Writing about my vocal journey this week has made me think even more about it. It is amazing to me that I could spend more time thinking about my voice than I already do—it is constantly on my mind! Remember when I said that I was manipulating my voice to sound like what I wanted it to sound like to myself, inside my own head? It made me think about why I felt I needed to do that, and what the influences have been in life that have taken me from the pure, real, efficient sound I made as a crying baby, to the “sensitive artist” I thought I was being!
Think about the sounds humans find irresistible, that they have a visceral response to: a a baby's cry, a belly laugh, a scream, and a gorgeous singing voice.
Then I started to think how our society reacts to noise. Since we’re on the crying baby thing, take that: from the first moment the crying starts, the parents spend all their time trying to figure out how to get the baby to stop crying. A lot of us grew up being told quite a lot to stop making so much noise. Making a lot of noise, whether it’s with happy sounds or not so happy sounds, doesn’t really go over well. Especially for women. A diminuitive tone is widely considered attractive by men, and appropriate by older women, fathers, grandmothers, you name it. People went to hear operas and paid other people to be loud for them, so that they could feel the feeling and have the catharsis with out embarrassing themselves with the impropriety of it all. Learning to sing opera, I am still in the process of retraining my thoughts about how loud and how fabulous it is actually "okay" for me to be.
The other piece of this for our generation has been recordings complete with fancy editing and mixing. Listening to any classical singer’s latest recording, you might think that she has the lung capacity of a gorilla. No one has to breathe, no one is ever out of tune, there is no way to tell if you can really hear her over the orchestra, you could make a recording of the Vier Letze Lieder with a full Strauss orchestra and be perfectly viable even if you were singing off your voice the entire time. It has introduced a whole other idea of what voices are supposed to sound like. We have less and less affordable chances to hear live singing with acoustic forces and no amplification. We rarely have the chance to stand next to a formidable phonator and really hear what that kind of singing sounds and feels and looks like.
Electronically enhanced singing, whether in an arena with Katy Perry, or a recording with Renee Fleming is electronically enhanced nonetheless. It isn't the real thing. Since at least eighty percent of my youthful concept of what singing was comes from recordings, my ear trained itself to imitate sounds like these in my own singing. I started to think there was something wrong with me if singing required any effort at all, or if I produced a sound that was raw and primal. My idea of singing was that it was supposed to be something highly refined, highly precious. My teacher told me this: The resonant sounds we make are not refined, really, at all, although if it is being produced properly, hopefully it won't sound ugly, but slender and agile. We use our primal voices in the service of very refined music, but it is not for the voice itself to be precious in this way. Everything that is not our pure, clear, real voice is imitation and learned behavior.
Only recently have I stopped noting to myself as I practiced: “Damn, that note kind of sounded like Freni! Yes, finally!!” or “I need to get these low notes to sound more like Verrett’s.” It doesn’t dawn on me to compare myself to people, because I am not manipulating to sound like them. I know that the only healthy and resonant way is to sound like me, and there really is not much I can do about it. Freni and Verrett were singing like themselves, and that's why I love them! They have what no one else can have: their own unique sound.
Which is why what my teacher said is so true: The journey to the voice is the journey to self. What we do when we study in this way, is to try to get back to the essential US, pre-imitation of our mothers and fathers, the recordings that we listened to, and pre-cow-towing to the pressures of societal norms. It is learning to say: Who I am and what I sound like is okay, it is impossible to be like anyone else without hurting myself.
A truly authentic voice, like a truly authentic person (and so often they exist in the same body), is truly irresistible.
All dressed up and everywhere to go
Friday, March 30, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Resonant Singing=True Voice
I've spent a lot of time in my career as a professional voice student :) studying vowel shapes and forward and back and laryngeal positions and tongue flexibility and support, et al. And maybe all of those things are ways of getting good resonance and efficient phonation, but I never thought of it in that way. I thought of each issue addressed by my teachers as a different rung on the ladder of vocal technique that I had to master. That when all things came together: Pow. I would be amazing. When I look back I realize that they were all right. Each teacher gave me something invaluable to carry in my vocal bag of tricks, ways of hearing myself, musicianship, sensitivity, self-confidence, and the list could really go on forever.
Maybe it is because of all this coming together in my brain (finally, I am a bit of a late bloomer) that I am starting to realize that all of these things come together perfectly with efficient phonation, and what results is resonant singing. I never knew how to consistently resonate on each note until very recently. What I was doing to get the sound I wanted on one note threw another note off, and I had what sounded like a person going on and off their sound multiple times in a single phrase. It was a painful lesson to learn, and to be confronted with this reality, (again I sometimes wonder why I am compelled to keep writing this stuff on the internet, but maybe my abject honesty will help somebody sometime beside myself), but when the light turned on, it really turned on, and I realized I had the muscle coordination already in place to do this consistently—I just hadn’t known how to use it! I was singing in a way that made me feel like I could control each note, and I manipulated them to sound like what I wanted them to sound like to me inside my own head, which we all know, is not what we really sound like! But outside of a boomy church, bathroom, or stairwell, I wouldn’t have been consistently heard. I think people could hear that maybe the innate quality of my voice, when it came through on the odd note or phrase that was efficiently produced, by accident, really, was attractive, and that was why I got some gigs.
I had gotten really really good at manipulating consistently. I had taken all of the wonderful lessons I’d learned from each teacher and all the different parts had never come together to make a whole voice. This teacher’s E vowel, this teacher’s concept of an AH vowel, this idea of support, this idea of how to navigate the passagio, how to strengthen this part of my range, this idea of what singing soft means, this idea of coloratura, or what rep I should sing, of what rep I shouldn’t sing. And rep choices especially were completely irrelevant in light of the fact that whether a voice sounds large, small, broad, slender, if you can’t hear them in the hall, if they don’t have squillo or core, it doesn’t matter what rep they bring to auditions.
I now know how to work towards having that efficiency of phonation on every note in my range. I now also know that my voice isn’t in parts. It’s not the low, the middle, the passaggi, the high. It’s all one thing, and that sound does not have to change to accommodate each section of my voice—I don’t have to be afraid of singing too intensely in my low or my high, and I don’t have to take monster breaths to prepare for what scares me: aka my passagio! When I am singing with efficient phonation, I don’t need to over-stuff with breath, everything automatically does what it is supposed to do. It is almost as if my passagio as I know it no longer exists.
When I am practicing in this way, it doesn’t always sound so mellifluous inside my head as I listen to myself. But I realize that what I thought I liked before inside my head wasn’t working. It didn’t sound right to the people listening to me, and when the overtones are all vibrating in there, it can be downright intense. It also turned on another light: when I stop manipulating and start phonating properly, I am no longer presenting to an audience only what I want them to hear.
