“ This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.”-Leonard Bernstein
The Connecticut tragedy really affected me on many levels. Perhaps that I am in a relationship with someone who is a teacher, perhaps that I spent many of my formative years as a singer working in schools, perhaps because I worked in arts education for six years and saw the power of music to heal and bring people together or perhaps because it is a senseless act that has affected so many innocent people.
At the same time, I was in rehearsals for a production of “Amahl and the Night Visitors” singing my second Balthazar and also making my debut with the Lebanon Symphony in Handel’s Messiah. It was the above phrase that made my performances seem relevant to those who had come not only to hear the beautiful music, but also possibly to connect on a deeper level. I allowed myself to go beyond just sounding good and really aimed to connect to the miraculous natures of both works.
Two magical moments came to me: one could argue that they were out of body experiences or where I felt as though I were a vessel for something greater. Moment one is when Amahl realizes that he can walk after deciding to be selfless and give his crutch to the child. The talented young singer portraying the role certainly had a handle on the dramatic and vocal challenges, but there was something so real about that moment that when Balthazar sings “He walks,” I felt a chill of the divine. The second amazing moment was singing Handel’s glorious “The trumpet shall sound.” It is the very last thing the bass soloist sings and is a tour-de-force of a piece. I made a conscious choice to “give over” to the music and ride along as opposed to trying to “compete” with the orchestra. I found it to be one of those exceptional moments where music, drama, text and spirit were all aligned and I was simply a conduit for something greater. I had complete and utter trust in the conductor, the orchestra and my own talent and allowed to let go and simply connect. The reaction from people was that it was a magnificent "performance", but what they don't know is that I was not thinking of the performance aspect at all and was aiming to convey the powerful message. Perhaps we must give ourselves completely to the music in order to bring our best "performance" forward.
I left the weekend still very aware of the tragic events of Connecticut, but also of the magical power of music and its ability to unite. Two very different composers, two very different vocal demands and two very different settings and yet the end result; to be moved, to be a vessel for great works and to share my artistry not to impress, but to express; were consistent.
It gave me such joy to be able to be part of these wonderful works. To show my reaction to the darkness of violence, I was part of bringing the light of music to heal myself, those in the audience and hopefully, in some indirect way, the world.
Peace,
Eric
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Interview with a budget fashion diva
Soprano Karolyn Lee seems to channel divas from the past while still embodying a fresh, contemporary style. In addition to her fashion sense, she has a strikingly beautiful voice that flows easily up the scale, is a compelling actress and possesses that certain je ne sais quoi that makes you watch her every move. I recently spoke to Karolyn about her extraordinary ability to always look fashionable.
E: First of all, where did you go to school?
K: I have a Master’s degree in vocal performance/ pedagogy from Ohio University. I also hold a BA in performance from Slippery Rock University of PA. I am currently singing the role of Musetta with Opera Columbus. I also have performed the roles of Fiordiligi, Arminda, Clorinda and Gretel to name a few.
E: How would you describe your style?
K: I would describe myself as always properly dressed for every occasion. I take influences from every time period. I love the Vintage era, classics that never go out of style, and the 80s are always present in my wardrobe. I also favor bold colors, but the key to making any outfit pop is the accessories!!! Overall, I would say my style evolves; I never stay in one place.
E: Where do you find your fantastic finds?
K: Really, I do most of my shopping at Marshall's, TJ Max, NY and Company. I shop discount stores where you find name brands.
E: Amazing. How do you put together such fabulous outfits on a budget?
K: I shop for name brands such as Michael Kors at stores that sell them at half price, such as Marshall's. You need to take time at these places to find the good buys. I also read fashion magazines such as Essence to see looks and then try to duplicate them within my budget. Sometimes I actually take a magazine with me to use as a reference!
E: That’s fantastic. I would love to run into you, magazine-in-hand and looking through the racks. So based on your research, what are the must-haves for fall/winter?
K: Fur, faux or real, either way it makes a statement!
Black pointed shoes
Legwarmers / leggins
Sweater dress with bold colors
Bold conversation piece jewelry
Long accordion pleated black dress
Clover green cocktail dress
Flamboyant flowers for hair decor
E: That’s an amazing list. When you dress for an audition, besides your singing and acting, what is it that you want to tell the audition panel about yourself through your clothes?
K: That I can reinvent myself in many ways. For example, if I'm auditioning for the role of Musetta, I'm not going to wear a simple black dress. I'm going to wear a dress with BOLD color. I'm telling the panel that I'm ready to play the vixen. A vixen does not wear black or gray. In addition, you want to look young and fresh since youth is such a factor in opera these days. I like to do something that makes me stand out like adding a flower for that extra flair!
E: Finally, what three things should ladies know in to enhance their style?
K: Accessories, hair and makeup must be on point!! Your look should complement who you are and what you are singing. Opera is about being a total package so wrap that package up in great things that truly flatter everything about you.
E: Well thanks for giving the operatic ladies out there some shopping tips for how to be stylish on a budget. I don't know if they'll all look as amazing as you, but at least they now have some tools.
Peace,
Eric
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Strangers on a Plane
I tend to be the person who does not want to make small talk on a plane. I either want to eat my sandwich, do my Sudoku or simply fall asleep (or at least pretend to be sleeping so I don’t have to chit-chat about where I am going.) A friend recently told me that I should invest in a hat that says: Ask me about Jesus and also sport a t-shirt that says: Ask me about the devil. This would surely keep the “talkers” away and allow for some puzzle-solving, sandwich-eating peace.
So today, as I flew back to New York after singing for the opening of a new Hilton in Columbus and the last performance of the fall run of La Boheme for Opera Columbus, I encountered two talkers who wanted to know the usual. They seemed nice enough so I engaged them in conversation (doing more than my usual answer of questions in short spurts without returning the favor by inquiring about them.) I asked what they were doing and we chatted for several minutes about their kids, their travels and the like. When it got to my career, they seemed very impressed that I was an opera singer. They were very sweet. I realized that perhaps, I don’t have to be a sour puss and could actually be a charming, kind person. Just then the guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a card. He turned out to be someone who worked in opera and handed me his card.
I started thinking that many times in life, we just stay to ourselves. We connect more with our phones and puzzles and in my case, food and forget that there is life happening all around us. My new roommate and I were talking about this phenomenon. She told me of something she heard recently where a girlfriend of hers mentioned that “...we are no longing going on line, but we are online.” We’ve become so engrossed in our own selves either through technology or books or other means and don’t realize that the art of talking/connecting with people face-to-face is a dying art.
So the moral of this tale is that through connecting with people, anything can happen. Had I remained quiet, I would have never learned anything about these lovely people or been given an opportunity that was literally sitting there waiting for me. So the next time you want to accomplish something, don’t just open up your laptop, open your eyes as the opportunity might be sitting next to you in the form of a stranger on a plane.
