To celebrate Halloween and audition season, I have decided to share three of the most frightening audition stories ever told. (OK, maybe not the MOST frightening, but certainly scary from a singer's point of view.)
Story number one concerns a baritone on his way to compete in the District Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions. He's barely 25 and it will be his first time competing. He has high hopes and thinks he might at least advance to the regionals. He has rehearsed, practiced and planned and is now on his way to making his dream come true of being named a district winner (before going off to conquer the regionals, semi-finals and then eventually being named a National winner and launching his international career.) En route to the auditions (he has decided to drive to the audition site) he is mentally going through his list of arias, imaging how he looks in his perfect audition attire and thinking about how great it will be when he wins.
Upon arrival at the audition site, he gathers his clothing and collects his European men's carryall containing all the necessary toiletries; his photo, resume and his...Wait! He begins to shuffle through his bag, checks his backseat, looks under both the driver and passenger car seats and realizes (cue Psycho music) he has forgotten his aria book!! He is scheduled to sing in less than an hour and must find some way to get the music for the five arias he is set to sing. Panic! Luckily for him, the audition is at a University that has a large music library. He rushes over and finds a surly library assistant who seems to have no sympathy for his situation and offers little in the way of help. Finally, he throws a bit of divo weight around and gets a REAL librarian. After five minutes of explaining that while he is not a student, he needs to get copies of the music as he is scheduled to sing in, YIKES, 35 minutes. The librarian agrees that he may checkout the vocal scores as long as he leaves his driver's license. Done. After scouring the stakes he realizes that there is one aria that he can't find! Damn you obscure aria in English! He thinks quickly and comes up with an English alternative that he knows but hasn't really practiced much. He returns to the check-out desk where the surly library assistant is giving him a "you ain't gonna' be a winner today" look as he checks out the scores and takes his license and places it in what I can only suppose is an envelope for losers. He rushes back to the audition auditorium with fifteen minutes to change, warm-up and be ready to go.
His time to sing arrives. He gets through his opening aria and is asked for his barely rehearsed English offering. He surprisingly does not fall apart, but on the downside, he is not named a winner (or even given an encouragement award.) The blur that follows includes talking to the three judges who tell him he seemed nervous and a bit unprepared. DUH! But as he drives home, he realizes that while he felt like a zombie for the better part of the audition and the interaction with the judges, he has come away having learned a valuable lesson. Always, ALWAYS check your European men's carryall and make certain you have your music!!
Scary story number two takes place two years later. A young soprano with a spectacular voice is singing Desdemona's "Salce, Salce" from Verdi's Otello in the same high-profile competition from the previous tale. After she finishes, the audience remains spellbound. She seems poised to be one of the winners (and could go all the way!) The judges confer and ask for Fiordilgi's fiendishly difficult "Come Scoglio." Where the Verdi aria is all about smooth, legato, ravishing soft singing and dramatic storytelling, "Come Scoglio" from Mozart's Cosi Fan Tutte is all about wide vocal jumps, coloratura passages and "balls to the wall" singing. She begins and is doing very well, but then a hiccup: she goes for one of the runs and completely blows it. She then lets forth a four-letter word that makes everyone packed inside the theater look up. I believe there were at least three or four audible gasps and suddenly this potential front-runner seems to be like a horse that has been shot in the leg and is falling to the ground. She finishes the aria and looks so mad that it appears she might scream bloody murder. She gives a fake smile and walks off the stage. She has never been heard from since.
The final tale of audition horror comes from a friend of friend so it MUST be true! A young soprano is preparing to sing for Opera Company X that is hearing people for its upcoming season. She is using the company assigned accompanist and before she launches into her introduction to the audition panel, she talks to the accompanist about her desired tempi. She turns and introduces herself and before she completely get the name of her first aria out, the accompanist has launched into the intro. What's worse is that they are playing at a much faster speed than the soprano wants. She thought back to her audition class where they were always told that no matter what the accompanist was doing; sing at the tempo that works for you. Recalling this advice, she begins to sing hoping the accompanist notices that she wants to go much slower. Either the accompanist was not paying attention or had different ideas about how fast the aria should go, because they kept playing at the tempo they had set or the poor soprano had to struggle through her audition piece. She could barely get through it vocally let alone put forth any dramatic efforts. After the aria finished, the panel, which had barely looked up, thanked her in that manner that meant "better luck next time." Furious with the accompanist, the petite soprano, who had seemed so pleasant when she entered the room, took her music from the accompanist and without missing a beat used the book to pop the accompanist upside the head simply saying "Too fast!" She walked out of the audition and rumor has it she never did another audition again.