They are hearing what I really sound like.
This is both horrifying and liberating all at once.
Maybe it is because of all this coming together in my brain (finally, I am a bit of a late bloomer) that I am starting to realize that all of these things come together perfectly with efficient phonation, and what results is resonant singing. I never knew how to consistently resonate on each note until very recently. What I was doing to get the sound I wanted on one note threw another note off, and I had what sounded like a person going on and off their sound multiple times in a single phrase. It was a painful lesson to learn, and to be confronted with this reality, (again I sometimes wonder why I am compelled to keep writing this stuff on the internet, but maybe my abject honesty will help somebody sometime beside myself), but when the light turned on, it really turned on, and I realized I had the muscle coordination already in place to do this consistently—I just hadn’t known how to use it! I was singing in a way that made me feel like I could control each note, and I manipulated them to sound like what I wanted them to sound like to me inside my own head, which we all know, is not what we really sound like! But outside of a boomy church, bathroom, or stairwell, I wouldn’t have been consistently heard. I think people could hear that maybe the innate quality of my voice, when it came through on the odd note or phrase that was efficiently produced, by accident, really, was attractive, and that was why I got some gigs.
I had gotten really really good at manipulating consistently. I had taken all of the wonderful lessons I’d learned from each teacher and all the different parts had never come together to make a whole voice. This teacher’s E vowel, this teacher’s concept of an AH vowel, this idea of support, this idea of how to navigate the passagio, how to strengthen this part of my range, this idea of what singing soft means, this idea of coloratura, or what rep I should sing, of what rep I shouldn’t sing. And rep choices especially were completely irrelevant in light of the fact that whether a voice sounds large, small, broad, slender, if you can’t hear them in the hall, if they don’t have squillo or core, it doesn’t matter what rep they bring to auditions.
I now know how to work towards having that efficiency of phonation on every note in my range. I now also know that my voice isn’t in parts. It’s not the low, the middle, the passaggi, the high. It’s all one thing, and that sound does not have to change to accommodate each section of my voice—I don’t have to be afraid of singing too intensely in my low or my high, and I don’t have to take monster breaths to prepare for what scares me: aka my passagio! When I am singing with efficient phonation, I don’t need to over-stuff with breath, everything automatically does what it is supposed to do. It is almost as if my passagio as I know it no longer exists.
When I am practicing in this way, it doesn’t always sound so mellifluous inside my head as I listen to myself. But I realize that what I thought I liked before inside my head wasn’t working. It didn’t sound right to the people listening to me, and when the overtones are all vibrating in there, it can be downright intense. It also turned on another light: when I stop manipulating and start phonating properly, I am no longer presenting to an audience only what I want them to hear.
They are hearing what I really sound like.
This is both horrifying and liberating all at once.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Are orchestras too loud???
Please read this wonderful post by master teacher Ron LaFond: "Are orchestras too loud or are singers un-resonant?"
Monday, March 26, 2012
Spring
It’s official, I do believe spring has sprung. My eyes are exploding with pollen and I want a whole new wardrobe. That’s how I know for sure.
I stopped just short of doing myself a harm to avoid returning to work this morning. I am reminded of the moment in Downton Abbey Season Two when Thomas succeeds in getting himself shot in order to be sent back home from the war. I did not hurt myself, but it was tough to come back from my five day cooking-rehearsing-practicing-Downton Abbey watching party. And yes, work is not anything like a war, but...you can understand.
At the beginning of the week I made myself a list of what I wanted to make to keep in the freezer, and I did ALL OF IT. I made Asian Chicken soup, six meals worth of meatballs and tomato sauce, spinach and ricotta ravioli, marinaded chicken ready for the grill or oven, mini quiches for breakfasts, two loaves of bread (I would have made more, but it’s been too humid for good bread making), and four two-person portions of carbonara casserole. Cooking is such a pleasure for me, it makes me feel human, and like my life is not useless after all—if all else fails I can cook something for somebody and have them like it. Also, I’ve always felt like cooking is one of the few things I really do for Joe, when he does so much for me every day. There are literally lists of tasks I never even have to think about because he wordlessly takes care of them.
Joe and I always have to plan really well for our summers—as do most of the musicians I know, because money is tighter without church and adjunct teaching. So as I look forward and try to plan for what I’ll want to save for—first on the list is a new recording, and several lessons. Second is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, but in the light of all the voice lessons I need, I’d been having a hard time trying to justify it. I want to start training as a Reiki healer—something I’ve been introduced to by one of my favorite yoga teachers. But even if the only person it ever heals is me—what could possibly be a more beneficial thing to spend money on? It’s not like I’m buying a Chanel purse, although I want one of those too. I guess the idea that I would want to spend any more than 100 dollars on anything other than singing with my discretionary income scares me. It’s like this voice in my head is telling me I don’t have my priorities straight. But it’s the wrong voice, the fearful voice, the one with the guilt.
I have to stop paying any attention to that voice. I really do.
I stopped just short of doing myself a harm to avoid returning to work this morning. I am reminded of the moment in Downton Abbey Season Two when Thomas succeeds in getting himself shot in order to be sent back home from the war. I did not hurt myself, but it was tough to come back from my five day cooking-rehearsing-practicing-Downton Abbey watching party. And yes, work is not anything like a war, but...you can understand.
At the beginning of the week I made myself a list of what I wanted to make to keep in the freezer, and I did ALL OF IT. I made Asian Chicken soup, six meals worth of meatballs and tomato sauce, spinach and ricotta ravioli, marinaded chicken ready for the grill or oven, mini quiches for breakfasts, two loaves of bread (I would have made more, but it’s been too humid for good bread making), and four two-person portions of carbonara casserole. Cooking is such a pleasure for me, it makes me feel human, and like my life is not useless after all—if all else fails I can cook something for somebody and have them like it. Also, I’ve always felt like cooking is one of the few things I really do for Joe, when he does so much for me every day. There are literally lists of tasks I never even have to think about because he wordlessly takes care of them.
Joe and I always have to plan really well for our summers—as do most of the musicians I know, because money is tighter without church and adjunct teaching. So as I look forward and try to plan for what I’ll want to save for—first on the list is a new recording, and several lessons. Second is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, but in the light of all the voice lessons I need, I’d been having a hard time trying to justify it. I want to start training as a Reiki healer—something I’ve been introduced to by one of my favorite yoga teachers. But even if the only person it ever heals is me—what could possibly be a more beneficial thing to spend money on? It’s not like I’m buying a Chanel purse, although I want one of those too. I guess the idea that I would want to spend any more than 100 dollars on anything other than singing with my discretionary income scares me. It’s like this voice in my head is telling me I don’t have my priorities straight. But it’s the wrong voice, the fearful voice, the one with the guilt.