Peace,
Eric
So today, as I flew back to New York after singing for the opening of a new Hilton in Columbus and the last performance of the fall run of La Boheme for Opera Columbus, I encountered two talkers who wanted to know the usual. They seemed nice enough so I engaged them in conversation (doing more than my usual answer of questions in short spurts without returning the favor by inquiring about them.) I asked what they were doing and we chatted for several minutes about their kids, their travels and the like. When it got to my career, they seemed very impressed that I was an opera singer. They were very sweet. I realized that perhaps, I don’t have to be a sour puss and could actually be a charming, kind person. Just then the guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a card. He turned out to be someone who worked in opera and handed me his card.
I started thinking that many times in life, we just stay to ourselves. We connect more with our phones and puzzles and in my case, food and forget that there is life happening all around us. My new roommate and I were talking about this phenomenon. She told me of something she heard recently where a girlfriend of hers mentioned that “...we are no longing going on line, but we are online.” We’ve become so engrossed in our own selves either through technology or books or other means and don’t realize that the art of talking/connecting with people face-to-face is a dying art.
So the moral of this tale is that through connecting with people, anything can happen. Had I remained quiet, I would have never learned anything about these lovely people or been given an opportunity that was literally sitting there waiting for me. So the next time you want to accomplish something, don’t just open up your laptop, open your eyes as the opportunity might be sitting next to you in the form of a stranger on a plane.
Peace,
Eric
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Opera: fresh, new and served up in an hour
I am in the midst of performances of an updated 1-hour version of La Bohème in English. The purpose of these performances is two-fold: 1) Opera Columbus is looking to reinvent itself and 2) Opera Columbus is looking to find a way to introduce people to opera in a streamlined, digestible and modern way.
This idea of taking a traditional opera and bringing it into an intimate setting is catching fire all over the country and many opera companies are redoing the classics stripping away the distance and bringing the opera closer to its (hopefully new) audience. I have always believed that for opera to survive it had to go two ways, more grandeur so as to compete with the likes of movies and music and also more intimate to make the entire experience less intimidating. The Met and other large companies have the resources to take care of the granduer, but smaller companies have had to find ways to bring operatic experiences to audiences on a smaller (and cheaper) scale. And like introducing someone to any new art form, education has to be the FIRST step. (Gets off of soapbox.)
In truth, there are people who might see an opera, but the perception of opera is skewed with visions of ladies in horns and large men with handkerchiefs (still.) On the flip side, people see Katherine Jenkins, Josh Groban and Andrea Boccelli and assume that they are top-tier opera singers and if they’ve attended one of their concerts then they feel as though they have experienced “opera.” This, of course, can make it tough to enlighten people about the reality of opera. But I see opera companies (new and old) becoming incredibly aggressive about connecting to audiences by offering something new and fresh alongside the traditional. It is breathing new life into the artform. Bringing people to the theater whether to see an hour-long intimate production in English or that same opera in its original grandeur, one must make it relatable.
There are purists who wish that people would just love opera as it is, but I had a revelation about why opera is a challenge for modern society: we live in a world where we can access information (and answers) at the drop of a hat. We are also living in a highly digital age. Opera demands that we listen and concentrate for an extended period of time. It also requires a certain level of critical thinking regarding what to listen for, how to process the story line and give one’s self over to the conventions of opera.
So, I am excited about this hour-long production meant to entice people to "try” opera. It allows people to experience the beauty of the operatic voice in a production that surrounds and envelops. It also has an immediacy that removes the language and distance barriers. Should every company do every opera this way? No. But should companies looking to draw people to an artform that spans hundreds of years find additional and creative ways to introduce it so that people will be more likely to attend a full-scale production? Yes!
Peace,
Eric
This idea of taking a traditional opera and bringing it into an intimate setting is catching fire all over the country and many opera companies are redoing the classics stripping away the distance and bringing the opera closer to its (hopefully new) audience. I have always believed that for opera to survive it had to go two ways, more grandeur so as to compete with the likes of movies and music and also more intimate to make the entire experience less intimidating. The Met and other large companies have the resources to take care of the granduer, but smaller companies have had to find ways to bring operatic experiences to audiences on a smaller (and cheaper) scale. And like introducing someone to any new art form, education has to be the FIRST step. (Gets off of soapbox.)
In truth, there are people who might see an opera, but the perception of opera is skewed with visions of ladies in horns and large men with handkerchiefs (still.) On the flip side, people see Katherine Jenkins, Josh Groban and Andrea Boccelli and assume that they are top-tier opera singers and if they’ve attended one of their concerts then they feel as though they have experienced “opera.” This, of course, can make it tough to enlighten people about the reality of opera. But I see opera companies (new and old) becoming incredibly aggressive about connecting to audiences by offering something new and fresh alongside the traditional. It is breathing new life into the artform. Bringing people to the theater whether to see an hour-long intimate production in English or that same opera in its original grandeur, one must make it relatable.
There are purists who wish that people would just love opera as it is, but I had a revelation about why opera is a challenge for modern society: we live in a world where we can access information (and answers) at the drop of a hat. We are also living in a highly digital age. Opera demands that we listen and concentrate for an extended period of time. It also requires a certain level of critical thinking regarding what to listen for, how to process the story line and give one’s self over to the conventions of opera.
So, I am excited about this hour-long production meant to entice people to "try” opera. It allows people to experience the beauty of the operatic voice in a production that surrounds and envelops. It also has an immediacy that removes the language and distance barriers. Should every company do every opera this way? No. But should companies looking to draw people to an artform that spans hundreds of years find additional and creative ways to introduce it so that people will be more likely to attend a full-scale production? Yes!
Peace,
Eric
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Take it to heart
One of the most fascinating components about opera is that no matter the language, the composer or the story, all of the emotional content contained within comes at a heightened state. If the character is joyful, not only does the text reflect it, but the music finds a way to tell the audience that the character is happy. In truth, they are filled with intense joy or could literally die from bliss. In turn, if a character is sad, then that sadness is guaranteed to be so deep that it can bring the audience to the brink of tears. If two characters are in love, then not only will they sing about it for ten minutes (or more), but it is the epitome of the greatest love ever.
Being an opera singer we must not only sing well, but connect with each character’s emotional state. In the last few months I have sung a Barber who loves the life he leads of uniting lovers and being the general factotum, a Toreador who falls for a gypsy, but also loves himself quite a bit and currently a starving artist painter who has a fantastic, yet highly dysfunctional relationship with his on-again, off-again girlfriend. I have always found comedy much easier to play because I am by nature a silly person and that tends to be the side that I am most comfortable showing to people. I find playing dramatic situations much more difficult because it is exposing one’s self in a vulnerable way. Comedy is about beats and build-up, contrasts and not being afraid to look foolish. In a way, I can immerse myself in the character while at the same time bring myself to the surface. Drama is the same, but showing that side of myself is still a challenge. However, the great thing is that this season is filled with roles that dare me to go to those very real, bare places and really connect.
