Aria da Capo?

A few days ago, I ran into a man who used to sing in the choir at my old UU church.  The minister with whom I had so much discord has been gone for some time  I had run into this man before, and he had invited me to come back and "see what was going on" but I declined.  Theologically I still consider myself a Unitarian, but they don't know how to "do" theater the way the high church Protestants do.  That's it in a nutshell.  And when it comes to social justice organizing, the Lutheran church does as much, if not more, than my old UU church, so all bases are covered.  So, OK, I hear things I know are not "true", but hey! myths and fairy tales are lovely, and I am careful what I say and do.  I will sing anything, I will wear anything.  I don't take communion and don't speak prayers that begin with the words "I believe" because hey!  that's not "generic mezzo-soprano church soloist" singing, that's me Babydramatic with her Jewish maternal relatives behind her saying, "I believe".  So I pass on that.  But all in all, the Lutheran church offers a better package.

This time, however, when I ran into my friend, he said that the church had gotten rid of the choir (who was singing Beatle songs when last heard from) and used "paid guest soloists".  He said they even had classical music from time to time.  So, well, yes!!! I would love to sing there as a guest if I got paid.  I certainly sound as good as a lot of paid soloists, I just have given up trying to become a paid section leader somewhere because I don't sightread and can't seem to be bothered learning.

So I sent in a resume.

We will see.

I have no idea if The Mentor is still going there.  I think he spends most of his time traveling teaching dance, now mostly to (female) burlesque dancers. I have totally gotten over my lust for him and my fear of him.  I am grateful that he got me to sing.  If I hadn't been spellbound by singing Dalila leaning against his powerful wiry body, staring into his eyes as if we were about to float off somewhere for a tryst, I wouldn't be doing all the things I am doing today.  So every single tear, even the afternoon he frightened and humiliated me so much that I wanted to jump out his window, was worth it.

I know I won't be thrown if he is there.  The last time our paths crossed was in 2010 when I sang an aria from Gounod's Sappho and we had a nice "workmanlike" conversation about vocal technique.

I still would love to figure him out, though.  He is not like any gay (or straight) man I have ever met.  He is obsessed with women (all his gigs seem to involve him in a gaggle of them and all the pictures he posts show him with one or more females ranging in age from 4 to 94, but never show him with a man) but does not sleep with them.  He just gets his jollies from making us think he wants to.  Here's his latest Facebook "wall" page.  I in fact did post some full length pictures of him a while back (he's enough of a public figure that I don't feel I owe him anonymity) but here's the latest one.  I can see that it was cropped from something full length, that shows people's faces.  But what can one make of the fact that at the very center of the cropped wall picture is - his crotch!!

In other news, when I was tutoring one of the little girls on Monday, she said she wanted me to sing "Silent Night" (she has heard me sing at the Spanish service), so I sang it a capella without warming up, and she recorded it on her phone!!  She said she wants to "copy" my voice.  I told her if she likes to sing she should join the Spanish choir, that they are always looking for people.  So that's nice.

Next up is "O Magnum Mysterium".

The Ghosts of Easters Past

Easter was never a big thing with me, which makes sense, as I am not Christian. Being raised as a secular socialist I was not strictly Jewish either - certainly neither my mother nor her parents observed Passover.

I did, however, fall into the habit of going to church to hear music on Easter. Mostly it was my partner's idea, but I went along, perhaps in memory of being taken to church on Easter by my mother - to hear music of course.

Easter 2003

This was the year that we got up too late to go to one of the Episcpal churches that featured good music, so we went to the local Unitarian church instead. I had fond memories of singing in the Unitarian church choir in Brooklyn, which at that time did have quite a bit of classical music. My more recent brush with Unitarianism had been less positive - I had attended a service at a church in Provincetown that was full of what I term Unitarianism's "hippie-ish silliness", a blend of tiresome pop psych and music from the druggie sixties, recycled as something "spiritual". The minister at the 2003 Easter service (whom I recognized as having once been a well-known journalist - which is what she should have stuck with, being a superb writer and an extremely unempathic person) said "even if you don't believe that Jesus rose from the dead, it's still a nice story". This grabbed us because we don't believe that Jesus rose from the dead, but were pleased that the minister referred to this story, as it was Easter. My partner and I became members of this church.

Easter 2004

Falling after the life-changing events of February 15, 2004, this Easter featured my singing a duet by Mendelssohn called "They have taken away my Lord" (Easter was the only time Jesus was allowed to be referenced in this church, which I, despite my atheistic parentage, found quite silly) with The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed. There was lots of flirting and he made numerous jokes about his personal identification with Mary Magdelene. The choir sang a piece called "The Polish Easter Carol" in which I was bullied into singing a high B flat at the end. I am not a soprano, certainly not a high one, but I was the closest thing they could find to one in this amateur choir. That note loomed before me throughout the entire service.

Easter 2005

By now my relationship with The Mentor had become quite tarnished. He agreed to let me sing "I Know That My Redeemer Liveth" in the service. There was quite a brouhaha about this, which I have discussed in this post which as I said represented exactly the sort of left-wing provincialism that I detest. But what I have not yet mentioned was the Sondheim-torturing-Stritch singing "Here's to the Ladies Who Lunch" ringer that The Mentor took me through the Saturday before. I probably sang "Redeemer" 17 or 18 times in his studio (who sings something that many times the day before a performance?) and each time he panned it, if not for one reason, then for another. After I sang it Easter Sunday, he put his thumbs down and made a face. So much for the first principle of Unitarianism "Belief in the inherent dignity and worth of every human being". No, I don't think I sounded bad, but I was so exhausted that when I went for the High B flat in the Easter Carol nothing came out. Oh, and did I mention I hadn't eaten anything the night before but had spent the entire night crying?