I have to stop paying any attention to that voice. I really do.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Time Off
I've been lucky enough to have a few days off from my day job, and have spent the past couple of days memorizing, practicing, cooking, and getting my taxes done. I am so proud I actually do them myself, Schedule C and all. My heart feels lighter now that it's done!
The weather has been swell too, and it's been hard to stay focused. For the first time in years, Joe and I have spring breaks that overlap. It's been great. We started off the week with a really exciting performance of some Bartok he's been working on for a long time, and in two weeks he has another concert with a violinist he works with, and since I am in staging now for DG, we both have lots to keep us occupied, not to mention the fact that the house hasn't been cleaned in about four months. Tonight, we're taking some time away from practicing and cleaning and going to dinner and the movies. YAY!
I think I am doing sort of okay with my calorie counting-- I lost another pound. It should be more-- but every little bit helps.
I made it through Mi tradi in a run through with the whole cast in attendance, and I didn't walk away ready to hang myself, although I know it will be better as it gets more like second nature. No breaths in the runs! I took them in one breath, and it felt better than trying to take out notes to fit them in. When I did that, it was like I was stressing out suddenly about taking a breath and it sounding funny. So I have decided to simply learn to maximize my breath and phonation efficiency and make it work! I was so nervous. But it was certainly a case of mind over matter with that aria. I said to myself, "Jessica, are you going to let this crash and burn by believing that you can't sing it?" And the answer to that was hell, no.
The weather has been swell too, and it's been hard to stay focused. For the first time in years, Joe and I have spring breaks that overlap. It's been great. We started off the week with a really exciting performance of some Bartok he's been working on for a long time, and in two weeks he has another concert with a violinist he works with, and since I am in staging now for DG, we both have lots to keep us occupied, not to mention the fact that the house hasn't been cleaned in about four months. Tonight, we're taking some time away from practicing and cleaning and going to dinner and the movies. YAY!
I think I am doing sort of okay with my calorie counting-- I lost another pound. It should be more-- but every little bit helps.
I made it through Mi tradi in a run through with the whole cast in attendance, and I didn't walk away ready to hang myself, although I know it will be better as it gets more like second nature. No breaths in the runs! I took them in one breath, and it felt better than trying to take out notes to fit them in. When I did that, it was like I was stressing out suddenly about taking a breath and it sounding funny. So I have decided to simply learn to maximize my breath and phonation efficiency and make it work! I was so nervous. But it was certainly a case of mind over matter with that aria. I said to myself, "Jessica, are you going to let this crash and burn by believing that you can't sing it?" And the answer to that was hell, no.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Friday
They say that being grateful for what you have is the quickest route to getting where you want to go. Sometimes it’s easier than other times to feel grateful. In fact, sometimes my brain is just a minefield of pathetic victimhood. In that moment the only thing that can pull me out of feeling bad is feeling bad enough that it makes me not want to feel bad any more. Then I just say: I’m done with feeling bad, and I’m not going to do it any more. I’m going to change what I can change, or just decide to be okay with where I am right now. And then ten minutes later, you’re fine.
But today I am really grateful. I’m grateful for my family (Joe, Pete, Mimi, and so many friends that are family too), and for the fact that by some miracle I’ve been able to afford two coachings and two lessons in a month and feel very on top of my sh*t, I’m grateful that I currently (and this may change tomorrow) have the courage to say it’s okay to keep working really hard at being a singer, even if it may never make me any money.
Also, maybe it’s always easier to be grateful on Friday.
But today I am really grateful. I’m grateful for my family (Joe, Pete, Mimi, and so many friends that are family too), and for the fact that by some miracle I’ve been able to afford two coachings and two lessons in a month and feel very on top of my sh*t, I’m grateful that I currently (and this may change tomorrow) have the courage to say it’s okay to keep working really hard at being a singer, even if it may never make me any money.
Also, maybe it’s always easier to be grateful on Friday.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
A really great article from Raptitude’s David
This was so wonderful to read today: Why Your Work Disappoints You. And oddly, it really correlated with a situation with a student today, too.
Also—it’s the Ides of March. Stay away from men in togas with daggers.
Also—it’s the Ides of March. Stay away from men in togas with daggers.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Singing with our truth
My life has come full circle in so many ways. Things I ran to get as far away from as I could I now find myself smack in the middle of. I'm back in Baltimore again, where I was born. I'm singing in houses of worship for a living, when, after playing for my father's church for ten years I was pretty done with that whole scene.
My beloved teacher from undergrad always told me the types of roles she saw me singing when I "grew up." I dreamed of Violetta and Lucia and bought the scores, and then I went to grad school, sang completely different things, and veered off into other territory. There was a time I looked at those scores on my shelf and thought maybe it would make sense to give them away, that they were of no use to me. I almost did! And now it seems, the closer I get to what I think my real voice really is, the more I think she was probably right all along. The high stuff is easier for me than it has ever been. I need to work a bit on my flexibility, but the idea of fioratura does not seem as impossible as it once did.
My teacher said the other day: "The journey to the voice is really the journey to self, isn't it?"
And as cheesy as that might look on the page, it wasn't at all when he said it.
The thought that what I originally (as a VERY young singer) imagined myself to be in my head may actually be what I will sing...well that just kind of blows my mind. Maybe it shouldn't, but somehow, it make me more confident in myself, my instincts, the fact that I may in fact know more about my own voice than anyone else, even on a deep subconscious level. What a concept! After all this time, all this training, everything it has taken me to get to where I am, to feel like I am singing with the real Jessica voice: I may in fact be coming full circle.
My beloved teacher from undergrad always told me the types of roles she saw me singing when I "grew up." I dreamed of Violetta and Lucia and bought the scores, and then I went to grad school, sang completely different things, and veered off into other territory. There was a time I looked at those scores on my shelf and thought maybe it would make sense to give them away, that they were of no use to me. I almost did! And now it seems, the closer I get to what I think my real voice really is, the more I think she was probably right all along. The high stuff is easier for me than it has ever been. I need to work a bit on my flexibility, but the idea of fioratura does not seem as impossible as it once did.
My teacher said the other day: "The journey to the voice is really the journey to self, isn't it?"
And as cheesy as that might look on the page, it wasn't at all when he said it.