During one our final rehearsals for La Bohème, we were going through Act III, the highly charged emotional scene where Mimi and Rodolfo decide to reunite even though she has just discovered she is dying. In the same scene, Musetta and Marcello are having a knockdown, drag-out fight and decide to go their separate ways. It is an incredible scene filled with grand passion and grand hostility. The soprano singing Mimi was in the middle of the scene and had to stop as she had “crossed over” into the place where it became quite real and she started crying. An actor reciting lines can keep going, but it is rare that a singer can keep performing when deep emotions and tears begin to surface. We stopped and took a break, but when we started the scene again, I heard a difference in her voice. Something had opened up and her sound became fuller, richer, and more beautiful. What followed then was something I wish I could find every single time I perform. The scene between Musetta and Marcello connected to a level of intensity we had never had. (Clarification: This is not to say that we didn’t have chemistry, but this was deeper and it was almost dangerous and exciting.) It gave us a chance to see how far we could go. Flirting with such emotional rawness felt exhilarating and I knew in that moment that I wanted to go to this place over and over again.
Drama, for me, means delving into emotional truths that help me understand a man who is incredibly vain, has dealt with betrayal in a relationship and who has felt the loss of someone close to them. As someone who tries to maintain a great outlook on life and be happy in every moment, it has proven to be a fascinating journey into past pain, feelings and memories to cross the bridge from myself and meet the slew of operatic men I am to portray. Many are dealing with issues ranging from the loss of love, a fugitive on the run or one who must deliver soul-crushing news. Some would say I am have that touch of the dramatic in me so it should be easy to access, but I know that to do real justice to the dramatic side, one must burrow through the gunk of our pasts and not only feel comfortable enough to show it to an audience, but do it all the while singing at a high emotional state.
Audiences of the past want the greatest possible vocal performance, while new audiences demand truth and realism. As a 21st century opera singer, I am faced with trying to sing at the highest technical level possible while also giving the audience 100% of the expressive nature of the character. Each singer must remain in two moments (vocal and dramatic) that when married, proves the extraordinary power of opera. Back to the practice room!
Peace,
Eric
Being an opera singer we must not only sing well, but connect with each character’s emotional state. In the last few months I have sung a Barber who loves the life he leads of uniting lovers and being the general factotum, a Toreador who falls for a gypsy, but also loves himself quite a bit and currently a starving artist painter who has a fantastic, yet highly dysfunctional relationship with his on-again, off-again girlfriend. I have always found comedy much easier to play because I am by nature a silly person and that tends to be the side that I am most comfortable showing to people. I find playing dramatic situations much more difficult because it is exposing one’s self in a vulnerable way. Comedy is about beats and build-up, contrasts and not being afraid to look foolish. In a way, I can immerse myself in the character while at the same time bring myself to the surface. Drama is the same, but showing that side of myself is still a challenge. However, the great thing is that this season is filled with roles that dare me to go to those very real, bare places and really connect.
During one our final rehearsals for La Bohème, we were going through Act III, the highly charged emotional scene where Mimi and Rodolfo decide to reunite even though she has just discovered she is dying. In the same scene, Musetta and Marcello are having a knockdown, drag-out fight and decide to go their separate ways. It is an incredible scene filled with grand passion and grand hostility. The soprano singing Mimi was in the middle of the scene and had to stop as she had “crossed over” into the place where it became quite real and she started crying. An actor reciting lines can keep going, but it is rare that a singer can keep performing when deep emotions and tears begin to surface. We stopped and took a break, but when we started the scene again, I heard a difference in her voice. Something had opened up and her sound became fuller, richer, and more beautiful. What followed then was something I wish I could find every single time I perform. The scene between Musetta and Marcello connected to a level of intensity we had never had. (Clarification: This is not to say that we didn’t have chemistry, but this was deeper and it was almost dangerous and exciting.) It gave us a chance to see how far we could go. Flirting with such emotional rawness felt exhilarating and I knew in that moment that I wanted to go to this place over and over again.
Drama, for me, means delving into emotional truths that help me understand a man who is incredibly vain, has dealt with betrayal in a relationship and who has felt the loss of someone close to them. As someone who tries to maintain a great outlook on life and be happy in every moment, it has proven to be a fascinating journey into past pain, feelings and memories to cross the bridge from myself and meet the slew of operatic men I am to portray. Many are dealing with issues ranging from the loss of love, a fugitive on the run or one who must deliver soul-crushing news. Some would say I am have that touch of the dramatic in me so it should be easy to access, but I know that to do real justice to the dramatic side, one must burrow through the gunk of our pasts and not only feel comfortable enough to show it to an audience, but do it all the while singing at a high emotional state.
Audiences of the past want the greatest possible vocal performance, while new audiences demand truth and realism. As a 21st century opera singer, I am faced with trying to sing at the highest technical level possible while also giving the audience 100% of the expressive nature of the character. Each singer must remain in two moments (vocal and dramatic) that when married, proves the extraordinary power of opera. Back to the practice room!
Peace,
Eric
Thursday, October 11, 2012
And I'm worth it
I know some wonderful people. Many of them know me as “an artist.” But many of them have no idea exactly what I do as an opera singer. Many of them think it is cool, some think it’s interesting and others are not sure what to think, but often ask me what “play” I am working on.
I often get asked to burst into impromptu “opera” by folks looking to impress someone. After returning to singing full-time I made a rule that I would no longer sing at someone’s birthday party, in a restaurant or on the spot because 1) It made me feel like “the help” and I couldn’t relax and just enjoy myself and 2) I value the years of training and expense that it has taken to become an opera singer and I don’t think someone can experience the real “voice” unless they see me in my full element (a performance.) This is not to say that if someone influential asked me to burst into song that I wouldn’t. I am always looking for work! But just being the “party trick” does not serve me as an artist. No one would ever ask a visual artist to just “draw something to take home” or a podiatrist to “look at my feet for a hot second.” So why is it that musicians (singers especially) are always asked to stop, drop and sing?
There was a recent article about musicians that went unpaid by the London Organizing Committee of the Olympic and Paralympic games in the Huffington Post:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/07/30/london-olympics-musicians_n_1719850.html
In the article, the Musician’s Union of the UK states that the Committee repeatedly sent emails to professional musicians saying: “Would you like to play? We haven’t got a budget for it, but it would be great exposure to you.” This is interesting in that the article also states that headlining artists saw an increase in their music sales, but other musicians saw no compensation from “exposure” especially since their names were nowhere to be found on television or online. And by the way, “exposure” does not pay the bills.
