I have been feeling so happy since Good Friday, but now it is time to move on! I have been continuing to work on my concert repertoire and my vocal technique continues to improve by leaps and bounds, amazing even me.
As for the title of this post, two opportunities have presented themselves, one which I am pretty sure I will finally pass on, with a great deal of regret, the second of which I will pass on because I have no choice.
What upsets me, particularly in the first instance, is that what became a deal-breaker is more or less age related; namely, that the evening audition that I had wanted to go to is in a neighborhood where I do not feel safe either going to, coming from, or being in at night after dark. This is an up and coming neighborhood in North Manhattan, where all the people who, 30 years ago, would have found tenement apartments on the Upper West Side, are now living. It was even once laughingly referred to as the Diva ghetto. On the other hand, much of it is unsavory, it is a fairly high crime area at night, and I do not know my way around. If I had to live there, I would cope, and would know which streets are safe, which are not, how to navigate my way from point A to point B, and so forth. But going alone to an audition is another story. I say this is age related for two reasons. First, my "image" of that neighborhood is probably by now about 20 years out of date (although not entirely; I know people who have moved to the burbs and commute to work rather than live there), and second, I feel especially unsafe as a woman in my 60s with orthopedic challenges who cannot run.
Now, OK, if I thought I really really had a good chance of being chosen for the part (it is a solo part in an oratorio) I would chance it and pay for a car service. But there are already numerous challenges. The audition date is now less than two weeks away, the forms are annoying to fill out (you have to send a money order [the fee in and of itself is not a deal breaker, even if I were only doing this for the experience], the forms are complicated, and I don't know if I can use oratorio solos for my "aria list"), and I never heard back from my Don Jose, who works there as a stage director, and should by now have answered either my email or my phone message. Yes, my teacher told me that this person is busy, but I'm sure if he thought that I would be the perfect person to sing this he would have gotten in touch with me. So that in and of itself speaks volumes. I have a voice lesson tomorrow and I will tell my teacher what I have decided. The upside of all this is that during the brief period when I had thought I was going to audition (and I would have auditioned despite the obstacles if the auditions had been in Chelsea the way they were last time) I reworked "Liber Scriptus" and wow! what a difference. All I need to do is not breathe before the word "judicetur" going up to the A flat, and it's a walk in the park. Yes, all the mezzos I've listened to do breathe there, but for me it's easier not to (the curse of the catch breath).
As for the second "pass", the woman who has readings of operas from books in her living room (the one who was not interested in me for the Handel) seems to be desperate for an Azucena to sing in, again, less than two weeks. If I had two months notice I would bite, because I would love a chance to sing that role and even think now I could manage the two B flats without cheating on the first one, but the reading is scheduled for a Saturday, which is my regular elder care day, and this particular Saturday is the day after the day I am taking my partner to a new primary care doctor, which means I would not have any rest the day before. Not to mention that I would not have time to sing the role into my voice applying all the new techniques that I have learned in the past four years (it has already been four years since I sang Act II). But what irks me is that this is another way in which age is a factor (well, not entirely; if I were in my early 30s and had two young children I probably couldn't jump to sing something - unless it was a paying job - on very little notice). But many of the people I am competing with don't have children, even the people in their late 30s. And if they have spouses their spouses are totally on board with their careers (or musical and theatrical obsessions), so I have challenges that they don't have.
Anyhow, this all seems very disappointing.
I need to continue to do things other than just choir singing and church solos, because I need to challenge myself in a variety of settings and contexts, as well as with a variety of repertoire, and overcome my nerves.
In other age-related news, I just submitted an online application for Medicare, for which I will be eligible in three months.
ETA: I wrote to a friend about the Azucena gig, and a lightbulb went off in my head that no doubt all the professionals, emergings, and professional cusp-ers who initially wanted to sing Azucena (there has to have been someone) got a better offer, which is why I strongly believe that if this woman wants to have singthroughs of operas in her living room, she would be better served using people like me, who would be thrilled to sing through a role if we had a decent amount of notice. She would make as much money regardless. Contrary to what people think, it's the professionals who leave you in the lurch for a non-paying gig, not the avocationals, for who it may very well be the best gig we can get. So the professionals should leave these alone.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Saturday, April 4, 2015
A Dream Achieved
Yesterday was one of happiest and most fulfilling days I have had in a very long time; probably not since May 2008. And even that day was slightly marred by my knowing I was going to come back to a disaster in the office and that there would be no "afterglow". (And of course if I had had a decent recording of that performance and heard it now I would cringe.)
I was not happy with how I sang in My 2011 Verdi concert, mostly because of the air quality which didn't even allow me to sing my personal best for that time. I was happy with the Verdi Requiem after I sang, but less so when I heard the recording and heard how "small" my voice sounded compared to the other three singers (two of whom are working professionals and the third a woman whose singing could rival any professional's).
Finally by last year's Carmeneverything had come together vocally, for the most part, but I forgot to take my glasses off for some of the scenes, and I was bitterly disappointed at how few people showed up (as was the woman who helped me produce it), and the "buzz" was overshadowed by Little Miss's senior recital.
Actually yesterday was not the first time I had sung solo material with an orchestra, but the previous time all I sang was the alto line in one of the quartets in the Mozart Requiem which had been shortened considerably.
This time I got to really let it rip (first with two other singers, then with just the soprano) in the "Rex Tremendae" section of the Dvorak Requiem. So standing there, behind the orchestra, I felt like a real professional dramatic mezzo doing my thing. And I got (totally unexpected and heartfelt) compliments from the choir director who was conducting. It brought tears to my eyes. This is what I have lived for all this past year.
I also sang at noon, the Rossini "Agnus Dei". I sang it very very well, letting my big dramatic voice out on the climaxes even though they were only Es.
So now I have my May concert to work on and early next week I will write to my Don Jose and ask him what he thinks of my auditioning for the Mozart Requiem.