The thought that what I originally (as a VERY young singer) imagined myself to be in my head may actually be what I will sing...well that just kind of blows my mind. Maybe it shouldn't, but somehow, it make me more confident in myself, my instincts, the fact that I may in fact know more about my own voice than anyone else, even on a deep subconscious level. What a concept! After all this time, all this training, everything it has taken me to get to where I am, to feel like I am singing with the real Jessica voice: I may in fact be coming full circle.
Friday, March 09, 2012
Frivolous Friday: the best things: week of March 5
1. My new J Crew silver ballet flats (courtesy of a hell of a sale on Ebay, of course)
2. Le nozze di Figaro TONIGHT at Lyric Opera Baltimore
3. Most fabulous lesson ever and great time in NYC-- more on this soon. All about singing with our own TRUTH, our real voices, one voice from top to bottom. The journey to finding your voice is really the journey to yourself.
4. My new Essie nail colors "Playdate," Tangerine, and "Tart Deco." I literally cannot stop staring at my fingers. Anything that makes you this happy should cost way more money!
5. Guacamole and Margaritas: I mean, come on. What could be better? And when you are having them with your hot husband, well...
6. I'm reading a fabulous book: The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen
7. Friend time: it's always so good to feel that you have people on your team
8. Our new stray kitty, Petunia
9. Daffodils. Absolute joy in a vase!
2. Le nozze di Figaro TONIGHT at Lyric Opera Baltimore
3. Most fabulous lesson ever and great time in NYC-- more on this soon. All about singing with our own TRUTH, our real voices, one voice from top to bottom. The journey to finding your voice is really the journey to yourself.
4. My new Essie nail colors "Playdate," Tangerine, and "Tart Deco." I literally cannot stop staring at my fingers. Anything that makes you this happy should cost way more money!
5. Guacamole and Margaritas: I mean, come on. What could be better? And when you are having them with your hot husband, well...
6. I'm reading a fabulous book: The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen
7. Friend time: it's always so good to feel that you have people on your team
8. Our new stray kitty, Petunia
9. Daffodils. Absolute joy in a vase!
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
Choir singing and the Operatic Voice
Since you (the two of you that read this blog) know almost everything about me, which is scary, you know that I’ve been doing a lot of hard vocal work lately. Not that this is really that different than any other time—I practice everyday—but right now my focus is a little different than it’s been.
Being able to sing over an orchestra requires a very specific kind of training, as I’m discovering more and more everyday. The muscles have to be worked daily to support the vocal folds for this highly athletic thing we do called creating intense resonance. It’s not something you just don’t have or just do have, period, although some people have easier access naturally. It’s something you can work to build, and I’m working on it.
As a lover of choral music and the Anglican tradition specifically, I am in awe of those singers who have devoted their musical lives to developing the technique to sing this genre of music well. While I believe that what I am best suited for is probably opera, I think that I, like most singers, if we focused on developing our voices for the requirements of the music of this era/genre, we could be at least not horrible/even proficient at it. The reverse is also probably true—the people who chose high-level ensemble singing/early music could have chosen to train differently and build voices to sing opera in big houses. Often, these singers have the natural resonance to sing over orchestras without doing the muscle building but find it difficult to sustain without doing damage. The difference is not who is more resonant, it’s who can sustain it in large houses over large orchestras in a healthy way, something that even “small” voices can do if the foundation is there. If you are singing a capella, or with smaller forces almost exclusively, it makes more sense to spend time on other aspects of technique more relevant to the repertoire. I think of operatic technique as being about making very primal sound, not about blending at all, really. Many may disagree with me, but I guess what I’m getting at is that we make decisions to train in specific ways to do different things, from pop, to opera to choral and early music, and Broadway.
The thing is, for those of us with slightly larger voices, singing in choirs without being obnoxious requires a lot of off-the-voice singing. Resulting in me, of course, wearing my voice out in half the usual time and undoing all the practice I’d done working to build my musculature earlier in the day. Essentially, I am reinforcing the opposite of what I am working on in voice lessons every time I sing in my choral gigs. It would be the same if I were singing in the chorus of Cats, or as back up for Celine Dion. Even if I ever get the elusive choral job where you are encouraged to sing with your full-voiced operatic technique, I still don’t think I really would—there is something about choir-singing (deeply ingrained from college, I’m sure) that makes me feel like I need to blend.
I struggle with this continually.
I enjoy singing in choirs, and I love the repertoire, both for the Jewish and Anglican liturgies. It is really fantastic stuff. I like the social aspect, and the camaraderie, and the fact that, well, it’s just less stressful singing with a whole section of sopranos than by yourself! Also—the most important reason of them all: it pays the bills. Each job I have is for a very specific reason—one is my car payment, one is my voice lessons and coachings, etc. I can’t really spare them.
You’ve heard it said: Leap and the net will appear. But at what point is leaping out of your choral gigs to continue solidifying your operatic technique a really bad financial decision?
Being able to sing over an orchestra requires a very specific kind of training, as I’m discovering more and more everyday. The muscles have to be worked daily to support the vocal folds for this highly athletic thing we do called creating intense resonance. It’s not something you just don’t have or just do have, period, although some people have easier access naturally. It’s something you can work to build, and I’m working on it.
As a lover of choral music and the Anglican tradition specifically, I am in awe of those singers who have devoted their musical lives to developing the technique to sing this genre of music well. While I believe that what I am best suited for is probably opera, I think that I, like most singers, if we focused on developing our voices for the requirements of the music of this era/genre, we could be at least not horrible/even proficient at it. The reverse is also probably true—the people who chose high-level ensemble singing/early music could have chosen to train differently and build voices to sing opera in big houses. Often, these singers have the natural resonance to sing over orchestras without doing the muscle building but find it difficult to sustain without doing damage. The difference is not who is more resonant, it’s who can sustain it in large houses over large orchestras in a healthy way, something that even “small” voices can do if the foundation is there. If you are singing a capella, or with smaller forces almost exclusively, it makes more sense to spend time on other aspects of technique more relevant to the repertoire. I think of operatic technique as being about making very primal sound, not about blending at all, really. Many may disagree with me, but I guess what I’m getting at is that we make decisions to train in specific ways to do different things, from pop, to opera to choral and early music, and Broadway.
The thing is, for those of us with slightly larger voices, singing in choirs without being obnoxious requires a lot of off-the-voice singing. Resulting in me, of course, wearing my voice out in half the usual time and undoing all the practice I’d done working to build my musculature earlier in the day. Essentially, I am reinforcing the opposite of what I am working on in voice lessons every time I sing in my choral gigs. It would be the same if I were singing in the chorus of Cats, or as back up for Celine Dion. Even if I ever get the elusive choral job where you are encouraged to sing with your full-voiced operatic technique, I still don’t think I really would—there is something about choir-singing (deeply ingrained from college, I’m sure) that makes me feel like I need to blend.