Please understand, I love what I do and on rare occasion I will sing for free. However, I don’t want it to be an expectation and I also know what it “costs” me every time I sing. The people who ask for a show on the spot, have no idea of the hours spent in the practice room trying to line up the voice or learn how to sing a good “ah” vowel. They don’t see the process; just simply want a sample of the product. I get it. They also don’t understand that like an athlete, there is a warm-up process that needs to happen and if you are sitting at a table enjoying a meal and a glass of wine, the last thing you want to think about is if you’ve got phlegm on your cords.
Because I take what I do to be so ingrained into my own self, I have had to develop a sense of what I have to offer and its worth. Yes, there are tons of singers out there and yes, there are some performance opportunities that one takes on because it feeds your artistic soul more than your belly, but as someone in business for themselves, the product (our talent) has to be nurtured and cared for. It is how I make my living and having someone want to hear it is flattering, but I now tell them, it will be much more impressive if you hear me in performance because you will get a real understanding of what I do. And, I think, a better understanding of the artform as a whole and that what I do is just a part.
Ultimately each artist much decide what they will do and for how much. We all are striving to make a living doing what we love and we should love it enough that it’s all we think about doing for our careers. Many professionals do things pro bono because they believe in giving back and I agree that there are times when I can do that (and have). But I also know that just like every professional who has gone to school, trained, mastered and sacrificed, the thought of someone trivializing what you are passionate about can be frustrating.
So “no” I will not sing at your birthday, bar-mitzvah, wedding, graduation soiree, son’s first poo-party or any other event for free. However, if you are interested in contracting me for something, you can contact me via my website: www.ericmckeeverbaritone.com. Just like the person you hire to create a spectacular event or design a kick-ass website, our time and talent have a worth and if you want to experience it, plunk down the cash and get your money’s worth in a fantastic performance.
Peace,
Eric
I often get asked to burst into impromptu “opera” by folks looking to impress someone. After returning to singing full-time I made a rule that I would no longer sing at someone’s birthday party, in a restaurant or on the spot because 1) It made me feel like “the help” and I couldn’t relax and just enjoy myself and 2) I value the years of training and expense that it has taken to become an opera singer and I don’t think someone can experience the real “voice” unless they see me in my full element (a performance.) This is not to say that if someone influential asked me to burst into song that I wouldn’t. I am always looking for work! But just being the “party trick” does not serve me as an artist. No one would ever ask a visual artist to just “draw something to take home” or a podiatrist to “look at my feet for a hot second.” So why is it that musicians (singers especially) are always asked to stop, drop and sing?
There was a recent article about musicians that went unpaid by the London Organizing Committee of the Olympic and Paralympic games in the Huffington Post:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/07/30/london-olympics-musicians_n_1719850.html
In the article, the Musician’s Union of the UK states that the Committee repeatedly sent emails to professional musicians saying: “Would you like to play? We haven’t got a budget for it, but it would be great exposure to you.” This is interesting in that the article also states that headlining artists saw an increase in their music sales, but other musicians saw no compensation from “exposure” especially since their names were nowhere to be found on television or online. And by the way, “exposure” does not pay the bills.
Please understand, I love what I do and on rare occasion I will sing for free. However, I don’t want it to be an expectation and I also know what it “costs” me every time I sing. The people who ask for a show on the spot, have no idea of the hours spent in the practice room trying to line up the voice or learn how to sing a good “ah” vowel. They don’t see the process; just simply want a sample of the product. I get it. They also don’t understand that like an athlete, there is a warm-up process that needs to happen and if you are sitting at a table enjoying a meal and a glass of wine, the last thing you want to think about is if you’ve got phlegm on your cords.
Because I take what I do to be so ingrained into my own self, I have had to develop a sense of what I have to offer and its worth. Yes, there are tons of singers out there and yes, there are some performance opportunities that one takes on because it feeds your artistic soul more than your belly, but as someone in business for themselves, the product (our talent) has to be nurtured and cared for. It is how I make my living and having someone want to hear it is flattering, but I now tell them, it will be much more impressive if you hear me in performance because you will get a real understanding of what I do. And, I think, a better understanding of the artform as a whole and that what I do is just a part.
Ultimately each artist much decide what they will do and for how much. We all are striving to make a living doing what we love and we should love it enough that it’s all we think about doing for our careers. Many professionals do things pro bono because they believe in giving back and I agree that there are times when I can do that (and have). But I also know that just like every professional who has gone to school, trained, mastered and sacrificed, the thought of someone trivializing what you are passionate about can be frustrating.
So “no” I will not sing at your birthday, bar-mitzvah, wedding, graduation soiree, son’s first poo-party or any other event for free. However, if you are interested in contracting me for something, you can contact me via my website: www.ericmckeeverbaritone.com. Just like the person you hire to create a spectacular event or design a kick-ass website, our time and talent have a worth and if you want to experience it, plunk down the cash and get your money’s worth in a fantastic performance.
Peace,
Eric
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Transitions
In about a month, I am making the move to NYC. I am feeling all the things one expects to feel about picking up one’s life and going to the Big Apple: excitement about the energy of that city, fear that it will bring about unexpected struggles, joy that I am not having anxiety-ridden dreams that cause sleepless nights and most importantly a sense of calm, that somehow, all of this is going to not only work out, but will work out well.
I am currently in rehearsals with Opera Columbus who is doing a hip, updated, intimate production of La Bohème . The opera is one of the most-loved operas by audiences, but it also holds a special place in the heart of any opera singer who KNOWS the ins and outs of being a “starving artist.” A few years ago, I adopted the phrase “No longer a starving artist, but a successful creative.” I really liked the idea of being a successful creative and was fortunate enough to be surrounded by graphic designers, freelance artists and those who owned their own businesses that sold creativity to others. It showed me that not only was it possible, but that one could be very successful doing so. Still, something in me decided it was safer to give up singing and move into the administrative side of opera. I was working in the field and was doing well, but there was a longing for that creativity. Being the all or nothing person that I am, I auditioned for the National Tour of Porgy and Bess (the operatic version, not the current musical theater version that should be coming to a theater near you soon) and I got offered a role. I had to make a decision: go for it and hope that once the tour was over there would be other opportunities or stay in my current job and just sing locally in order to fulfill my need to perform.
It’s something that many singers who are not based in NYC go through. There is a need for security, routine and most importantly, money! I only had a few days to make a decision and I thought to myself, what would make me the happiest. I didn’t think about being rational as I had been rational for the last few years and I wasn’t really happy. So I decided to go for it. The tour was a wonderful and well-paying opportunity. I believed that somehow other things would come and while they did, the few months after that were EXTREMELY difficult. I almost gave up (and that was living in Columbus.)