If there's a lesson here, it's this. All those years when I felt frustrated by how little progress I was making, I never dreamed that suddenly it would all be easier (not that everything is easy; all I have to do to humble myself is pick up that Amneris/Radames duet with the high B flats!!). It is what I wanted but I really didn't know if it would be possible. So the lesson is that anything is possible, even for someone who will be 65 in a few months. It's not over. It's not a "given" that everything is going to be downhill from now on. And people need to know this and not "assume".
In any event. I thank God with all my heart for yesterday.
I was not happy with how I sang in My 2011 Verdi concert, mostly because of the air quality which didn't even allow me to sing my personal best for that time. I was happy with the Verdi Requiem after I sang, but less so when I heard the recording and heard how "small" my voice sounded compared to the other three singers (two of whom are working professionals and the third a woman whose singing could rival any professional's).
Finally by last year's Carmeneverything had come together vocally, for the most part, but I forgot to take my glasses off for some of the scenes, and I was bitterly disappointed at how few people showed up (as was the woman who helped me produce it), and the "buzz" was overshadowed by Little Miss's senior recital.
Actually yesterday was not the first time I had sung solo material with an orchestra, but the previous time all I sang was the alto line in one of the quartets in the Mozart Requiem which had been shortened considerably.
This time I got to really let it rip (first with two other singers, then with just the soprano) in the "Rex Tremendae" section of the Dvorak Requiem. So standing there, behind the orchestra, I felt like a real professional dramatic mezzo doing my thing. And I got (totally unexpected and heartfelt) compliments from the choir director who was conducting. It brought tears to my eyes. This is what I have lived for all this past year.
I also sang at noon, the Rossini "Agnus Dei". I sang it very very well, letting my big dramatic voice out on the climaxes even though they were only Es.
So now I have my May concert to work on and early next week I will write to my Don Jose and ask him what he thinks of my auditioning for the Mozart Requiem.
If there's a lesson here, it's this. All those years when I felt frustrated by how little progress I was making, I never dreamed that suddenly it would all be easier (not that everything is easy; all I have to do to humble myself is pick up that Amneris/Radames duet with the high B flats!!). It is what I wanted but I really didn't know if it would be possible. So the lesson is that anything is possible, even for someone who will be 65 in a few months. It's not over. It's not a "given" that everything is going to be downhill from now on. And people need to know this and not "assume".
In any event. I thank God with all my heart for yesterday.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Good Friday's Eve (AKA Maundy Thursday)
I am calling tonight "Good Friday's Eve" instead of Maundy Thursday because this year I am not singing at the Maundy Thursday service (that has been pretty much given over to the other church that shares our space and only uses paid soloists, no choir), so I see tonight as an "at home and rest" time.
For the most part things are going well. I have been spot on with my part in the solo quartet sections at all the rehearsals. The only thing that went badly last night (a loooong rehearsal where IMHO we did too much singing) was I blew the big G sharp in the "Confutatis" section, which is something I sing with the other choir sopranos so theoretically it doesn't make much difference if I sing it or not, but it is a matter of pride and proving to myself what I can do. I know what to do. I sing the ascending phrase big and dark (we have a lot of rest beforehand) and push my larynx down and make space. And bounce my lower abs.
The "Agnus Dei" sounds great. I had a good runthrough with it on Wednesday with the pianist. I am singing that at noon. I had asked my teacher if I should worry about getting tired and he said no. If necessary I will "oo" my way through most of the rehearsal before the service tomorrow night, perhaps through the "Dies Irae" which involves a lot of loud singing at the top of the staff, something I am very good at, but I can save it for the actual performance. I will want to sing out in the solo quartet sections and yes, in the phrase in the "Confutatis" so that I know I can do it.
In other news, it turns out that my partner does not want to participate in the Alzheimer's chorus. She said it's because she doesn't have Alzheimer's (she does have some form of dementia which sometimes she admits to and sometimes not), but I actually think the issue is that she doesn't want to commit to weekly rehearsals. That may be for the best because in May she is going to start physical therapy again twice a week.
So I have my May concert to work on, and I saw an ad for an audition for the Mozart Requiem. It is being performed by one of the no pay opera companies that I auditioned for, which seems to mostly use these "professional cusp" singers in their late 30s and early 40s, and which probably would not be interested in me, even for an oratorio, but I certainly plan to audition. The man who sang Don Jose in my Carmen is a stage director there so after Easter I will email him and ask him what he thinks. The last day of auditions is on a Monday night which is manageable. The alto solo part in the Requiem is in a low range and is easily something I can sing. I sang the alto solo line in one of the quartets on Good Friday about four years ago, which, actually, was the last time I did any solo singing in the Good Friday evening service. So I will ask, for example, if my aria sheet should contain oratorio selections rather than opera selections. They are much easier to sing. If I decide to audition I will ask my teacher what to offer. "Liber Scriptus" would be good (I need to rework it) and possibly the Rossini "Agnus Dei," although it is long. The only Mozart oratorio aria I know is "Laudate Dominum" which is written for a soprano but is mostly about having a lovely pianissimo high F, which I do have. However that is not the type of thing that would show how I would sound in the Requiem. I could also bring the Bach "Qui Sedes". Anyhow, this is something to plan and look forward to, even though they probably would not be interested in me.
For the most part things are going well. I have been spot on with my part in the solo quartet sections at all the rehearsals. The only thing that went badly last night (a loooong rehearsal where IMHO we did too much singing) was I blew the big G sharp in the "Confutatis" section, which is something I sing with the other choir sopranos so theoretically it doesn't make much difference if I sing it or not, but it is a matter of pride and proving to myself what I can do. I know what to do. I sing the ascending phrase big and dark (we have a lot of rest beforehand) and push my larynx down and make space. And bounce my lower abs.