I struggle with this continually.
I enjoy singing in choirs, and I love the repertoire, both for the Jewish and Anglican liturgies. It is really fantastic stuff. I like the social aspect, and the camaraderie, and the fact that, well, it’s just less stressful singing with a whole section of sopranos than by yourself! Also—the most important reason of them all: it pays the bills. Each job I have is for a very specific reason—one is my car payment, one is my voice lessons and coachings, etc. I can’t really spare them.
You’ve heard it said: Leap and the net will appear. But at what point is leaping out of your choral gigs to continue solidifying your operatic technique a really bad financial decision?
Friday, March 02, 2012
Frivolous Friday
Stuff I absolutely love, not that you care, but nevertheless:
- The blog “A Girl, A Style.” A singularly positive and wonderfully feminine outlook on life—there is absolutely nothing wrong with looking at the world through rose-colored glasses
- Brianna’s Monday night yoga class, although now it is getting so crowded because everyone figured out how amazing it is
- Finding a fun accessory I’ve been admiring on the blogs for a fraction of its original price on Ebay, then that fabulous moment when you “win” your item!
- Cooking a good dinner, and Joe loving it, which he almost always does, but I have had some disasters…at least enough never to take a dish coming out well for granted
- Eating the leftovers of said dinner for lunch the next day
- Midi skirts, despite the fact that they may or may not be responsible (along with leggings, of course) for my putting on a few pounds and never even realizing it…sigh
- Big necklaces that deflect attention from my hips
- Looking forward to things like happy hour or lunch with a good friend, luckily, I have made these things an important part of my schedule—brilliant, yes I am!
- Bach: need I say more
- Brightly colored ballet flats
- The moment in the third act of La bohème when Marcello sings the piercing “Mimí!” I always sing it to my cat in a dorky fake baritone voice
- Spaghetti Cacio e pepe: the simplest and most delicious thing you could eat at the end of a weird day—my new directive: no matter what, must perpetually keep ingredients for this dish in pantry
- Seltzer water, with lemon, lime, and/or especially a splash of cranberry—it’s the glamorous nearly calorie-free drink—it looks so pretty in the glass
- Whorish nail polish: whatever that means
- Red Zinfandel
- When you buy a bunch of tulips and their stems begin to bend over the edge of the vase into the most gorgeous architectural looking shape
- Working on Mozart: it never gets easy and it never gets old
- Working on Puccini: it always makes you feel like a really sensitive musician
- Baking bread, rather like I imagine giving birth would be, less painful, but takes almost as long, but the little finished loaf makes me feel so proud
- My precious jewels: Cats extraordinaire Pete and Mimi. Just them being there when I get home heals me
- Vanilla pannacotta
- Non vos relinquam orphanos, a motet by William Byrd—listen to it
- Google calendars
- Having a clean house—walking in, seeing everything in its place, and with the pillows especially fluffy looking
- Peonies, daffodils, and big bunches of grape hyacinths
- Having doors opened for me—especially car doors
Happy Weekend, warriors! Oh, and follow me on PINTEREST!!!
- The blog “A Girl, A Style.” A singularly positive and wonderfully feminine outlook on life—there is absolutely nothing wrong with looking at the world through rose-colored glasses
- Brianna’s Monday night yoga class, although now it is getting so crowded because everyone figured out how amazing it is
- Finding a fun accessory I’ve been admiring on the blogs for a fraction of its original price on Ebay, then that fabulous moment when you “win” your item!
- Cooking a good dinner, and Joe loving it, which he almost always does, but I have had some disasters…at least enough never to take a dish coming out well for granted
- Eating the leftovers of said dinner for lunch the next day
- Midi skirts, despite the fact that they may or may not be responsible (along with leggings, of course) for my putting on a few pounds and never even realizing it…sigh
- Big necklaces that deflect attention from my hips
- Looking forward to things like happy hour or lunch with a good friend, luckily, I have made these things an important part of my schedule—brilliant, yes I am!
- Bach: need I say more
- Brightly colored ballet flats
- The moment in the third act of La bohème when Marcello sings the piercing “Mimí!” I always sing it to my cat in a dorky fake baritone voice
- Spaghetti Cacio e pepe: the simplest and most delicious thing you could eat at the end of a weird day—my new directive: no matter what, must perpetually keep ingredients for this dish in pantry
- Seltzer water, with lemon, lime, and/or especially a splash of cranberry—it’s the glamorous nearly calorie-free drink—it looks so pretty in the glass
- Whorish nail polish: whatever that means
- Red Zinfandel
- When you buy a bunch of tulips and their stems begin to bend over the edge of the vase into the most gorgeous architectural looking shape
- Working on Mozart: it never gets easy and it never gets old
- Working on Puccini: it always makes you feel like a really sensitive musician
- Baking bread, rather like I imagine giving birth would be, less painful, but takes almost as long, but the little finished loaf makes me feel so proud
- My precious jewels: Cats extraordinaire Pete and Mimi. Just them being there when I get home heals me
- Vanilla pannacotta
- Non vos relinquam orphanos, a motet by William Byrd—listen to it
- Google calendars
- Having a clean house—walking in, seeing everything in its place, and with the pillows especially fluffy looking
- Peonies, daffodils, and big bunches of grape hyacinths
- Having doors opened for me—especially car doors
Happy Weekend, warriors! Oh, and follow me on PINTEREST!!!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
The charmed life, part 2
It's a rainy day in Baltimore, and the walk to work this morning made me thankful I have some heavy duty rain boots and a new ebay bracelet to cheer me up today. I am taking the advice of the blog post I recommended in yesterday's post 10 Ways to a More Charmed Life, and wearing bright lipgloss as today's antidote to the drowned rat effect.
I remember a time in my life when being glamorous felt not only unattainable, but like the wrong thing to do, an inappropriate waste of energy, in a time when a 5 dollar vodka soda was a major expense, and being seen as an intelligent academic singer was more the image I was going for.
Now, I've realized I don't care if people think that being fixed up and looking good equals being dumb, I care that when I look at myself in the mirror as I'm practicing every day, I see a person who looks like she cares. A person who could walk confidently into a rehearsal be proud of her appearance. I care so much less what other people think of me than what I used to, but spend more time on myself, because I care about me. What a concept.
