AS for Saturday, well, it's behind me, and sufficed to say: I crashed and burned on my aria and wanted to kill myself. I don't care what anybody says. O mio babbino is a bitch from hell. It is really deadly sometimes. And especially when you're hormonally challenged. Tonight, I'm going back again to sing it and try to do better work. Post traumatic stress disorder dot com.
So that was that drama.
And on into the fray of the battle of the endless question of: What the fach? What in the heck should Jess be singing, because I'll be darned if everyone and their brother doesn't have a totally different opinion. Actually not a totally different opinion-- the same one. Sing bigger stuff. Sing the lighter stuff. And so, the endless see-saw of my vocal drama tilts back and forth.
Yesterday I did a master class in New York that I really enjoyed, and got some great feedback. The master class technician liked me, and had good things to say, but expressed surprise when she saw my rep list. Too light. Then told me the kinds of things she'd really like to hear me singing.
The real problem is: I don't know in my own heart what's right for my voice. If I knew, or had a strong feeling either way, I'd be fine with just doing what I felt, and to hell with everyone else. The next few weeks, I'm going to focus on figuring this out. We haven't got much time before audition season and all hell breaks loose.