One of the great joys of learning and performing a role is that more than likely you will get to do it again. I am experencing the joy of singing Schaunard in excerpts of La boheme with St. Petersburg Opera as part of the holiday concert called Seasonal Sparkle (great name, right?) The other joy is taking what you have learned from your coachings and lessons and previous productions and bringing that to the table. What's always interesting to me is that often a singer will have to "make adjustments" to what they have done in the past in order to perfomer in the present. An example of this is that last conductor wanted the character of Schaunard to bring a lightness to his talky text, while the conductor I am currently working with is much more into a broader vocal line so as the singer I have to jump to the now and sing it the way they are asking. This does two things: 1) It gives the conductor faith in your ability to be led and 2) it shows that your technique is flexible enough to make the change and quickly. One of the worst things a singer can do is to say the dreaded "I can only do it this way" line which can make one come off not only as a diva/divo, but as someone who doesn't show trust in the conductor's wishes. Now, I'm not saying that you have to give in if something is clearly not working for you, but the push-pull that is so necessary in music is also necessary in the conductor-singer dynamic. It's really about creating trust on both sides and if the singer puts up a wall, then the conductor thinks to themselves, well this singer may be good, but they are missing out on the opportunity to be great.
Something else that changes how one sings a role they've done before is their colleagues. A different Colline certainly affects the way I sing Schuanard. A different point of view from the director will color how I approach the entire character that up til now, I thought I had figured out. It makes it fun to create that push-pull with another set of singing actors who bring their own energies, colors and thoughts to the table. Performing a familiar role with new people actually can keep the freshness of the character and helps to bring out new colors.
The final joy of doing a role again is that you can "play" a lot more. Often we get so caught up in our performance that we forget that we are onstage with other people. Each person brings their strengths and weaknesses to the stage and part of the joy of rehearsal (and sometimes performance) is going with the flow and working with what you are given. It can be really great to share some insight you might have about your character with someone who is singing their role for the first time. This spark of information may lead to that light bulb moment and the next thing you know, you and that actor have a "bit" that only you two know about, but that makes a particular moment special onstage.
As I prepare for the performance, I look forward to what my current boheme colleagues bring to the stage and what special moments we can create to keep not only Schaunard fresh, but this timeless work which seems as relevant today as it did when it premiered.
Peace,
Eric
Friday, December 16, 2011
Saturday, December 3, 2011
And one of them is black
I’m currently in rehearsals for a January production of “Amahl and the Night Visitors.” Believe it or not, this is my first time singing this beautiful work by Gian Carlo Menotti. Written for the NBC Opera, it premiered on Christmas Eve, 1951. The opera tells the story of Amahl, a small cripple boy and his Mother and the night they are visited by the Three Wise Men (Kings) following the Star. I am making my debut in the role of Balthazar, the black king.
One of the best lines in the show is when Amahl is responding to the knocks on the door and each time, as he opens the door wider and wider, he sees that there are three Kings in total. He alerts his Mother and on the third time informs her that there are indeed three Kings and one of them is black. It’s one a handful of humorous moments in the opera that still ring true today almost 60 years later.
As a black man in opera I am usually the only person of color in the room (unless it’s a production of Porgy and Bess in which case you can’t swing a cooked ham hock without knocking over another baritone singing “I got plenty o’ nuttin’.) I have come to terms with being “the black” in the show and feel pretty cool about it all. (Note that back in the day, I used to think that no would ever hire me because I was black…and short, but then Lawrence Brownlee came along and ruined that excuse I was content to make. Thanks a lot, Larry!) I realized that if I was really great, I mean really great, I just might convince that Artistic Director to hire me. And I can say that so far that has worked. I have sung everything from Mozart to Gilbert and Sullivan to musical theatre and in most cases, my skin color was not an issue.
However there are two (funny?) stories where my race was an issue. Story number one involves working in a production of The Secret Garden where I was not only expected to sing and act the role of Major Holmes, but I also had to learn sign language because the production featured deaf actors. I was also cast to be the “voice” for the deaf actor who played Ben. Probably the most challenging component of this piece, outside of throwing opera and musical theatre people together with deaf actors, was coordinating the acting of the deaf actor playing Ben and me voicing the role (dialogue and singing.) After a particularly tense rehearsal where the Ben actor and I were not lining up with his sign language and my singing, the director asked the actor (using a sign language interpreter) if he could see me. He signed something and the sign language interpreter went beet red. When I asked her what he said. She turned me and responded “Too black.” I wasn’t sure whether to laugh hysterically or cry hysterically, but I do know that I felt some form of hysteria coming on, but I wasn’t sure which. Needless to say that I was pissed at him for days and decided not to speak to him, but then I realized…Anyway after the production ended I found out that it had never really been an issue for him. Most people who use sign language are not trying to create a poetic interpretation of what they mean. They just say it!