The "Agnus Dei" sounds great. I had a good runthrough with it on Wednesday with the pianist. I am singing that at noon. I had asked my teacher if I should worry about getting tired and he said no. If necessary I will "oo" my way through most of the rehearsal before the service tomorrow night, perhaps through the "Dies Irae" which involves a lot of loud singing at the top of the staff, something I am very good at, but I can save it for the actual performance. I will want to sing out in the solo quartet sections and yes, in the phrase in the "Confutatis" so that I know I can do it.
In other news, it turns out that my partner does not want to participate in the Alzheimer's chorus. She said it's because she doesn't have Alzheimer's (she does have some form of dementia which sometimes she admits to and sometimes not), but I actually think the issue is that she doesn't want to commit to weekly rehearsals. That may be for the best because in May she is going to start physical therapy again twice a week.
So I have my May concert to work on, and I saw an ad for an audition for the Mozart Requiem. It is being performed by one of the no pay opera companies that I auditioned for, which seems to mostly use these "professional cusp" singers in their late 30s and early 40s, and which probably would not be interested in me, even for an oratorio, but I certainly plan to audition. The man who sang Don Jose in my Carmen is a stage director there so after Easter I will email him and ask him what he thinks. The last day of auditions is on a Monday night which is manageable. The alto solo part in the Requiem is in a low range and is easily something I can sing. I sang the alto solo line in one of the quartets on Good Friday about four years ago, which, actually, was the last time I did any solo singing in the Good Friday evening service. So I will ask, for example, if my aria sheet should contain oratorio selections rather than opera selections. They are much easier to sing. If I decide to audition I will ask my teacher what to offer. "Liber Scriptus" would be good (I need to rework it) and possibly the Rossini "Agnus Dei," although it is long. The only Mozart oratorio aria I know is "Laudate Dominum" which is written for a soprano but is mostly about having a lovely pianissimo high F, which I do have. However that is not the type of thing that would show how I would sound in the Requiem. I could also bring the Bach "Qui Sedes". Anyhow, this is something to plan and look forward to, even though they probably would not be interested in me.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
Looking Up (No Qualifiers this Time)
I feel it behooves me to write when things are going well as much as when they are not.
I now have a very busy Good Friday, with several featured spots. I will be singing the Rossini "Agnus Dei" in the noon service, which I had agreed to do before I knew what was going to be going on with the evening service. Now I see that I will also be part of three of the solo quartets in the Dvorak Requiem at night. I am thrilled. There is nothing vocally demanding there (the most vocally demanding thing is one line in the soprano chorus part, which I am still singing, and which I know what to do with technically as I can sing it full voice). It is musically demanding, especially for me as someone who does not have a music theory background. But to date my ear has not failed me (I was able to nail my solo line in all the Verdi Requiem ensembles) so it will not fail me now. A friend gave me an iPad, so I can put it on my dining table with my electronic keyboard and sing against various Youtube videos of the sections I need to learn. Of course I can read music. A very respected voice teacher gave a lecture about how instrumentalists laugh at singers who can't read music (I assume she was talking about nonclassical singers who don't read music at all.). What I can't do is sight sing because I don't know anything about chord structure. But I will master this. There are four measures that are very difficult, but I can feel myself on top of them already. The rest should be simple. I mean there have been times when we were singing a choral piece and I ended up being the only second soprano and I never had a problem.
What's also nice is that the solos are in the form of a quartet so everyone who wants a solo can have one. In one of the quartets I will be switched out for the other mezzo who wants a solo, which makes me very happy. When I was unhappy, it was never that I wanted all the good stuff for myself, it was that I wanted the good stuff distributed equitably.
What's sort of bittersweet is that (apparently) it seems that this meltdown that I had did some good. Afterwards I was embarrassed, because it looked like I got upset over a very small thing, but it was not over that one thing it was over something that had been brewing for a long time. Maybe the squeaky wheel truism is really, well, true?
Anyhow, it's now a new day, and I am praying now to be worthy of all the opportunities I have been blessed with.
Last night I sang Schubert's "Abendlied" in an evening church service, and it was well received. Someone may have made a video. I am not sure. And I had a nice conversation with the two choir directors about Schubert. I said I would be happy for more suggestions of lieder to sing. We discussed "Du Bist die Ruh" which I have in several keys. That would be nice for a church service because the "du" could be taken to mean "God".
That's really all I had been asking for. To have people believe that I have a future. If I am singing better at 64 than I ever did, there is an object lesson there somewhere.
I now have a very busy Good Friday, with several featured spots. I will be singing the Rossini "Agnus Dei" in the noon service, which I had agreed to do before I knew what was going to be going on with the evening service. Now I see that I will also be part of three of the solo quartets in the Dvorak Requiem at night. I am thrilled. There is nothing vocally demanding there (the most vocally demanding thing is one line in the soprano chorus part, which I am still singing, and which I know what to do with technically as I can sing it full voice). It is musically demanding, especially for me as someone who does not have a music theory background. But to date my ear has not failed me (I was able to nail my solo line in all the Verdi Requiem ensembles) so it will not fail me now. A friend gave me an iPad, so I can put it on my dining table with my electronic keyboard and sing against various Youtube videos of the sections I need to learn. Of course I can read music. A very respected voice teacher gave a lecture about how instrumentalists laugh at singers who can't read music (I assume she was talking about nonclassical singers who don't read music at all.). What I can't do is sight sing because I don't know anything about chord structure. But I will master this. There are four measures that are very difficult, but I can feel myself on top of them already. The rest should be simple. I mean there have been times when we were singing a choral piece and I ended up being the only second soprano and I never had a problem.
What's also nice is that the solos are in the form of a quartet so everyone who wants a solo can have one. In one of the quartets I will be switched out for the other mezzo who wants a solo, which makes me very happy. When I was unhappy, it was never that I wanted all the good stuff for myself, it was that I wanted the good stuff distributed equitably.