Cut to three years later and I am fortunate that I am working quite a bit with engagements all over the country, but financially it can still be tough. I have to do everything from cater work, temping and improv murder mysteries (which I really enjoy!) to supplement the opera/concert work. There is something extremely liberating and terrifying about being self-employed. I celebrate each job I get and love depositing each check that I earn knowing that I did it (with the help of a lot of other people!) And yet, what kind of person does it take to truly become a full-time working singer? There are two kinds:
1) The singer who has an extraordinary gift and has “it” who goes from school to major Young Artist Program, to agent to mainstage work all over the globe in a short amount of time
2) The rest of us who have to sing, teach, act, temp, wait upon, nanny, write, read and do everything we can to simply survive. And yet, we love every minute of it because we are listening to our higher self that is telling us that this is what we are supposed to do.
I am fortunate enough to know many singers who, like me, are also in transition. Some are transitioning for the scholastic world into young professional, some are transitioning from years of singing with every small house in the US to careers at the MET, some are transitioning from pursuing the career to moving into another phase of their life by getting married, having children or finding work in another field (even the other side of the operatic table), while still some, like me, are just beginning to build momentum and can see new opportunities around every corner.
We all study singing because we have a love for making music (or for some, they want to be the center of attention in the most heightened state possible.) Depending on where you go to school, you may also get a crash course in the business of opera, how to be the CEO of Your Name, Inc and if you are lucky, build enough contacts that once you graduate, you move right up to the A-list of operatic opportunities. But no matter who you are or where you come from, every singer faces the same question: At what point do I stop being a (insert job here that pays the bills) to a full-time singer? Does the work have to come first or does one have to pursue the work in order for it come? For me, it was getting that one role in the tour that told me that this was the right decision to be a full-time singer. Since then, it has been a series of ups and downs, a mixture of artistic triumphs and personal frustration all the while trying to remember the philosophy of being “a successful creative.”
So to remind myself every day that being an opera singer is my job, I have embraced all the elements of being an opera singer. Of course, being the most prepared I can be musically and dramatically, using all the resources I have to audition for anyone who will hear me, working so I can afford to audition for anyone who will hear me, having a team of people who advise, support and tell me the truth, buying into the social media of being an opera singer, creating programming in order to give myself one more option to perform, being a great colleague because you never know when one of those folks will get you a gig, working harder than what you are getting paid for because it means that you value your work more than you value the check, spending every moment that I can focusing on getting work and doing great work and finally loving it and being grateful for it. We often forget that we are lucky every time we get a singing job because there are those that did NOT get hired. I think of them every time I am tired, grumpy because I have to sing before 10 am, when I have long days, when I have rehearsals that seem pointless, when my colleagues are unprepared, or when I just want to skip a day of singing. I think, just like my mom who paid thousands of dollars for me to go to school and who worked countless overtime just so I could pursue my dream, that I need to think of my life as the “artiste” as one of a 9-5 (or more my case 8 to whenever I get my list of things I want to do accomplished) and know that I am not just the CEO of Eric McKeever, Inc, but also the brand itself which means that I have to be savvy enough to survive the business of opera, but also be someone whose brand (talent, preparation, dramatic skills, etc…) set me apart from the rest of the market.
Thinking back to my days in the conservatory when I was just trying to figure out how to sing the E-flat above middle C without going into falsetto, I marvel at the journey I have taken. I learned to sing in undergrad, learned to sing and act together in grad school, became a professional singer almost by accident, made my rounds in nearly every YAP in the Midwest and beyond, stepped away, wandered for a year, got into the administrative side of opera and finally “found myself” and have been doing what I believe has always been my calling. The one difference from years before is that I believe I deserve it and am ready for it. I know that had I not stepped away, I would have never found the love again, so for me each transition has been a necessary step in becoming the singer I am today.
I look forward to the next transition of singing leading roles with major companies around the world. I will still work very hard to maintain the humility of a student with the ferocious curiosity of an artist because with each transition, I have actually moved closer to the real me and not the” me” that others want me to be.
Peace,
Eric
I am currently in rehearsals with Opera Columbus who is doing a hip, updated, intimate production of La Bohème . The opera is one of the most-loved operas by audiences, but it also holds a special place in the heart of any opera singer who KNOWS the ins and outs of being a “starving artist.” A few years ago, I adopted the phrase “No longer a starving artist, but a successful creative.” I really liked the idea of being a successful creative and was fortunate enough to be surrounded by graphic designers, freelance artists and those who owned their own businesses that sold creativity to others. It showed me that not only was it possible, but that one could be very successful doing so. Still, something in me decided it was safer to give up singing and move into the administrative side of opera. I was working in the field and was doing well, but there was a longing for that creativity. Being the all or nothing person that I am, I auditioned for the National Tour of Porgy and Bess (the operatic version, not the current musical theater version that should be coming to a theater near you soon) and I got offered a role. I had to make a decision: go for it and hope that once the tour was over there would be other opportunities or stay in my current job and just sing locally in order to fulfill my need to perform.
It’s something that many singers who are not based in NYC go through. There is a need for security, routine and most importantly, money! I only had a few days to make a decision and I thought to myself, what would make me the happiest. I didn’t think about being rational as I had been rational for the last few years and I wasn’t really happy. So I decided to go for it. The tour was a wonderful and well-paying opportunity. I believed that somehow other things would come and while they did, the few months after that were EXTREMELY difficult. I almost gave up (and that was living in Columbus.)
Cut to three years later and I am fortunate that I am working quite a bit with engagements all over the country, but financially it can still be tough. I have to do everything from cater work, temping and improv murder mysteries (which I really enjoy!) to supplement the opera/concert work. There is something extremely liberating and terrifying about being self-employed. I celebrate each job I get and love depositing each check that I earn knowing that I did it (with the help of a lot of other people!) And yet, what kind of person does it take to truly become a full-time working singer? There are two kinds:
1) The singer who has an extraordinary gift and has “it” who goes from school to major Young Artist Program, to agent to mainstage work all over the globe in a short amount of time
2) The rest of us who have to sing, teach, act, temp, wait upon, nanny, write, read and do everything we can to simply survive. And yet, we love every minute of it because we are listening to our higher self that is telling us that this is what we are supposed to do.
I am fortunate enough to know many singers who, like me, are also in transition. Some are transitioning for the scholastic world into young professional, some are transitioning from years of singing with every small house in the US to careers at the MET, some are transitioning from pursuing the career to moving into another phase of their life by getting married, having children or finding work in another field (even the other side of the operatic table), while still some, like me, are just beginning to build momentum and can see new opportunities around every corner.
We all study singing because we have a love for making music (or for some, they want to be the center of attention in the most heightened state possible.) Depending on where you go to school, you may also get a crash course in the business of opera, how to be the CEO of Your Name, Inc and if you are lucky, build enough contacts that once you graduate, you move right up to the A-list of operatic opportunities. But no matter who you are or where you come from, every singer faces the same question: At what point do I stop being a (insert job here that pays the bills) to a full-time singer? Does the work have to come first or does one have to pursue the work in order for it come? For me, it was getting that one role in the tour that told me that this was the right decision to be a full-time singer. Since then, it has been a series of ups and downs, a mixture of artistic triumphs and personal frustration all the while trying to remember the philosophy of being “a successful creative.”