Story number two involves performing as a Young Artist with (unnamed) opera company at a major function where the crowd was drunk and not listening and I was irritated because we (me and the other Young Artists) were running late in getting to the event. After singing my first aria to a crowd of people who were clearly more interested in hearing what the bartender had to offer, I left the large conference room and waited in the hall. One of the drunken audience members was clearly looking for someone or something so I was not surprised when he came up to me. What DID surprise me was when he attempted to place a drink order. Before he could complete his order I said, in my most authoritative and irritated voice, “I don’t work here!” I then turned in an operatic huff and walked back into the room to finish my part in what was probably one my least favorite performing experiences. After the event ended, my colleague who is now a dear friend, found it very funny not only that the guy had tried to order a drink from me, but also how dramatic my response to him had been. After a few hours of sulking, I had to admit that the situation did have a humorous spin to it and I could indeed laugh.
I relay these stories not to say that being black in opera is any harder than being too short, too tall, too heavy, too skinny, too this or too that. When we signed up for the life of an opera singer, we knew that there would be challenges and that some people would have no desire to hire us based on our voice, our height or the fact that the tie we are wearing has the same color as the eyes of the person that dumped them in tenth grade. We work in the entertainment field and people hire who they believe will do the best job. Sometimes they want that 6 foot 4 baritone who looks like George Clooney, but the good news, and it is good news, is that sometimes they want the 5’8” bald African American baritone who sings Rossini. Good thing I’m out there and can do it!
Peace,
Eric
One of the best lines in the show is when Amahl is responding to the knocks on the door and each time, as he opens the door wider and wider, he sees that there are three Kings in total. He alerts his Mother and on the third time informs her that there are indeed three Kings and one of them is black. It’s one a handful of humorous moments in the opera that still ring true today almost 60 years later.
As a black man in opera I am usually the only person of color in the room (unless it’s a production of Porgy and Bess in which case you can’t swing a cooked ham hock without knocking over another baritone singing “I got plenty o’ nuttin’.) I have come to terms with being “the black” in the show and feel pretty cool about it all. (Note that back in the day, I used to think that no would ever hire me because I was black…and short, but then Lawrence Brownlee came along and ruined that excuse I was content to make. Thanks a lot, Larry!) I realized that if I was really great, I mean really great, I just might convince that Artistic Director to hire me. And I can say that so far that has worked. I have sung everything from Mozart to Gilbert and Sullivan to musical theatre and in most cases, my skin color was not an issue.
However there are two (funny?) stories where my race was an issue. Story number one involves working in a production of The Secret Garden where I was not only expected to sing and act the role of Major Holmes, but I also had to learn sign language because the production featured deaf actors. I was also cast to be the “voice” for the deaf actor who played Ben. Probably the most challenging component of this piece, outside of throwing opera and musical theatre people together with deaf actors, was coordinating the acting of the deaf actor playing Ben and me voicing the role (dialogue and singing.) After a particularly tense rehearsal where the Ben actor and I were not lining up with his sign language and my singing, the director asked the actor (using a sign language interpreter) if he could see me. He signed something and the sign language interpreter went beet red. When I asked her what he said. She turned me and responded “Too black.” I wasn’t sure whether to laugh hysterically or cry hysterically, but I do know that I felt some form of hysteria coming on, but I wasn’t sure which. Needless to say that I was pissed at him for days and decided not to speak to him, but then I realized…Anyway after the production ended I found out that it had never really been an issue for him. Most people who use sign language are not trying to create a poetic interpretation of what they mean. They just say it!
Story number two involves performing as a Young Artist with (unnamed) opera company at a major function where the crowd was drunk and not listening and I was irritated because we (me and the other Young Artists) were running late in getting to the event. After singing my first aria to a crowd of people who were clearly more interested in hearing what the bartender had to offer, I left the large conference room and waited in the hall. One of the drunken audience members was clearly looking for someone or something so I was not surprised when he came up to me. What DID surprise me was when he attempted to place a drink order. Before he could complete his order I said, in my most authoritative and irritated voice, “I don’t work here!” I then turned in an operatic huff and walked back into the room to finish my part in what was probably one my least favorite performing experiences. After the event ended, my colleague who is now a dear friend, found it very funny not only that the guy had tried to order a drink from me, but also how dramatic my response to him had been. After a few hours of sulking, I had to admit that the situation did have a humorous spin to it and I could indeed laugh.
I relay these stories not to say that being black in opera is any harder than being too short, too tall, too heavy, too skinny, too this or too that. When we signed up for the life of an opera singer, we knew that there would be challenges and that some people would have no desire to hire us based on our voice, our height or the fact that the tie we are wearing has the same color as the eyes of the person that dumped them in tenth grade. We work in the entertainment field and people hire who they believe will do the best job. Sometimes they want that 6 foot 4 baritone who looks like George Clooney, but the good news, and it is good news, is that sometimes they want the 5’8” bald African American baritone who sings Rossini. Good thing I’m out there and can do it!
Peace,
Eric
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