I relate these (true?) stories mainly for comedic effect, but also to remind myself and the thousands of other singers preparing to audition of three simple rules: 1) Always have your music, 2) Try to refrain from dropping the F-bomb if you make a mistake and 3) No matter what the accompanist does, never, never hit them upside the head.
Peace,
Eric
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Opera sells itself (if you can just get them into the theater)
Last night I performed in the dress rehearsal of Puccini’s La bohème. The audience was made up mostly of high school age students and was peppered with supporters of the opera and various friends and family of cast members. We all know that Puccini crafted a masterpiece. Act I introduces us to the four Bohemians and Mimi. We get to see their world, know what drives them emotionally and see the relationship of Mimi and Rodolfo unfold. In Act II, we see their greater world as they venture out into Paris in the 1830s. We also meet Musetta and get an understanding of the volatile relationship she and Marcello have. Act III the drama really begins to take shape as we get a deeper understanding of the intensity and passion of the relationships between the two couples. By Act IV we see that both Rodolfo and Marcello are back to being single men. The other two friends (Schaunard and Colline) come in and the boys are back to having a good time. Suddenly Musetta enters and says that Mimi is dying. Throughout the wrenching last act Mimi and Rodolfo are reunited along with Marcello and Musetta. Mimi slowly dies as all the Bohemians surround her to say farewell. I have seen La bohème live on three occasions and listened to it more times than I can count. But every time we get to the end it gets me and I get choked up.
This was my first experience singing bohème and it was exciting to have an audience that was so invested in the story. They responded to the humor, the romance and the depth of loss that all interweave throughout this fascinating story. Most of the audience members were “new” to opera, yet were not afraid to laugh, hoot when Marcello and Musetta reunite in Act II, respond to the thrilling Act III quartet and applaud madly for the artists at the curtain call. It confirmed what I’ve always believed about opera; the artform sells itself. These composers were men of the theater and had a sixth sense about how to combine text, music and character that could capture an audience. I’m always happy when a “younger” audience gets to experience opera because they get its visceral impact and even though it is performed in a large theater and in a foreign language, still seem to feel an intimate connection with the main characters.
Maybe one of the problems with attracting people to opera is not the artform, but the idea of what a trip to the opera is. Many people still think it is a gathering of the elite, but a recent rebuff of an article about opera being for the 1% shows that many passionate opera lovers come from a diverse background:
http://www.npr.org/blogs/deceptivecadence/2011/10/13/141319827/opera-is-for-the-99-heres-what-you-told-us
Perhaps the real solution is to get away from so much formality and let the audience feel that they can truly respond to the action happening on stage. Of course you want the audience to be enraptured by the gorgeous arias, remain spellbound by the acting and respond generously at the curtain call, but you also want them to feel that the entire operatic experience is one that engulfs all the senses (listening to amazing music, tasting great cocktails while at intermission, the romantic scent of their date’s new perfume, the sight of people from all walks of life and the feeling of emotional impact of having experienced an amazing performance.) Isn’t that what great theater does?
Peace,
Eric
This was my first experience singing bohème and it was exciting to have an audience that was so invested in the story. They responded to the humor, the romance and the depth of loss that all interweave throughout this fascinating story. Most of the audience members were “new” to opera, yet were not afraid to laugh, hoot when Marcello and Musetta reunite in Act II, respond to the thrilling Act III quartet and applaud madly for the artists at the curtain call. It confirmed what I’ve always believed about opera; the artform sells itself. These composers were men of the theater and had a sixth sense about how to combine text, music and character that could capture an audience. I’m always happy when a “younger” audience gets to experience opera because they get its visceral impact and even though it is performed in a large theater and in a foreign language, still seem to feel an intimate connection with the main characters.
Maybe one of the problems with attracting people to opera is not the artform, but the idea of what a trip to the opera is. Many people still think it is a gathering of the elite, but a recent rebuff of an article about opera being for the 1% shows that many passionate opera lovers come from a diverse background:
http://www.npr.org/blogs/deceptivecadence/2011/10/13/141319827/opera-is-for-the-99-heres-what-you-told-us
Perhaps the real solution is to get away from so much formality and let the audience feel that they can truly respond to the action happening on stage. Of course you want the audience to be enraptured by the gorgeous arias, remain spellbound by the acting and respond generously at the curtain call, but you also want them to feel that the entire operatic experience is one that engulfs all the senses (listening to amazing music, tasting great cocktails while at intermission, the romantic scent of their date’s new perfume, the sight of people from all walks of life and the feeling of emotional impact of having experienced an amazing performance.) Isn’t that what great theater does?