What's sort of bittersweet is that (apparently) it seems that this meltdown that I had did some good. Afterwards I was embarrassed, because it looked like I got upset over a very small thing, but it was not over that one thing it was over something that had been brewing for a long time. Maybe the squeaky wheel truism is really, well, true?
Anyhow, it's now a new day, and I am praying now to be worthy of all the opportunities I have been blessed with.
Last night I sang Schubert's "Abendlied" in an evening church service, and it was well received. Someone may have made a video. I am not sure. And I had a nice conversation with the two choir directors about Schubert. I said I would be happy for more suggestions of lieder to sing. We discussed "Du Bist die Ruh" which I have in several keys. That would be nice for a church service because the "du" could be taken to mean "God".
That's really all I had been asking for. To have people believe that I have a future. If I am singing better at 64 than I ever did, there is an object lesson there somewhere.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Looking Up! (And a Nod to Fifty Shades of Praise)
I now have a really exciting gig coming up!! I will be singing the Rossini "Agnus Dei" (aka the "sexy Agnus Dei") on Good Friday at noon. I have no idea how well attended that service will be (I sang once on Ash Wednesday at noon and it was fairly well attended although not as well attended as the night service with choir and orchestra) but I am looking forward to it nonetheless. This is something I have always dreamed of singing. It is one of those "big girl" oratorio pieces albeit one that does not go above an E natural, so I should have plenty of stamina left for singing soprano in the Dvorak Requiem at night.
And I will also be singing something (not positive what) in one of the Wednesday evening Lent services. The Director sent me a pdf of Schubert's "Abendlied" but it is in too high a key. I was not able to easily find it online in another key, so he said he would look and see if he could find it.
So overall things are looking up. My vocal progress continues.
As for the second half of this post, before I got the good news about my two gigs, I was going to post this anyhow, so, as it is a catchy title and I feel that I am "onto something" I want to append it here. This is not a complaint, really more of an observation, and I think it could apply to anyone or anything.
I have said that I feel often like a plant that is not watered because I don't get enough praise. I don't mean as a substitute for constructive criticism. These are not mutually exclusive and in fact often they don't come from the same people. So I tried to think of all the different kinds of praise and what they mean, and which ones I yearn for and am not getting. So OK, maybe there are not really fifty, probably ten.
1. Praise from a teacher or coach (at a lesson or session). This usually follows having worked on something in response to constructive criticism. It is praise that has to be earned. It is never given if it is not meant and it is usually given in private, in the context of a one on one session.
2. Praise after a performance (general). This is given (privately) from members of the audience. Sometimes it is heartfelt, sometimes it is just polite. Sometimes it is specific, and actually helpful. Sometimes it is extremely specific and has some constructive criticism thrown in, if the person giving feedback has musical knowledge, or has heard you before and knows your strengths and weaknesses.
3. Praise after a performance (friends and family). This could keep trickling in for several days after, in the form of a call or an email. Although there may be some constructive criticism interwoven, it can sometimes be taken with a grain of salt, as most of these people are not musically knowledgeable (e.g., there are people who think operatic singing sounds "screamy" even if you're singing well). Sometimes the constructive criticism pertains to things other than singing, and really can be helpful, such as "that was not a flattering dress; you should probably give it away and wear something else next time". Pretty much all of this is given in private, unless someone who heard you tells someone who didn't how great you sounded.
4. Praise after a performance (friends and family, the high tech version). This is something I do not get and younger people (like Little Miss) do. This can involve friends and family making videos of your performance and posting on their Facebook pages, your Facebook pages, and their entire friendslist's Facebook pages, combined with a lot of public kvelling.
5. Praise after a performance (teachers and coaches, the low tech version). This is not that dissimilar to 1, but as it is given after a performance, praise usually comes first, criticism later, unless something went terribly wrong. This again is usually a one-on-one exchange.
6. Praise after a performance (teachers and coaches, the high tech version). This is not that different from 4, except that a teacher or coach will be choosier about whom s/he sends the video to and where s/he posts it.
7. Praise after a performance (the afterglow of the buzz). This was what Little Miss's recital got, that my Carmen did not. What my mother would have called "the water cooler gossip". People still talking about your event for some time after it happened, to people who weren't there. This can include a bit of 4.
8. Praise in front of a group. This again is something I don't recall getting at all, which Little Miss got quite a bit of. This can run the gamut from a choir director or other authority figure saying "let's give __________a hand" to the group breaking into applause, to someone yelling "Go YM!!!" (I don't think anyone ever yelled "Go BabyD!!!" when I sang something louder and fuller, or sweeter and more properly in tune, or held a note longer than the group.)
9. Praise through giving one's imprimatur. I have gotten some of this, usually at my instigation, but not as much as others, or as I felt was my due. This can include someone's forwarding your e-flyers, reposting your Facebook invitations, or making an announcement inviting people to come "show their support". If you do this yourself, it does not serve the same purpose.
10. Praise through shared assumptions (which is particularly dangerous if those assumptions are, in fact, not shared). This again is something that Little Miss got a lot of that I did not, which triggered my meltdown a few weeks ago. This rubric includes things such as "oh, don't worry, _________ will be here Sunday" or buzzing around someone making them feel (and signaling to everyone else) that they are sui generis because their presence or absence can make or break a piece of music. Setting up a situation where one person is acknowledged to be the "star" of a group and everyone is OK with it because most of the other people, although hardworking, are not that serious about the whole thing (which of course is deadly if there are other "star" contenders). But for the "star" it's a nice feeling to have. That's you're the Queen Bee. In one venue anyhow. Definitely on my "bucket list". (Then you need to make sure you're still getting the constructive criticism and tweaking and perfecting you need so you don't "rust" on your laurels, as it were.)
And now it's time to go practice!! I'm so excited about diving into the "Agnus Dei".
And I will also be singing something (not positive what) in one of the Wednesday evening Lent services. The Director sent me a pdf of Schubert's "Abendlied" but it is in too high a key. I was not able to easily find it online in another key, so he said he would look and see if he could find it.
