do it), it's that there may be additional things that are right that he is not telling me. (I would leave in a heartbeat if he ever had me doing anything that felt uncomfortable, which is an experience that I have had, if you read my above-referenced post about "Mr. B.")
But at this point I am loathe to make a change. Particularly after yesterday's lesson, at which I sang especially well and felt more freedom than I had felt in a long time.
I know I am very resistant to change. My first impulse if I am having a problem is to work with what I have rather than looking elsewhere. Particularly in the case of this teacher with whom I have such a bond (a healthy one, not an unhealthy one like I had with The Mentor). I now consider him a friend, as well as a colleague (I could tell from remarks he made at yesterday's lesson that he takes this Verdi Requiem project seriously because he made a few tentative concert commitments and checked his calendar first to make sure they didn't conflict with the Requiem date.)
Of course if an opportunity to get a second opinion fell into my lap I would take it. I think I was put off by the tenor soloist's wife approaching me because I found it intrusive. But, for example, a few years ago a renowned teacher and coach posted something on a message board stating that she was giving "pay what you can" consultations,so I went to one and got some feedback. She thought most of my problems with high notes (the ones I actually have - I sang "Acerba Volutta" for her) had to do with not maintaining a good energy balance and creating a lot of tension around the "setup" for the top notes. But she told me I had the basics of a good technique.
In any event, maybe I will give it a few months and see. I want to go ahead with the Requiem at the very least, before making a change, and that is not difficult to sing. In fact I find "Lux Aeterna" easier than many mezzos do because I use the same skills I use to sing soprano in the choir.
I did speak to my teacher about vocal problems yesterday, saying that I had been approached by the wife of a colleague about a teacher, and that I knew I still had problems and did he know why, as I had been studying a long time. He said a lot of it had to do with not focusing when I was singing. That I had to focus on particularly trying to keep the right pharyngeal space. That not doing that caused my upper passagio to sound muddy and made it harder to go higher. He must be right about that because when I did what he told me the top notes were easier and freer. He also said that bigger voices require more support (and more time to put together) and that I had gone for over two decades without singing at all. That I only took a lesson every two weeks (that is all I can afford). He also said that singing with the choir and trying to "blend" may undo some of what I am learning at lessons. I think that used to be true, but that I have now learned how to use a supported pianissimo not a falsetto. I don't want to give up the choir, though, because it means so much to me, not just musically but also spiritually. I get solo opportunities (I don't care if they are unpaid), and my musicianship has improved astronomically as a result of singing difficult music in a small group. If I hadn't been singing with the choir all these years I wouldn't be learning the mezzo solo parts of the Requiem as quickly as I'm learning them because musically it is a difficult ensemble piece. Also this choir director is very nice and supportive. As are the other people in the choir. I have made a nice group of friends my own age there and I desperately need that kind of connection. I spend most of my time working at home, and the rest of it with someone elderly and disagreeable, no matter how much I love her. In addition to singing in the choir we go to concerts together and on outings, along with other people our age at the church.
So that's it, I guess.
I will just play it by ear at choir practice tonight. If the tenor comes up to me and gives me the number of his voice teacher, hey. I'll take it, and then just see.
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