Caring about me has made me a better friend, a better singer, a much more alluring wife, a better decision maker about food, about clothes (aka, they actually look good on ME, not the people in the magazine),read more and better books, all of the above. When I say I care about myself, I guess I don't mean I am taking myself seriously, per se, but I think it means I expect the best from me. I hold myself to a high standard, and try not to let myself get away with silly stuff that is going to feel good in the moment but feel bad later. I am working on making time with friends a priority, which is tougher now than it used to be, because time with a person's husband is a big priority too. I fail myself a lot. I regularly say un-cute things, and eat too much of the really good stuff, and behave in a ridiculous way. But I am working on making those slip-ups fewer.
If I spent all day long doing exactly what I secretly want to do (not a secret any more, hello internet), I would be eating Martin's kettle-cooked potato chips by the industrial size bag, dreaming up new ways to eat more cheese and pasta (preferably together), watching Bravo, looking at Pinterest, and going on the odd shopping trip or voice lesson/coaching, and maybe doing some craft projects. Add to that signing contracts to sing Mimi at the Met and getting a pedicure and you've pretty much described my dream day. I am a lot more of a homebody than you may think. But part of that whole thing with having a good life is, I think, making an effort, which to me means: not letting myself down, not living in a way that would make me regret that I hadn't pushed myself a little.
Last night, I met Stu for a drink after work, and spent a good deal of time complaining about how hungry I am all the time because of this darn calorie counting. But I felt really proud of myself later for not giving into the allure of the truffle fries. It sure sucked when the ladies at the next table were brought plates of piping hot fries piled high, but it felt good when I entered my numbers at the end of the night and didn't have regrets. And soon, my stomach will shrink to normal size and I won't be as hungry. That's the wonderful thing about stomachs.
I love in the blog post I linked above how she mentions buying flowers. I bought some tulips the other day for like 4 dollars, and the amount of pleasure they have given me looking at them on my dining room table every day has been incredible. It makes me wonder why I don't just make a habit of it. In fact, maybe I will. Every day in life IS a special day, special enough to deserve flowers. I used to only buy flowers when we were having company, now I've vowed to buy them because I like them for me.
But if you came for dinner, I would get the extra-special flowers.
Have a charming day.
I remember a time in my life when being glamorous felt not only unattainable, but like the wrong thing to do, an inappropriate waste of energy, in a time when a 5 dollar vodka soda was a major expense, and being seen as an intelligent academic singer was more the image I was going for.
Now, I've realized I don't care if people think that being fixed up and looking good equals being dumb, I care that when I look at myself in the mirror as I'm practicing every day, I see a person who looks like she cares. A person who could walk confidently into a rehearsal be proud of her appearance. I care so much less what other people think of me than what I used to, but spend more time on myself, because I care about me. What a concept.
Caring about me has made me a better friend, a better singer, a much more alluring wife, a better decision maker about food, about clothes (aka, they actually look good on ME, not the people in the magazine),read more and better books, all of the above. When I say I care about myself, I guess I don't mean I am taking myself seriously, per se, but I think it means I expect the best from me. I hold myself to a high standard, and try not to let myself get away with silly stuff that is going to feel good in the moment but feel bad later. I am working on making time with friends a priority, which is tougher now than it used to be, because time with a person's husband is a big priority too. I fail myself a lot. I regularly say un-cute things, and eat too much of the really good stuff, and behave in a ridiculous way. But I am working on making those slip-ups fewer.
If I spent all day long doing exactly what I secretly want to do (not a secret any more, hello internet), I would be eating Martin's kettle-cooked potato chips by the industrial size bag, dreaming up new ways to eat more cheese and pasta (preferably together), watching Bravo, looking at Pinterest, and going on the odd shopping trip or voice lesson/coaching, and maybe doing some craft projects. Add to that signing contracts to sing Mimi at the Met and getting a pedicure and you've pretty much described my dream day. I am a lot more of a homebody than you may think. But part of that whole thing with having a good life is, I think, making an effort, which to me means: not letting myself down, not living in a way that would make me regret that I hadn't pushed myself a little.
Last night, I met Stu for a drink after work, and spent a good deal of time complaining about how hungry I am all the time because of this darn calorie counting. But I felt really proud of myself later for not giving into the allure of the truffle fries. It sure sucked when the ladies at the next table were brought plates of piping hot fries piled high, but it felt good when I entered my numbers at the end of the night and didn't have regrets. And soon, my stomach will shrink to normal size and I won't be as hungry. That's the wonderful thing about stomachs.
I love in the blog post I linked above how she mentions buying flowers. I bought some tulips the other day for like 4 dollars, and the amount of pleasure they have given me looking at them on my dining room table every day has been incredible. It makes me wonder why I don't just make a habit of it. In fact, maybe I will. Every day in life IS a special day, special enough to deserve flowers. I used to only buy flowers when we were having company, now I've vowed to buy them because I like them for me.
But if you came for dinner, I would get the extra-special flowers.
Have a charming day.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Because I have no one to brag to but you!
Quite the departure from yesterday's angsty post, here I am declaring to you that something I learned in that lesson must be working.
I vocalized up to an F-sharp above high C, people!!!!!! First time since, well, Freshman year of college, back in my innocent adolescence.
Yes. Life could be worse.
I vocalized up to an F-sharp above high C, people!!!!!! First time since, well, Freshman year of college, back in my innocent adolescence.
Yes. Life could be worse.
Monday, February 27, 2012
The only constant is change
One of the things I love best about the craft/skill of singing is that no matter how accomplished you are, there is always something you could do better. Every working singer I know still has a teacher who acts as their ears. Someone to help with little glitches here and there, fixing this or that when a role hasn’t fit perfectly into their voice, or building for one that is a little beyond their current level.
It is also one of the things that my type-A self finds most frustrating about singing. The sense that I will never be finished, and that someone will always have some advice, or something to add.
For years, I’ve gotten feedback, various good and bad. And you know when there are things you have to take to heart and things that you should ignore, because it doesn’t seem to be coming from the right place of genuine concern for your career. The weird thing about singing is that it is a discipline that seems to have a lot of non-specific, non descript lingo that people throw around and can mean a lot of different things. So, when someone says something like “Its sounds like you’re singing from behind a door,” how do I take that feedback to my teacher and figure out how to fix that problem? You pretty much can’t. You just wonder what’s wrong with you that apparently everyone notices but no one knows how to fix.
The other day I had a lesson that felt like everything I had been hearing from competition judges, coaches, etc., somehow added up to exactly what this person said I was missing, but no one had ever been able to articulate in any real way that I understood, much less offered a solution for addressing it. The odd thing is that I have always more readily accepted criticism and declarations of my own vocal lack than I have positive affirmations of my singing. Maybe it was because instinctively, I have always known something was not quite right.