So overall things are looking up. My vocal progress continues.
As for the second half of this post, before I got the good news about my two gigs, I was going to post this anyhow, so, as it is a catchy title and I feel that I am "onto something" I want to append it here. This is not a complaint, really more of an observation, and I think it could apply to anyone or anything.
I have said that I feel often like a plant that is not watered because I don't get enough praise. I don't mean as a substitute for constructive criticism. These are not mutually exclusive and in fact often they don't come from the same people. So I tried to think of all the different kinds of praise and what they mean, and which ones I yearn for and am not getting. So OK, maybe there are not really fifty, probably ten.
1. Praise from a teacher or coach (at a lesson or session). This usually follows having worked on something in response to constructive criticism. It is praise that has to be earned. It is never given if it is not meant and it is usually given in private, in the context of a one on one session.
2. Praise after a performance (general). This is given (privately) from members of the audience. Sometimes it is heartfelt, sometimes it is just polite. Sometimes it is specific, and actually helpful. Sometimes it is extremely specific and has some constructive criticism thrown in, if the person giving feedback has musical knowledge, or has heard you before and knows your strengths and weaknesses.
3. Praise after a performance (friends and family). This could keep trickling in for several days after, in the form of a call or an email. Although there may be some constructive criticism interwoven, it can sometimes be taken with a grain of salt, as most of these people are not musically knowledgeable (e.g., there are people who think operatic singing sounds "screamy" even if you're singing well). Sometimes the constructive criticism pertains to things other than singing, and really can be helpful, such as "that was not a flattering dress; you should probably give it away and wear something else next time". Pretty much all of this is given in private, unless someone who heard you tells someone who didn't how great you sounded.
4. Praise after a performance (friends and family, the high tech version). This is something I do not get and younger people (like Little Miss) do. This can involve friends and family making videos of your performance and posting on their Facebook pages, your Facebook pages, and their entire friendslist's Facebook pages, combined with a lot of public kvelling.
5. Praise after a performance (teachers and coaches, the low tech version). This is not that dissimilar to 1, but as it is given after a performance, praise usually comes first, criticism later, unless something went terribly wrong. This again is usually a one-on-one exchange.
6. Praise after a performance (teachers and coaches, the high tech version). This is not that different from 4, except that a teacher or coach will be choosier about whom s/he sends the video to and where s/he posts it.
7. Praise after a performance (the afterglow of the buzz). This was what Little Miss's recital got, that my Carmen did not. What my mother would have called "the water cooler gossip". People still talking about your event for some time after it happened, to people who weren't there. This can include a bit of 4.
8. Praise in front of a group. This again is something I don't recall getting at all, which Little Miss got quite a bit of. This can run the gamut from a choir director or other authority figure saying "let's give __________a hand" to the group breaking into applause, to someone yelling "Go YM!!!" (I don't think anyone ever yelled "Go BabyD!!!" when I sang something louder and fuller, or sweeter and more properly in tune, or held a note longer than the group.)
9. Praise through giving one's imprimatur. I have gotten some of this, usually at my instigation, but not as much as others, or as I felt was my due. This can include someone's forwarding your e-flyers, reposting your Facebook invitations, or making an announcement inviting people to come "show their support". If you do this yourself, it does not serve the same purpose.
10. Praise through shared assumptions (which is particularly dangerous if those assumptions are, in fact, not shared). This again is something that Little Miss got a lot of that I did not, which triggered my meltdown a few weeks ago. This rubric includes things such as "oh, don't worry, _________ will be here Sunday" or buzzing around someone making them feel (and signaling to everyone else) that they are sui generis because their presence or absence can make or break a piece of music. Setting up a situation where one person is acknowledged to be the "star" of a group and everyone is OK with it because most of the other people, although hardworking, are not that serious about the whole thing (which of course is deadly if there are other "star" contenders). But for the "star" it's a nice feeling to have. That's you're the Queen Bee. In one venue anyhow. Definitely on my "bucket list". (Then you need to make sure you're still getting the constructive criticism and tweaking and perfecting you need so you don't "rust" on your laurels, as it were.)
And now it's time to go practice!! I'm so excited about diving into the "Agnus Dei".
Thursday, March 5, 2015
A Broken Resolve, Sort Of
I know I had promised, as a Lenten discipline, not to complain, but if I am feeling despondent, it is better to turn bad feelings into a (good) piece of writing than to have them whirling around in my head.
First, I want to say that I am so, so, so happy with all the technical progress I keep making. After years of getting stuck on various plateaus and thinking that certain problems were insurmountable, suddenly, some time last year, everything took off. And the progress continues. Not to repeat things I've already said, but I think it began with my dealing with my bunged up postnasal area, not just by using the Neti pot, but by being aware that that whole area was constricted and that I did not lift my soft palate when I sang. Then after years of work, the "gag reflex" that stubbornly kicked in when I tried to sing above an A natural began to disappear. Dare I say that I now may have a performance ready B flat? That I could open my mouth and sing? It sill requires me to make certain "gestures", to physicalize it (I am not sure if that is the proper term) but I didn't used to be able to do it at all. And I can easily sing arpeggios up to a high C. And with all that, the middle and bottom of my voice has gotten bigger and darker. And I have learned (I hope!) a trick of how to "bounce" my abdominal muscles to hold on to high notes so everything doesn't go rigid and cause the note to first get "straight" and then be unsustainable.
I have been sailing through the Giovanna Seymour scene and have revisited Laura's aria from Gioconda (a staple of my repertoire since the first time I sang, which on the one hand is easy but on the other is full of bad habits) and it sounds completely different.
And I can hear it in choir rehearsals as well. Usually when we sing a big piece on Good Friday I end up singing alto but this time we are doing excerpts from the Dvorak Requiem in which, at least so far, the soprano line is tailor made for a dramatic mezzo (lots of Es Fs and Gs at the top of the staff marked "FF"). So I am singing in the soprano section. If I can sing with my real voice I will be fine and won't get tired.