So to remind myself every day that being an opera singer is my job, I have embraced all the elements of being an opera singer. Of course, being the most prepared I can be musically and dramatically, using all the resources I have to audition for anyone who will hear me, working so I can afford to audition for anyone who will hear me, having a team of people who advise, support and tell me the truth, buying into the social media of being an opera singer, creating programming in order to give myself one more option to perform, being a great colleague because you never know when one of those folks will get you a gig, working harder than what you are getting paid for because it means that you value your work more than you value the check, spending every moment that I can focusing on getting work and doing great work and finally loving it and being grateful for it. We often forget that we are lucky every time we get a singing job because there are those that did NOT get hired. I think of them every time I am tired, grumpy because I have to sing before 10 am, when I have long days, when I have rehearsals that seem pointless, when my colleagues are unprepared, or when I just want to skip a day of singing. I think, just like my mom who paid thousands of dollars for me to go to school and who worked countless overtime just so I could pursue my dream, that I need to think of my life as the “artiste” as one of a 9-5 (or more my case 8 to whenever I get my list of things I want to do accomplished) and know that I am not just the CEO of Eric McKeever, Inc, but also the brand itself which means that I have to be savvy enough to survive the business of opera, but also be someone whose brand (talent, preparation, dramatic skills, etc…) set me apart from the rest of the market.
Thinking back to my days in the conservatory when I was just trying to figure out how to sing the E-flat above middle C without going into falsetto, I marvel at the journey I have taken. I learned to sing in undergrad, learned to sing and act together in grad school, became a professional singer almost by accident, made my rounds in nearly every YAP in the Midwest and beyond, stepped away, wandered for a year, got into the administrative side of opera and finally “found myself” and have been doing what I believe has always been my calling. The one difference from years before is that I believe I deserve it and am ready for it. I know that had I not stepped away, I would have never found the love again, so for me each transition has been a necessary step in becoming the singer I am today.
I look forward to the next transition of singing leading roles with major companies around the world. I will still work very hard to maintain the humility of a student with the ferocious curiosity of an artist because with each transition, I have actually moved closer to the real me and not the” me” that others want me to be.
Peace,
Eric
Monday, September 24, 2012
2012-2013: Bizet, Britten, Rossini and more!
Each September opera companies begin a new season enticing audiences into the theater with either standard operatic fare or a new production featuring some of the best singers around. I am happy to report that I am in full swing of what promises to be a whirlwind of a season filled with company debuts and new roles!
In September I made my debut with Long Island Opera in a wonderful production of Carmen featuring some great singers. Singing Escamillo was a fantastic challenge as the role needs a great deal of vocal and physical swagger. With a stupendous cast and directing/coaching staff, I was able to bring the Toreador to vivid life and even have a great time singing, jumping and fighting my way through this great part.
I am now in the midst of rehearsals for a unique production of La bohème that will be in English and presented in a cabaret format with updated references. The goal of the production is to introduce new audiences to opera in an accessible format and what better story than the starving artists of Paris who fall in and out of love and face life with a care-free lifestyle? I am looking forward to this production as I get to work with some old colleagues from grad school who are now out and about making a name for themselves.
January brings a new role and a role debut with Bronx Opera. Rossini is one of my favorite composers and any chance I get to sing his music brings a smile to my face. His fantastic opera, La Gazza Ladra (The Thieving Magpie) tells the story a young servant named Ninetta who is accused of stealing until it is revealed that a magpie is taking everything. I will play the role of Ninetta’s father, Fernando and am looking forward to learning this role filled with Rossini’s brilliant vocal writing.
I jump forward to the 20th century in February as I make my Opera Naples debut in their production of Benjamin Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream singing Theseus, Duke of Athens. I have had some wonderful Britten experiences having sun his cantata “Rejoice in the Lamb” and Sid in Albert Herring in college. Shakespeare experts Cecil Mackinnon and Philip Watson will bring this production to the stage and I look forward to being part of this enchanted world so well captured by Shakespeare and Britten.
On my way back to Columbus after singing in Long Island Opera’s Carmen, I made a stop in Harrisburg, PA to audition for Harrisburg Symphony Orchestra Artistic Director Stuart Malina. Four arias later, an offer was made and I am excited to say that I will be singing Marquis D’Obigny in their upcoming concert version of La Traviata in March.
In May and June I will return to one of my favorite companies, St. Petersburg Opera to sing a new role, the Music Teacher in Richard Strauss’ Ariadne auf Naxos. My first professional role was as the Cappadocian in Strauss’ Salome and since then, I have been a huge fan. The role will be another great challenge as it is mostly recitative in style (quick sung text that is more speech-like and quite rhythmic in nature) and is littered with a mouthful of German. I have already begun my study of this role as I want to give myself ample time to learn it.
It’s hard to believe that summer is over and that fall has fallen and I have already started a new season, but in the fast-paced world of opera, there is always a new role to learn (and quickly), auditions for future seasons and the joy of discovery as a role begins to fit the voice and personality like a glove.
Peace,
Eric McKeever
In September I made my debut with Long Island Opera in a wonderful production of Carmen featuring some great singers. Singing Escamillo was a fantastic challenge as the role needs a great deal of vocal and physical swagger. With a stupendous cast and directing/coaching staff, I was able to bring the Toreador to vivid life and even have a great time singing, jumping and fighting my way through this great part.
I am now in the midst of rehearsals for a unique production of La bohème that will be in English and presented in a cabaret format with updated references. The goal of the production is to introduce new audiences to opera in an accessible format and what better story than the starving artists of Paris who fall in and out of love and face life with a care-free lifestyle? I am looking forward to this production as I get to work with some old colleagues from grad school who are now out and about making a name for themselves.
January brings a new role and a role debut with Bronx Opera. Rossini is one of my favorite composers and any chance I get to sing his music brings a smile to my face. His fantastic opera, La Gazza Ladra (The Thieving Magpie) tells the story a young servant named Ninetta who is accused of stealing until it is revealed that a magpie is taking everything. I will play the role of Ninetta’s father, Fernando and am looking forward to learning this role filled with Rossini’s brilliant vocal writing.
I jump forward to the 20th century in February as I make my Opera Naples debut in their production of Benjamin Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream singing Theseus, Duke of Athens. I have had some wonderful Britten experiences having sun his cantata “Rejoice in the Lamb” and Sid in Albert Herring in college. Shakespeare experts Cecil Mackinnon and Philip Watson will bring this production to the stage and I look forward to being part of this enchanted world so well captured by Shakespeare and Britten.