It is so hard to trust when what you hear you will need to do to correct this is hard to accomplish, uncomfortable, very scary, and actually, different than anything you have ever heard, that it is really the right path to take. While I did not immediately have an emotional reaction, I found myself tearing up throughout the day, feeling just generally kind of verklempt, wondering if I was ever going to be able to figure out how to really sing. The more I went over it in my head, and listened to the recording, the more I knew it made a lot of sense. I should have been thankful that someone finally told me what I’d been needing to hear, but instead I kind of felt sorry for myself. Am I really here again? What the heck, I thought. I’m ready to be the finished product.
So all this time I’ve been writing about facing my fears, and I’m being given an actual way to put it into practice. Oh, and the other thing—I weighed myself today for the first time in seven years. It was worse than I thought. But I'm REALLY motivated now. I think 2012 is going to be a year of change and reevaluation.
The other thing I’m wondering is how I could possibly be dumb enough to put all of this on the internet for all of you to read!
It is also one of the things that my type-A self finds most frustrating about singing. The sense that I will never be finished, and that someone will always have some advice, or something to add.
For years, I’ve gotten feedback, various good and bad. And you know when there are things you have to take to heart and things that you should ignore, because it doesn’t seem to be coming from the right place of genuine concern for your career. The weird thing about singing is that it is a discipline that seems to have a lot of non-specific, non descript lingo that people throw around and can mean a lot of different things. So, when someone says something like “Its sounds like you’re singing from behind a door,” how do I take that feedback to my teacher and figure out how to fix that problem? You pretty much can’t. You just wonder what’s wrong with you that apparently everyone notices but no one knows how to fix.
The other day I had a lesson that felt like everything I had been hearing from competition judges, coaches, etc., somehow added up to exactly what this person said I was missing, but no one had ever been able to articulate in any real way that I understood, much less offered a solution for addressing it. The odd thing is that I have always more readily accepted criticism and declarations of my own vocal lack than I have positive affirmations of my singing. Maybe it was because instinctively, I have always known something was not quite right.
It is so hard to trust when what you hear you will need to do to correct this is hard to accomplish, uncomfortable, very scary, and actually, different than anything you have ever heard, that it is really the right path to take. While I did not immediately have an emotional reaction, I found myself tearing up throughout the day, feeling just generally kind of verklempt, wondering if I was ever going to be able to figure out how to really sing. The more I went over it in my head, and listened to the recording, the more I knew it made a lot of sense. I should have been thankful that someone finally told me what I’d been needing to hear, but instead I kind of felt sorry for myself. Am I really here again? What the heck, I thought. I’m ready to be the finished product.
So all this time I’ve been writing about facing my fears, and I’m being given an actual way to put it into practice. Oh, and the other thing—I weighed myself today for the first time in seven years. It was worse than I thought. But I'm REALLY motivated now. I think 2012 is going to be a year of change and reevaluation.
The other thing I’m wondering is how I could possibly be dumb enough to put all of this on the internet for all of you to read!
Friday, February 24, 2012
A really wonderful post you should read
Here it is, from our beloved Jean-Ronald, vocal blogger extraordinaire.
We have to believe in hard work. It always pays off.
We have to believe in hard work. It always pays off.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Weight a second
I'm hesitant even to mention this, because it's kind of annoying to talk about calories. But the truth is, your girl is trying to lose a couple lbs before going onstage as opera's sexiest crazy person: Donna Elvira. The challenges for me so far have been: wine, well, wine, and thirdly wine. Also, time. Before I started rehearsing and coaching all this, I had a lot more time to make it to my yoga classes, and now I'm trying to make up for it by just walking reallly reallllly fast back and forth to work. I'm also using a fabulous little tool introduced to me by the marvelous Stu called My Fitness Pal, where you can log all your caloric intake and exercise and keep track of how you're doing each day. It's been amazing.
Except for one thing. I do not have the courage to weigh myself. I honestly don't think I've stepped on a scale in about 7 years, not counting the doctor's office, where I avert my eyes and I command the nurse not to tell me my weight. The problem is, when I have weighed my self in the past, its thrown me into a week long depression, the likes of which even wine and fabulous girlfriends, shopping and shoes cannot cure. In an act of supreme contradiction, I would eat cake or something silly like that, and then feel even worse.
So I have no concrete proof of how well I'm doing or not, just the vague notion that my clothes are fitting better. It's so ridiculous. Not to even mention the fact that my wardrobe consists mainly of skirts and leggings. The one being stretchy and other other not at all fitted, so it is silly to even consider them a way to judge. Of all the truly ballsy things I can do (including driving in Boston by myself) and have done, stepping on a scale is beyond my fortitude level.
I think I am just going to have to do it, and stop being silly.
I did discover this: singing opera for an hour (aka a coaching or rehearsal) burns 132 calories for a person of average build.
Not bad, eh?
Except for one thing. I do not have the courage to weigh myself. I honestly don't think I've stepped on a scale in about 7 years, not counting the doctor's office, where I avert my eyes and I command the nurse not to tell me my weight. The problem is, when I have weighed my self in the past, its thrown me into a week long depression, the likes of which even wine and fabulous girlfriends, shopping and shoes cannot cure. In an act of supreme contradiction, I would eat cake or something silly like that, and then feel even worse.
So I have no concrete proof of how well I'm doing or not, just the vague notion that my clothes are fitting better. It's so ridiculous. Not to even mention the fact that my wardrobe consists mainly of skirts and leggings. The one being stretchy and other other not at all fitted, so it is silly to even consider them a way to judge. Of all the truly ballsy things I can do (including driving in Boston by myself) and have done, stepping on a scale is beyond my fortitude level.
I think I am just going to have to do it, and stop being silly.
I did discover this: singing opera for an hour (aka a coaching or rehearsal) burns 132 calories for a person of average build.
Not bad, eh?
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Oh my gosh, it's Fat Tuesday
Soundtrack while walking/dancing swiftly to work: Fergie
I was walking swiftly because I am trying to burn lots of calories. And I must admit after that amazing yoga class last night, my hips feel so loose, I was swinging them provocatively, basically dancing down the street like a lunatic. Sometimes Fergie really hits the spot.
My aria coaching (Mi tradi, etc.) with the conductor went better than I had hoped. I was a bit concerned, because my church jobs on Sunday morning tire me out so, and the idea that I would not be well-rested when singing these arias for the conductor for the first time (and they are so scary to begin with) was a little bit of a freak-out. But I put my big opera-singer girl panties on and just walked in and did it. It was so much fun. And while I still have plenty of work to do, I feel like I can do it. And unlike last time, I will not lose sleep.