I still don't know whether or not I will sing in the Spanish afternoon service. They may not be using music at all. If they will be, however, I think I will sing. I have two possible ideas: the Rossini "Agnus Dei" (aka the "sexy Agnus Dei") or the "Qui Sedes" from the Vivaldi Gloria 588. Neither of them is high, although the Rossini is long.
So, you are asking, where are the complaints?
Well, first of all, as it has taken me all these years to even have the beginnings of a decent technique that I can rely on throughout my range, I have not tried to "polish" myself. So I sing with a music stand, looking like a statue (although I always remember to smile when I am not actually singing) or, once in a blue moon, I sing something non-churchly, in which instance I look awkward and nervous. Even if I am not a "basket case" the fact that I am nervous comes through in how I use my body; namely, as an aide to breath support or opening everything up for high notes.
So why am I thinking about this again? I made the very stupid mistake of looking at "Little Miss"'s Facebook page. I mean even though she always shows up as a "person I might know" and even though I have other choir members as "friends" whom I don't know any better than I know her, it's always, like, no thanks. So there was a video of her singing in a masterclass with a prestigious teacher at her prestigious conservatory (I don't know what she was singing, it was something in English that was not identified) and there were posts telling her what a star she was, that she was real star material, and yes, her vocal technique and her way of moving and presenting herself on the stage were totally perfect and she's bloody 23!!!!
Normally, these demographics in and of themselves would not bother me. I have watched Master Class videos before. But those are people I don't know. This young woman is on my turf, in my choir, sucking up endless paeans of praise (from the sublime to the silly), swanning in and out to be the "descant" of a piece when we've all been there slaving on Wednesday nights, and it is just all too much.
So I feel sad. My therapist hinted that it might be better to feel sad than to feel angry, but so, OK, now I feel both like crying and like throwing a chair through a window.
I mean so what I have is my pitiful (and begged for) video of "Et Exsultavit". There are so many things wrong with it, even though I know I sound better than I ever have singing that piece. It is not polished. It is not equivalent. No one gives a flying fig about it, except my voice teacher who told me, yes, I sounded much better than the last time I had sung that, and then gave me some constructive criticism that was helpful. A few months ago a friend gave me an iPad (I don't want to get into too much detail here) and I am going to buy a "tripod" for it so that I can videotape myself. (This, of course, will also require that I practice while decently dressed with makeup on, which I usually don't, as I spend about 75% of my life working at home in pajamas.)
I just don't know where to go, where I can still sing regularly, but get away from this. I sound good enough now that actually it astounds me that there is not some small puddle where people have less training, yet still want to sing, where I can be the "special one". Maybe the Alzheimers chorus (and I am not referencing the fact that I don't have Alzheimers; neither do half the people in that chorus as it is made up of pairs of patients and their caregivers). We are still on target for auditioning for them after Easter.
Actually, to clarify, I don't think I would be that bothered if there were someone in the choir who sang better and was much more polished who was, well, 40!!! Then I could use that person as some sort of mentor and she would probably be happy to be in that sort of role. (There is a man who somewhat fits that description but he is obviously only interested in conservatory students and has never given me even so much as the time of day, certainly not about my singing.) Then it would be a win-win situation all around.
To be fair, "Little Miss" is not stuck up and is very sweet. I guess people think she's cute. She's 23 and looks about 15 (although she has a big voice, not a light piping one). I guess no one kvells over you when you're a few months away from Medicare. Unless that person is very very special and very very savvy.
First, I want to say that I am so, so, so happy with all the technical progress I keep making. After years of getting stuck on various plateaus and thinking that certain problems were insurmountable, suddenly, some time last year, everything took off. And the progress continues. Not to repeat things I've already said, but I think it began with my dealing with my bunged up postnasal area, not just by using the Neti pot, but by being aware that that whole area was constricted and that I did not lift my soft palate when I sang. Then after years of work, the "gag reflex" that stubbornly kicked in when I tried to sing above an A natural began to disappear. Dare I say that I now may have a performance ready B flat? That I could open my mouth and sing? It sill requires me to make certain "gestures", to physicalize it (I am not sure if that is the proper term) but I didn't used to be able to do it at all. And I can easily sing arpeggios up to a high C. And with all that, the middle and bottom of my voice has gotten bigger and darker. And I have learned (I hope!) a trick of how to "bounce" my abdominal muscles to hold on to high notes so everything doesn't go rigid and cause the note to first get "straight" and then be unsustainable.
I have been sailing through the Giovanna Seymour scene and have revisited Laura's aria from Gioconda (a staple of my repertoire since the first time I sang, which on the one hand is easy but on the other is full of bad habits) and it sounds completely different.
And I can hear it in choir rehearsals as well. Usually when we sing a big piece on Good Friday I end up singing alto but this time we are doing excerpts from the Dvorak Requiem in which, at least so far, the soprano line is tailor made for a dramatic mezzo (lots of Es Fs and Gs at the top of the staff marked "FF"). So I am singing in the soprano section. If I can sing with my real voice I will be fine and won't get tired.
I still don't know whether or not I will sing in the Spanish afternoon service. They may not be using music at all. If they will be, however, I think I will sing. I have two possible ideas: the Rossini "Agnus Dei" (aka the "sexy Agnus Dei") or the "Qui Sedes" from the Vivaldi Gloria 588. Neither of them is high, although the Rossini is long.
So, you are asking, where are the complaints?
Well, first of all, as it has taken me all these years to even have the beginnings of a decent technique that I can rely on throughout my range, I have not tried to "polish" myself. So I sing with a music stand, looking like a statue (although I always remember to smile when I am not actually singing) or, once in a blue moon, I sing something non-churchly, in which instance I look awkward and nervous. Even if I am not a "basket case" the fact that I am nervous comes through in how I use my body; namely, as an aide to breath support or opening everything up for high notes.