On my way back to Columbus after singing in Long Island Opera’s Carmen, I made a stop in Harrisburg, PA to audition for Harrisburg Symphony Orchestra Artistic Director Stuart Malina. Four arias later, an offer was made and I am excited to say that I will be singing Marquis D’Obigny in their upcoming concert version of La Traviata in March.
In May and June I will return to one of my favorite companies, St. Petersburg Opera to sing a new role, the Music Teacher in Richard Strauss’ Ariadne auf Naxos. My first professional role was as the Cappadocian in Strauss’ Salome and since then, I have been a huge fan. The role will be another great challenge as it is mostly recitative in style (quick sung text that is more speech-like and quite rhythmic in nature) and is littered with a mouthful of German. I have already begun my study of this role as I want to give myself ample time to learn it.
It’s hard to believe that summer is over and that fall has fallen and I have already started a new season, but in the fast-paced world of opera, there is always a new role to learn (and quickly), auditions for future seasons and the joy of discovery as a role begins to fit the voice and personality like a glove.
Peace,
Eric McKeever
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Essaying Escamillo Part Deux
I am into the final week of rehearsals with Carmen and I am excited to report that I am feeling Escamillo! The superb French coach Anne-Julia Audray has been an invaluable resource not only on the language, but also the character of Escamillo and the music of Bizet. She, along with the wonderful stage director, Karen Fawcett and the fantastic musical director, Fábio Bezuti, are helping me to fine-tune all the elements of Escamillo. It is a fantastic masterclass in this opera. Several years ago I sang Morales and thought I knew the work well, but the “secrets” that they are sharing with me have made getting under Escamillo’s skin a truly joyful journey.
That’s not to say that it has been an easy road. Combining his vocal prowess and physical machismo have been a process and every time I get something right, there is something new for me to work on. However, I feel close to nailing this guy who oozes swagger. I had my costume fitting and had a chance to work in the clothes and let me just say that there is nothing like a tight shirt and pants, jacket and a great cape to make you WANT to be a hot toreador! So far, the role requires me to jump, swing my cape, fight and move with a mixture of sharp precision and a suave fluidity. In addition to his physical movement, giving Escamillo a permanent sneer, all the while smiling and being so confident in not only his skills as a bullfighter, but as a sexy man, makes me not only want to embody him onstage, but in real life!
One of the best rules in opera is fake it, until you make it. I have been trying to get into the head and heart of Escamillo and have had to deal with my own doubt about my abilities to bring him to life. I know every performer goes through this feeling of “can I do this?” Perhaps I have been “trying” to hard and not just being. I now know it’s a mental game with this character. I have all the goods, I just have to believe I can do it and do it well. I am now aiming less for a perfect performance and more for a real, alive and fun one. Last night in rehearsal I had several moments of abandon where I just WAS Escamillo. I still want to get everything “right,” but more than that I want to give the audience a fantastic glimpse into the life of a charismatic man who sings some great music and has an incredible time onstage. En garde!
Peace,
Eric
That’s not to say that it has been an easy road. Combining his vocal prowess and physical machismo have been a process and every time I get something right, there is something new for me to work on. However, I feel close to nailing this guy who oozes swagger. I had my costume fitting and had a chance to work in the clothes and let me just say that there is nothing like a tight shirt and pants, jacket and a great cape to make you WANT to be a hot toreador! So far, the role requires me to jump, swing my cape, fight and move with a mixture of sharp precision and a suave fluidity. In addition to his physical movement, giving Escamillo a permanent sneer, all the while smiling and being so confident in not only his skills as a bullfighter, but as a sexy man, makes me not only want to embody him onstage, but in real life!
One of the best rules in opera is fake it, until you make it. I have been trying to get into the head and heart of Escamillo and have had to deal with my own doubt about my abilities to bring him to life. I know every performer goes through this feeling of “can I do this?” Perhaps I have been “trying” to hard and not just being. I now know it’s a mental game with this character. I have all the goods, I just have to believe I can do it and do it well. I am now aiming less for a perfect performance and more for a real, alive and fun one. Last night in rehearsal I had several moments of abandon where I just WAS Escamillo. I still want to get everything “right,” but more than that I want to give the audience a fantastic glimpse into the life of a charismatic man who sings some great music and has an incredible time onstage. En garde!
Peace,
Eric
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Essaying Escamillo
Carmen is one of the most recognizable operas in the world. Many opera companies produce it because it is a guaranteed crowd pleaser, is filled with tunes that linger in the memory and offers a wealth of great vocal and dramatic moments for the artists playing these iconic parts.
In a previous post, I mentioned that I was excited (and surprised) to be offered the role of Escamillo mainly because of my own perceptions of what I think Escamillo looks and sounds like. During my preparation I found the role still felt foreign to me as it didn’t slip into my voice with ease and trying to capture the character’s swagger seemed to elude me. I wasn’t sure if this was a case of mind over matter where I just needed to keep at it or one of me just accepting the wrong role. Further investigation was needed.
The role of Escamillo challenges all lower male voice singers in that is sits low, high and right in the middle with just enough frequency that any baritone, bass-baritone or bass gets fooled into thinking it’s an easy sing. The aria alone is a masterful combination of melodic inventiveness and thrilling vocal bravado. It requires a singer with a voice that has thrust, ease in and out of its registration and a large dose of machismo. The character also has to be completely grounded with swagger while also being elevated and oozing with sexual charisma. That is of course a tall order, especially if you feel that these qualities play opposite of your personality.
Going into the first two rehearsals, I was fortunate that Long Island Opera provided us with a fanstastic music director and also a great French diction coach extraordinaire whose jobs are to not only refine our musical style, pronunciation, but they have such amazing insights into the opera, the characters and vocal technique that I finally feel like I am getting a grasp on all things Escamillo. On a side note, our French diction coach has put us through our paces and doesn't let anything get through the cracks. With her smarts (and whip!), I am getting quite confident in my role.
I have sung Escamillo every day and he is becoming clearer (literally and figuratively) and I actually BELIEVE I can do it! I often marvel at actors who undergo a physical transformation, study for months on end to perfect a new language, dialect or physical feat and hurl themselves into a new role that is outside of their comfort zone all in order to challenge their own artistic abilities. That is exactly how I feel about Escamillo. I am working on finding his voice, his swagger and his overall being. Soon we will start working with the stage director so I am looking forward to her adding more insight into my journey into this man who is virile, full of daring and has some of the greatest music of any baritone role.
I’ll let you know how it goes!
Peace,
Eric
In a previous post, I mentioned that I was excited (and surprised) to be offered the role of Escamillo mainly because of my own perceptions of what I think Escamillo looks and sounds like. During my preparation I found the role still felt foreign to me as it didn’t slip into my voice with ease and trying to capture the character’s swagger seemed to elude me. I wasn’t sure if this was a case of mind over matter where I just needed to keep at it or one of me just accepting the wrong role. Further investigation was needed.
