A Dream Achieved (2018)

This past Good Friday I sang a two page solo "Recordare" in the middle of the "Rex Tremendae" section of Schumann's Requiem.  It was perfect for my voice and the choir director was happy with it.  All I have ever sung on Good Friday in the past (Good Friday is the church's most high profile service, with an orchestra) is the alto line in a solo quartet.  And (totally by accident) this was the only solo of the evening.

The night before I had sung "Qui Sedes al Dexteram Patris" from Vivaldi's Gloria 588.

I got compliments on both from people who would rarely even give me the time of day before.

I need to keep up that momentum and build on that, such as it is.

Next challenge: Rossini's "Tanti Affetti".  If it is in decent shape by next week I will include it in my May recital program, otherwise not.

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.

A Lovely Night, Some Pictures, and an Attempt to Build a Bulwark against Post-Performance Depression

The concert last night was a lovely occasion.  For the most part, I think I sang well, certainly the aria from Handel's Joshua.  That is the type of thing I sing really well: fast moving in an upper middle register with no sustained high notes.  I am going to try to see if I can sing it as a summer anthem next year.

The place was full, so even though only one of the people I personally invited actually came, I was not disappointed by the turnout.  The purpose of this concert is to provide solace on that day for people living in the building.  I wish more of them had come to Carmen, but that's water under the bridge.

One of the women in the audience even asked me if I had sung at the Met!!! That's the type of audience I need to find more of.  People who love classical music but don't know all that much about it.  My friends, unfortunately, are only going to come to these things to hear me and be supportive.  If they want to hear music, they know, in this huge city full of free events, where to find it.  I think next time I do something big I have to find a new marketing strategy, and the market is not going to be the people who come to the chamber music series at the church, it has to be a different segment.

One great thing that happened is I made friends with a lovely soprano (actually, she had sung Micaela's aria at one of the living room events where I sang the duet from Carmen with my tenor, and she had actually been my first choice for Micaela) and we are going to work on the Aida/Amneris duet together.  I am dying to sing that again.  I know I sing it very well; the last time I sang it in public I didn't because I was in a room where the air conditioner had not been cleaned properly.

Technically I continue to make huge breakthroughs.  (I hesitate to write about technique here because I can say one thing works and there will always be someone telling me to do the opposite.)  I finally (think I) know what to do to open my mouth and sing a high B flat off the cuff.  It really is about lowering my larynx as my teacher always said, but I can't do that (apparently) by yawning or anything else that's "gentle".  I have to push it down by making a (silent) "woofy" "h" sound and then sing the note.  Most of my problems with high singing (I finally figured out) are the result of my having an involuntary "gag" reflex that kicks in.  My teacher said a lot of people who start singing when they're older have that problem because the muscles that make a big pharyngeal space are not flexible in older people.  These are not muscles that people use who are not singing, unlike abdominal muscles, which some people who are not singers do use.

In any event, I need to find something asap to ward off post-performance depression.  It hit me particularly hard after Carmen because I thought the concert producer was angry that I didn't bring in more people (and I was deeply disappointed by this - see previous paragraphs).  Also that month was the month of "Little Miss Conservatory's" senior recital and that was what everyone in the choir was buzzing about and I was aware that people who wouldn't have been caught dead at any concert I threw together went to see and hear that.

So next up is to look at the Bach piece we are singing for Reformation Sunday and see if it is part of a larger work with an alto solo.  And pick something for Advent.

To finish on an upbeat note, here are some pictures.  The one in the church is of me singing "Erfreute Zeit" and the other is of me and the lovely soprano, before last night's concert.

In Memoriam

I haven't written for a while, and was hoping to post something more upbeat, but in a way, this is, because it is acknowledging someone whose respect and support meant a lot to me.

One morning, after I had been singing at the Lutheran church for a year or so, after singing Mozart's "Laudate dominum", an elderly man, whom I had heard playing the violin (brilliantly) in a number of services came up to me and said "There's a voice that can carry in a 3000 seat opera house!"  which totally astounded me, as I had been singing pianissimo.  When he told me he was a retired violinist from the New York City Opera I was even more astounded and flattered.

After that, we "performed" several pieces in services (the "Laudamus te" from the Bach B Minor Mass and "Domine Deus" from the Vivaldi Gloria).  We were going to perform the Bach cantata "Erfreute Zeit" when his eyesight and memory began failing.  He never played again after that summer.

I knew that he did not have long, and when I heard that he was in the hospital with pneumonia I had hoped to visit him, but then this morning the church's Pastor posted on Facebook that he had died.

I don't want to link to his real name here, because for now, anyhow, I don't want people from the church who might "google" him to link back to this blog, although I am sure some of them already read it.

I miss this man for loving reasons and for selfish ones: he was part of my beginnings at the church when  the trained musicians were fewer, and we were older.  It was a golden age, never to come again, I suppose, and I should be grateful for having had it.

In other news, last night I had the first rehearsal of the Carmen duet with the tenor and the pianist.  It was a little raggedy, but he has a magnificent voice, and is a superb actor as well.  I love losing myself in the drama.  This is where I am happy: singing (preferably something with no scary climactic high notes), acting, fussing over a costume and props, thinking about accuracy of time and place...

And the red shoes, which I wore at the Strand, totally rock.