Easter 2006

I had a paying job singing the soprano line in the Halleluia Chorus, somewhere in New Jersey. Because I was getting paid, I felt entitled to sing as loud as I needed to to keep my larynx down, and actually got through the entire bloody piece without a mishap.

Easter 2007-2010

At the Lutheran church. Singing the soprano part in the Halleluia Chorus. Made gunshy by the glares that told me to keep the volume down, I was never able to sing all of the following: the High A on "he shall reign", and the last two rounds of Kings and Lords on the F and the G. If I was lucky I got two out of three. I coined the name "my annual battle with the KingznLordz"

****************************************************************

This Easter I decided to say goodbye to the KingznLordz forever and ever. With two trained coloraturas in the choir, why should I kill myself? The alto part is not much fun either, for other reasons. Too low, with nothing to show off my lovely mezzo legato line. Oh well. We never use it as a choir anthem anyhow. It's mostly on the program because the congregation knows it.

I went to the Museum of Modern Art with my partner for the first time in almost five months, ate too much gelato, and had a sleepover.

Tomorrow I am getting back to Amneris and Azucena. If I want to sing high notes, that's the rep where I should be singing them.

A Possible Snub and A Good Practice

I shouldn't really care about this, but...

One place I have had as a venue to strut my stuff for the last two years (2009 and 2010) was, believe it or not, the old Unitarian church where I found God, my voice, and The Mentor Who Shall Not Be Discussed.

Not as a choir soloist, but as a guest artist in a cabaret entitled "Divine Drag" and I forget what else, to raise money for an LGBT youth shelter.

The first year I decided to sing the Habanera from Carmen. Yes, there's more drag for mezzos in opera than you can shake a stick at, but I've been there, done that, and, to quote something a colleague said in another context - I'm done. Meaning I'm done playing the LGBT card. I'm a big buxom girl with a big voice and I ain't playing any more boys. So I laughingly decided, well, for a WASP-y looking girl to put on a black wig and some gypsy duds is drag enough. As I mentioned here, I was once told I was too, well, white to play Carmen and something about that stuck with me.

Well, divine drag it was and it was on Valentine's Day and I got to make peace with himself.



And singing was only half the fun. Even more fun was getting to have a professional makeup job done by the "lady" sharing the photo with me. I know many women get to experience that sort of thing, not just performing artists, but gals who have had formal weddings, even Bat Mitzvahs. But when your mother's a communist, that sort of thing is just not in the culture (hence my love affair with dressing up?)

Well, the following year, even though I had had the perm from Hell and was definitely having a bad hair day, I upped the ante and went for Sappho's "O Ma Lyre Immortelle". This is a somewhat obscure mezzo aria that is quite lovely, and has a scenery chewing coda complete with a high B flat. I don't know why, but I've never had a problem with that particular B flat. Maybe because she's screaming before throwing herself into the ocean.



I sang well. Not my best (the backstage area was full of incense dust) but I hung onto that note for dear life and got thunderous applause. The audience was full of gay men and they love a scenery chewing diva. And I milked it for all it was worth, curtesying in the traditional diva way, what? seven times? Well, I was on a bill with pop singers, folk singers, dancers, and comics. So I had the diva moment all to myself.

But getting back to the "snub". The person hosting this event year after year is my bass friend, the one who sang in the nursing home concert with me. Both years I sang in the event because he invited me (a nice change from constantly feeling I have to do it all myself). Well, this year there was no invite, which I didn't dwell on. I think I had told him I was doing Carmelites and anyhow there might not have been a cabaret this year as the church has a new music director. Well, this morning I searched my email for the bass's address because I wanted to tell him I had a copy of "Ich Habe Genug" for bass solo (long story, not worth detailing here)and did he want it. And when I searched my email for his last name, it came up in the church newsletter, which I still get, saying he was running the cabaret again (it was this past Saturday). Now true, an earlier mentioned asked for volunteers, but no. I am not volunteering for that sort of thing. I expect to be asked. So what was the deal? I didn't mention it in my email to him because I want to see if he mentions it but still I wonder. Did the minister at the church (who deserves Barbara Bush's epithet that rhymes with rich) say "I don't want Babydramatic here again?" I know both times I sang in the event she said nothing other than to ask me how my partner was. (Yes, this is one of the reasons why I have stayed at the Lutheran church. Even though I'm not a parishioner, the pastors always say something nice when I sing.) Well, I can't brood about this. It's what AA calls "the luxury department" meaning it's a luxury to scratch your brain trying to figure out why someone did or didn't do something.

As for the second half of my post title, I had a really good practice. I can hit the dreaded note in "Condotta" if I use the portamento and I even had a good run through my nemesis, aka the ascending phrase in the Amneris/Radames duet, which I haven't looked at in several months. And "Erfreute Zeit", aka Cantata 83, really rocks. I never was that into making a big show out of low notes before but as this piece doesn't have any high notes, I will milk them (and the rapid fire fioratura) for all it's worth.