Peace,
Eric
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Lighten up
Yesterday was a great day of creative discovery. I am singing the role of Schaunard in La boheme and the conductor pulled me aside and told me that I was working too hard at singing the role. He said I needed to find lightness in my sound so that I would, not only be truer to the character, but sing the role better. He told me that there is a time and place for the bigger singing, but much of the role was about the language and expression. I tried it in rehearsal and it worked well. It felt like my voice, but different, less controlled and more “wild” in a sense. Dare I say, playful?
I relate this story because I am in the final week of Julia Cameron’s The Artist Way. For those not familiar, the book is a phenomenal way of tapping into our own creativity and releasing a lot of the interior issues that keep us from being our best creative selves. One of the main themes of the book is synchronicity, where it seems like multiple coincidences are happening. Think a series of events that answer questions asked or solidify thoughts that one is indeed on the right path. During the final week, one works on a sense of faith (trust) and releasing things that bog down our creativity.
Just yesterday morning I filled three pages of my journal with all the bad habits, fears, anger, resentment and pains that I am more than willing to release to be a better creative. So it came as no surprise that I was being asked to do the same thing with the way I produce my singing. Since a singer’s voice is so interconnected with one’s emotions, it can be a very difficult hurdle to jump over when asked to alter what one thinks of as “their sound.” My desire to be taken seriously and considered a “real” artist was clouding how I envisioned what I needed to sound like. By asking me to “lighten up” I was really being asked to let go of what I think I SHOULD sound like and just be. Scary, right?
On the way home from rehearsal I kept thinking: what was I gaining by singing “heavy”? Would singing lighter make others think that I had a less “rich” voice? I think on an even deeper level I felt that if I sang with my “lighter” sound, would I like it? Would others? Of course, this is where trust (faith, belief) comes into the picture. By releasing, I was allowing more of my true self to been seen. By having faith in other ideals, I was letting go. Sometimes we think the real us is less interesting than the imagined “us” we want to present to the world.
We study, practice, rehearse and develop as technicians as a way to serve the stories that we tell. We work to make our singing something beautiful, expressive and correct, but more than that, we want to achieve a visceral high where our voice, our acting and our artistic sensibilities are fused into one vessel for some of the greatest music in the world (in my opinion.) Why add something that makes it harder?
One of my favorite quotes is “Leap and the net will appear.” I have been leaping for that last two years and while it seemed like sometimes the net was not underneath me, I have always landed safely. Each artist has his or her own set of hurdles to overcome on their journey to creating, but we must remember that creating is fun and that sometimes the very thing we need to be that magnificent artist is to just to lighten up.
Peace,
Eric
I relate this story because I am in the final week of Julia Cameron’s The Artist Way. For those not familiar, the book is a phenomenal way of tapping into our own creativity and releasing a lot of the interior issues that keep us from being our best creative selves. One of the main themes of the book is synchronicity, where it seems like multiple coincidences are happening. Think a series of events that answer questions asked or solidify thoughts that one is indeed on the right path. During the final week, one works on a sense of faith (trust) and releasing things that bog down our creativity.
Just yesterday morning I filled three pages of my journal with all the bad habits, fears, anger, resentment and pains that I am more than willing to release to be a better creative. So it came as no surprise that I was being asked to do the same thing with the way I produce my singing. Since a singer’s voice is so interconnected with one’s emotions, it can be a very difficult hurdle to jump over when asked to alter what one thinks of as “their sound.” My desire to be taken seriously and considered a “real” artist was clouding how I envisioned what I needed to sound like. By asking me to “lighten up” I was really being asked to let go of what I think I SHOULD sound like and just be. Scary, right?
On the way home from rehearsal I kept thinking: what was I gaining by singing “heavy”? Would singing lighter make others think that I had a less “rich” voice? I think on an even deeper level I felt that if I sang with my “lighter” sound, would I like it? Would others? Of course, this is where trust (faith, belief) comes into the picture. By releasing, I was allowing more of my true self to been seen. By having faith in other ideals, I was letting go. Sometimes we think the real us is less interesting than the imagined “us” we want to present to the world.
We study, practice, rehearse and develop as technicians as a way to serve the stories that we tell. We work to make our singing something beautiful, expressive and correct, but more than that, we want to achieve a visceral high where our voice, our acting and our artistic sensibilities are fused into one vessel for some of the greatest music in the world (in my opinion.) Why add something that makes it harder?
One of my favorite quotes is “Leap and the net will appear.” I have been leaping for that last two years and while it seemed like sometimes the net was not underneath me, I have always landed safely. Each artist has his or her own set of hurdles to overcome on their journey to creating, but we must remember that creating is fun and that sometimes the very thing we need to be that magnificent artist is to just to lighten up.
Peace,
Eric
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