So why am I thinking about this again? I made the very stupid mistake of looking at "Little Miss"'s Facebook page. I mean even though she always shows up as a "person I might know" and even though I have other choir members as "friends" whom I don't know any better than I know her, it's always, like, no thanks. So there was a video of her singing in a masterclass with a prestigious teacher at her prestigious conservatory (I don't know what she was singing, it was something in English that was not identified) and there were posts telling her what a star she was, that she was real star material, and yes, her vocal technique and her way of moving and presenting herself on the stage were totally perfect and she's bloody 23!!!!
Normally, these demographics in and of themselves would not bother me. I have watched Master Class videos before. But those are people I don't know. This young woman is on my turf, in my choir, sucking up endless paeans of praise (from the sublime to the silly), swanning in and out to be the "descant" of a piece when we've all been there slaving on Wednesday nights, and it is just all too much.
So I feel sad. My therapist hinted that it might be better to feel sad than to feel angry, but so, OK, now I feel both like crying and like throwing a chair through a window.
I mean so what I have is my pitiful (and begged for) video of "Et Exsultavit". There are so many things wrong with it, even though I know I sound better than I ever have singing that piece. It is not polished. It is not equivalent. No one gives a flying fig about it, except my voice teacher who told me, yes, I sounded much better than the last time I had sung that, and then gave me some constructive criticism that was helpful. A few months ago a friend gave me an iPad (I don't want to get into too much detail here) and I am going to buy a "tripod" for it so that I can videotape myself. (This, of course, will also require that I practice while decently dressed with makeup on, which I usually don't, as I spend about 75% of my life working at home in pajamas.)
I just don't know where to go, where I can still sing regularly, but get away from this. I sound good enough now that actually it astounds me that there is not some small puddle where people have less training, yet still want to sing, where I can be the "special one". Maybe the Alzheimers chorus (and I am not referencing the fact that I don't have Alzheimers; neither do half the people in that chorus as it is made up of pairs of patients and their caregivers). We are still on target for auditioning for them after Easter.
Actually, to clarify, I don't think I would be that bothered if there were someone in the choir who sang better and was much more polished who was, well, 40!!! Then I could use that person as some sort of mentor and she would probably be happy to be in that sort of role. (There is a man who somewhat fits that description but he is obviously only interested in conservatory students and has never given me even so much as the time of day, certainly not about my singing.) Then it would be a win-win situation all around.
To be fair, "Little Miss" is not stuck up and is very sweet. I guess people think she's cute. She's 23 and looks about 15 (although she has a big voice, not a light piping one). I guess no one kvells over you when you're a few months away from Medicare. Unless that person is very very special and very very savvy.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Superachievers and Serotonin
This post really isn't about singing. It's about me, my partner, our relationship, and the choices I made long ago that seem so at odds with the priorities of the younger generation (I mean the "older" younger generation; women who are now between the ages of 35 and 45).
I addressed some of it here.
This weekend, I had a mini-showdown with my partner. I was very proud of myself because I didn't lose my temper, which was one of my New Year's resolutions. I did, however, say something that she found very hurtful. I don't regret it, because I didn't say it to be hurtful; I said it because it is true and needed to be said.
Several months ago, I finally was able to unravel an emotional mystery that had had me stumped for almost four decades; namely, how could my partner and I love each other so much and yet have so many ugly screaming fights? What I realized, was that although we had been many things to each other - lovers, sweethearts, cuddles, mutual children, mutual mommies, and, more recently, caregiver and patient - I don't think that we had ever been friends.
Over the weekend, for the umpteenth time, she tried to shut me up when I was talking about how I was feeling. Not about anything "loaded" that had to do with "us", just something I was feeling, which I felt entitled to mention as she had just mentioned a situation in which she had had feelings that I perceived to be similar.
So I said to her, more or less what I have written here. That although I loved her, we were not friends. I also said that everything that was wrong with our relationship, even though we have adored each other in one sense or another for almost 40 years, is that our relationship started out as a romance, not a friendship, so that secure base was never there. Yes, of course we have interests in common, not just an aesthetic attraction to each other (which runs much deeper than just a sexual attraction), but we can't seem to talk, about anything in a comfortable relaxed way. Or when we do, it's a pleasant surprise. Then she got into a "state" about how I had hurt her feelings, so I said "I am proud of myself that I didn't lose my temper. But what I said is true. And in fact, another problem with our relationship is that there are just too many emotions in it, good and bad."
Although it seems a stretch, there is a throughline between that interchange, that knowledge, and the flawed basis for our relationship (not that it is necessarily a more flawed relationship that many others, just that it never had a secure base) and all of my envy of this bevy of superachievers, mostly women born after 1970, that I feel subsumed by and diminished by.
When I was growing up, the most important thing for a girl (or young woman) to have was a boyfriend/lover/fiance, or whatever. In my case, because I have always been a girly girl who nonethless seemed to prefer women, it was a butch-beau. Part and parcel of that was not just sex and lust (acted out or not), but sturm and drang. I would say that between the ages of 14 and 30, whether I was drunk or sober, "virgin" or sexually active, probably 75% of my emotional energy went into the vagaries of whatever relationship I was involved in. And that was true of most of my female friends as well, Lesbian or straight. School was something to be suffered through, for the most part. Most of us planned to go to college, but in New York, with a certain GPA and SAT score, you could go to one of the City Colleges, no questions asked. There was not this mad scramble to add things (school orchestra or newspaper, volunteer work, or advanced placement immersion classes) to a college admissions resume, and really no one thought about "careers". Being a teacher was about it. Or if not a teacher, some kind of secretary or administrative assistant in an "interesting" industry until, well, what, we got married? Even if we didn't plan to get married, we didn't plan all that much else, really.