Tonight, instead of drinking like a fish to celebrate the night before Lent (which also sounds very appealing), I'll be going to my voice lesson. I am so excited to listen to music and memorize as I drive.
That being said, I am certainly hoping you are all on Pinterest. I think it might be the number one most fun thing ever. I'm thinking about starting one for this blog, just to make it even more ridiculous than it already is...adding Pioneer Woman must-have recipes, quotable quotes, fabulous outfits, and the like!
I was walking swiftly because I am trying to burn lots of calories. And I must admit after that amazing yoga class last night, my hips feel so loose, I was swinging them provocatively, basically dancing down the street like a lunatic. Sometimes Fergie really hits the spot.
My aria coaching (Mi tradi, etc.) with the conductor went better than I had hoped. I was a bit concerned, because my church jobs on Sunday morning tire me out so, and the idea that I would not be well-rested when singing these arias for the conductor for the first time (and they are so scary to begin with) was a little bit of a freak-out. But I put my big opera-singer girl panties on and just walked in and did it. It was so much fun. And while I still have plenty of work to do, I feel like I can do it. And unlike last time, I will not lose sleep.
Tonight, instead of drinking like a fish to celebrate the night before Lent (which also sounds very appealing), I'll be going to my voice lesson. I am so excited to listen to music and memorize as I drive.
That being said, I am certainly hoping you are all on Pinterest. I think it might be the number one most fun thing ever. I'm thinking about starting one for this blog, just to make it even more ridiculous than it already is...adding Pioneer Woman must-have recipes, quotable quotes, fabulous outfits, and the like!
Friday, February 17, 2012
Donna Elvira: think totally nuts, and you'll be fine
Because of some major snafus this morning with me just being completely out of it, I got a late start to my coaching. So I had to drive at an obscenely high and unsafe speed to get there on time. The problem being compounded of course, by another snafu—no gas in my car. Joe would never be so careless as to leave a car without gas—no, it was my own fault—I’d left it with very little after getting home from yet another singing related drive, and hadn’t had the energy to fill it up last night.
Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t catch on fire, I was moving so fast around all that gasoline at the gas station. It was insane. And I had to pee, but I didn’t dare stop to go. And I hadn’t eaten. Ask any of my close associates what the worst combination of problems in my life could be, and they will tell you: late, hungry, have to pee. No, seriously, there was this one time in Philadelphia…
Okay, that’s a story for another time, or, actually, never. It will go to my grave with me.
But I did get there on time, only to arrive to hear one of the most ethereally beautiful renditions of Mozart’s SECOND hardest aria: Et incarnatus est. I mean she really nailed it, and she NEVER had to breathe.
His first hardest is the one I had to sing directly after she left.
Mi tradi quell’alma ingrata.
The thing is, I don’t think it would be hard for any of the other women in the opera to sing. Zerlina could just chirp right through, and it would be a lowish walk in the park for Donna Anna. But for the voices that are most frequently cast in the role of Elvira, it can be a bit of a nail biter.
I think it’s because the rest of the arias we sing in Don Giovanni are a bit more, well, angry and loud. Full voiced singing is what feels good to me, I have really only just learned how to do it in the last couple of years (having been a bit of a default floater in the past), and I like to take that approach to all operatic rep. But Mi tradi is so much more complex. The whole scene really kind of shows how really double-minded Elvira is—she’s got some real issues, people. The recit requires that sort of singing, loud, very full in parts, but then, abruptly, a shift to the aria, lots of strings to keep up with underneath, and has to go very fast. It is the worst kind of pain to sing fast and switch between registers all throughout the range, and yet, it happens for about seven very exposed minutes, over and over again. So the only approach that seems to make sense so as not to kill oneself, is to go about it with a really free flow of air and light, light, light, not much weight. No getting bogged down, no worrying about the low bits, just keep the air flowing and use every single rest (oh wow, a second to actually REST?) to go back to, as I like to say, zero. Not to let any tension rise.
When I asked for any last advice before I sing it for the conductor, my coach said: “prayer.” And then burst into laughter and subsequently reassured me that the light concept was working, and that a bit more of the kookiness of the character needs to come in, with a sense of playing with the accidentals and some more “woohoo” nuttiness. It’s hilarious that just thinking about this makes my voice lighter and not weighted. But I will still need to pray as well. Sigh.
Now, isn’t that more than you ever wanted to know about an aria? Yes. Me too.
Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t catch on fire, I was moving so fast around all that gasoline at the gas station. It was insane. And I had to pee, but I didn’t dare stop to go. And I hadn’t eaten. Ask any of my close associates what the worst combination of problems in my life could be, and they will tell you: late, hungry, have to pee. No, seriously, there was this one time in Philadelphia…
Okay, that’s a story for another time, or, actually, never. It will go to my grave with me.
But I did get there on time, only to arrive to hear one of the most ethereally beautiful renditions of Mozart’s SECOND hardest aria: Et incarnatus est. I mean she really nailed it, and she NEVER had to breathe.
His first hardest is the one I had to sing directly after she left.
Mi tradi quell’alma ingrata.
The thing is, I don’t think it would be hard for any of the other women in the opera to sing. Zerlina could just chirp right through, and it would be a lowish walk in the park for Donna Anna. But for the voices that are most frequently cast in the role of Elvira, it can be a bit of a nail biter.
I think it’s because the rest of the arias we sing in Don Giovanni are a bit more, well, angry and loud. Full voiced singing is what feels good to me, I have really only just learned how to do it in the last couple of years (having been a bit of a default floater in the past), and I like to take that approach to all operatic rep. But Mi tradi is so much more complex. The whole scene really kind of shows how really double-minded Elvira is—she’s got some real issues, people. The recit requires that sort of singing, loud, very full in parts, but then, abruptly, a shift to the aria, lots of strings to keep up with underneath, and has to go very fast. It is the worst kind of pain to sing fast and switch between registers all throughout the range, and yet, it happens for about seven very exposed minutes, over and over again. So the only approach that seems to make sense so as not to kill oneself, is to go about it with a really free flow of air and light, light, light, not much weight. No getting bogged down, no worrying about the low bits, just keep the air flowing and use every single rest (oh wow, a second to actually REST?) to go back to, as I like to say, zero. Not to let any tension rise.
When I asked for any last advice before I sing it for the conductor, my coach said: “prayer.” And then burst into laughter and subsequently reassured me that the light concept was working, and that a bit more of the kookiness of the character needs to come in, with a sense of playing with the accidentals and some more “woohoo” nuttiness. It’s hilarious that just thinking about this makes my voice lighter and not weighted. But I will still need to pray as well. Sigh.
Now, isn’t that more than you ever wanted to know about an aria? Yes. Me too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)