This new breed of women are completely different. First of all, they were the first generation to transition from adolescence to adulthood with certain feminist assumptions in place. They wanted to be doctors, lawyers, MBAs. They probably had as much sex (or as little) as the women of my generation but the vocabulary of limerence played very little role in their interactions, thoughts, or fantasies. Hence their emotions were not constantly engaged. And when they got older, situated in these careers (or ones they designed themselves, which required several additional decades of formal or informal schooling - on whose money?) it was much of the same. They married a "partner" not a "lover" and certainly not anyone who kept them on the kind of emotional roller coaster that, for women of my generation, was in some ways the whole point of relationships to begin with.
In Sundays' TIMES, there was this article. One thing I will say about myself, is that I would prefer to withstand a fair amount of physical and mental discomfort rather than "take something". (I am not talking about symptoms that might be life threatening - for example I take blood pressure medicine.) And I am very very grateful that my therapist has never offered me any psychotropic medication, even when I am down in the dumps or distraught. (She - and an online quiz - have assured me that I am not depressed in the clinical sense.)
But after reading the article, I started wondering: are all these superachievers medicated to stay "perky", energetic, ambitious, and, well, "strictly business, nothing personal", not just in how they handle high power careers, but how this carries over into the kinds of relationships they choose or don't choose? It's the right demographic. Women who are approaching or in prime middle age. The article said that one out of four women in this age group are taking something. (Actually it included the age group that is slightly older as well, but I see these behaviors more in women born after 1970).
I mean this is not a new concern. this seems to have been around for quite some time.
Hmmm....
I addressed some of it here.
This weekend, I had a mini-showdown with my partner. I was very proud of myself because I didn't lose my temper, which was one of my New Year's resolutions. I did, however, say something that she found very hurtful. I don't regret it, because I didn't say it to be hurtful; I said it because it is true and needed to be said.
Several months ago, I finally was able to unravel an emotional mystery that had had me stumped for almost four decades; namely, how could my partner and I love each other so much and yet have so many ugly screaming fights? What I realized, was that although we had been many things to each other - lovers, sweethearts, cuddles, mutual children, mutual mommies, and, more recently, caregiver and patient - I don't think that we had ever been friends.
Over the weekend, for the umpteenth time, she tried to shut me up when I was talking about how I was feeling. Not about anything "loaded" that had to do with "us", just something I was feeling, which I felt entitled to mention as she had just mentioned a situation in which she had had feelings that I perceived to be similar.
So I said to her, more or less what I have written here. That although I loved her, we were not friends. I also said that everything that was wrong with our relationship, even though we have adored each other in one sense or another for almost 40 years, is that our relationship started out as a romance, not a friendship, so that secure base was never there. Yes, of course we have interests in common, not just an aesthetic attraction to each other (which runs much deeper than just a sexual attraction), but we can't seem to talk, about anything in a comfortable relaxed way. Or when we do, it's a pleasant surprise. Then she got into a "state" about how I had hurt her feelings, so I said "I am proud of myself that I didn't lose my temper. But what I said is true. And in fact, another problem with our relationship is that there are just too many emotions in it, good and bad."
Although it seems a stretch, there is a throughline between that interchange, that knowledge, and the flawed basis for our relationship (not that it is necessarily a more flawed relationship that many others, just that it never had a secure base) and all of my envy of this bevy of superachievers, mostly women born after 1970, that I feel subsumed by and diminished by.
When I was growing up, the most important thing for a girl (or young woman) to have was a boyfriend/lover/fiance, or whatever. In my case, because I have always been a girly girl who nonethless seemed to prefer women, it was a butch-beau. Part and parcel of that was not just sex and lust (acted out or not), but sturm and drang. I would say that between the ages of 14 and 30, whether I was drunk or sober, "virgin" or sexually active, probably 75% of my emotional energy went into the vagaries of whatever relationship I was involved in. And that was true of most of my female friends as well, Lesbian or straight. School was something to be suffered through, for the most part. Most of us planned to go to college, but in New York, with a certain GPA and SAT score, you could go to one of the City Colleges, no questions asked. There was not this mad scramble to add things (school orchestra or newspaper, volunteer work, or advanced placement immersion classes) to a college admissions resume, and really no one thought about "careers". Being a teacher was about it. Or if not a teacher, some kind of secretary or administrative assistant in an "interesting" industry until, well, what, we got married? Even if we didn't plan to get married, we didn't plan all that much else, really.
This new breed of women are completely different. First of all, they were the first generation to transition from adolescence to adulthood with certain feminist assumptions in place. They wanted to be doctors, lawyers, MBAs. They probably had as much sex (or as little) as the women of my generation but the vocabulary of limerence played very little role in their interactions, thoughts, or fantasies. Hence their emotions were not constantly engaged. And when they got older, situated in these careers (or ones they designed themselves, which required several additional decades of formal or informal schooling - on whose money?) it was much of the same. They married a "partner" not a "lover" and certainly not anyone who kept them on the kind of emotional roller coaster that, for women of my generation, was in some ways the whole point of relationships to begin with.
In Sundays' TIMES, there was this article. One thing I will say about myself, is that I would prefer to withstand a fair amount of physical and mental discomfort rather than "take something". (I am not talking about symptoms that might be life threatening - for example I take blood pressure medicine.) And I am very very grateful that my therapist has never offered me any psychotropic medication, even when I am down in the dumps or distraught. (She - and an online quiz - have assured me that I am not depressed in the clinical sense.)
But after reading the article, I started wondering: are all these superachievers medicated to stay "perky", energetic, ambitious, and, well, "strictly business, nothing personal", not just in how they handle high power careers, but how this carries over into the kinds of relationships they choose or don't choose? It's the right demographic. Women who are approaching or in prime middle age. The article said that one out of four women in this age group are taking something. (Actually it included the age group that is slightly older as well, but I see these behaviors more in women born after 1970).
I mean this is not a new concern. this seems to have been around for quite some time.
Hmmm....
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