The role of Escamillo challenges all lower male voice singers in that is sits low, high and right in the middle with just enough frequency that any baritone, bass-baritone or bass gets fooled into thinking it’s an easy sing. The aria alone is a masterful combination of melodic inventiveness and thrilling vocal bravado. It requires a singer with a voice that has thrust, ease in and out of its registration and a large dose of machismo. The character also has to be completely grounded with swagger while also being elevated and oozing with sexual charisma. That is of course a tall order, especially if you feel that these qualities play opposite of your personality.
Going into the first two rehearsals, I was fortunate that Long Island Opera provided us with a fanstastic music director and also a great French diction coach extraordinaire whose jobs are to not only refine our musical style, pronunciation, but they have such amazing insights into the opera, the characters and vocal technique that I finally feel like I am getting a grasp on all things Escamillo. On a side note, our French diction coach has put us through our paces and doesn't let anything get through the cracks. With her smarts (and whip!), I am getting quite confident in my role.
I have sung Escamillo every day and he is becoming clearer (literally and figuratively) and I actually BELIEVE I can do it! I often marvel at actors who undergo a physical transformation, study for months on end to perfect a new language, dialect or physical feat and hurl themselves into a new role that is outside of their comfort zone all in order to challenge their own artistic abilities. That is exactly how I feel about Escamillo. I am working on finding his voice, his swagger and his overall being. Soon we will start working with the stage director so I am looking forward to her adding more insight into my journey into this man who is virile, full of daring and has some of the greatest music of any baritone role.
I’ll let you know how it goes!
Peace,
Eric
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
What are we so afraid of?
I remember the day vividly: I was in grad school and singing on a masterclass for an accompanist who played for several of the opera world’s great singers. It was my hope that I would open my mouth and he would shout that I was the operatic equivalent of the second coming. I would be plucked from obscurity and whisked off to NYC to become the next great…something. As is traditional in the masterclass format, the singer (me in this instance) sings all the way through the piece and then the master gets up and coaches, questions and challenges the singer into a deeper exploration of technique and interpretation, all the while putting on a good “show” for the audience in attendance who is hoping to gain some gem of knowledge that will make them a better singer, vocal coach or listener. As a young singer with lots to prove, I found this situation exhilarating because I felt that this moment in time could be a game changer.
Well, indeed it was! After singing through my aria, the master teacher asked me to try a few things. Nervous at the on-looking crowd of people judging me and trying my best to be perfect, I found that the more I tried to “get it right,” the more my voice started to close up. I was hit by not only an attack of phlegm, but also a huge wave of stage fright. (I like to call phlegm the uninvited party guest. The one that shows up unexpectedly and never knows when to leave!)
I had experienced stage fright before. Once, as a middle schooler, auditioning for a local production, I got so scared that the same thing happened except that instead of having the wave of nausea, my right leg began to shake uncontrollably. The people behind the desk watched in horror as my gravelly phlegm-covered voice sang and my right leg did its own interpretative dance that telegraphed how insanely frightened I was. Since that time, I had always had to deal with the “leg shake”, but I was older and wiser now. However, here I was going through this same exact thing.
I excused myself saying that I did not feel well and left the stage. I went into the bathroom and for the next fifteen minutes convulsed, sobbed and shook all the while replaying what had just happened. I went through the entire gamut of negative emotions from blaming someone in the audience for the “judgmental” stare, to hating myself for being such a punk-a$% to feeling like walking out of that bathroom and never returning to singing again.
After that moment, I went through a very tough, but liberating journey into why I was so afraid? Why was the act of standing there in front of a group of people and having someone assess my voice, my languages, my acting and my musicality such a terrifying exercise? I began to question why something like singing, which felt fairly natural and was certainly something I had come to love very much, was causing me such anxiety. And more than that, why was the act of being judged turning my normally chipper, confident and fun-loving self into a bathroom-blubbering mess?
Like most things that we consider our “issues” today, we merely have to go back and look into our childhood to see where they originated. As a very small child, I was an exceptional student and very creative and talented. I even skipped 2nd grade because I seemed to be what is now labeled as an “advanced” learner, meaning someone who can pick up material, process it quickly and show comprehension with ease. For that I was often praised…and praised a lot to the chagrin of some of my family and friends. During that time, I remember that I loved to sing and would sing often. One Saturday afternoon (why does it always have to happen on a Saturday?), I was singing when one of my cousins commented that I sounded like a whale in heat. (I don’t think it was THAT bad!) Of course, no one had ever said anything like that to me. I was shocked, surprised and hurt. Another key moment was that I had another cousin who was (and still is) an exceptional singer. She had one of those voices that moved people. I wanted so much to be like that and every time someone praised her and not me, I became jealous. Finally, and this is very significant as well, being an only child of a single parent who wanted me to be my best, even when I didn’t want to be, I experienced a lot of criticism that I saw as a negative, but where the intention was to make me my best self. (This was all discovered during some intense journaling which has served as my therapy over the years.)
Through this process I discovered the origins of my fear of being criticized. What was also fascinating to discover during my journaling was that there was already a large part of me in place that wanted to resolve this issue. So how does one go about resolving one’s fear of criticism in their adult life? By pursuing a career where criticism is an integral part of the business. (In therapy, they call this the “aha” moment.) There is a reason that artists are temperamental, insecure and sometimes (often!) crazy. We are dealing with two main voices: the one that is telling us we suck and the one that is telling us that if we practice (draw, sketch, paint etc…) enough, we will be amazing and have a chance at making/creating/doing something greater than ourselves.
From near-nervous breakdown to my current period of self-awareness took about ten years to work through. I decided to write about it because I had a friend share with me their recent experience in a competition and all of the memories of exactly how that felt came flooding back to me. I wanted to share my story for two reasons: 1) to show that most artists go through periods of fear about what “they” think and 2) to show that the process is ongoing, but when we sing to express as opposed to impress, we change how “they” affect us.
Today, I try to remind myself whether it is an audition, a rehearsal or a performance, that it’s just singing. I love to sing and perform and if I spend each moment working to bring out the words, the music, the language, the style and the drama, then I spend less time worrying about whether they like it or not, because while I love having the audience’s response, the ultimate reason I sing is for me. Of course I want to tell “them” the story using all my gifts, but I look at it more like I’m sharing something wonderful as opposed to putting it out there to be assessed. It makes it a lot more fun!
Peace,
Eric
Well, indeed it was! After singing through my aria, the master teacher asked me to try a few things. Nervous at the on-looking crowd of people judging me and trying my best to be perfect, I found that the more I tried to “get it right,” the more my voice started to close up. I was hit by not only an attack of phlegm, but also a huge wave of stage fright. (I like to call phlegm the uninvited party guest. The one that shows up unexpectedly and never knows when to leave!)
I had experienced stage fright before. Once, as a middle schooler, auditioning for a local production, I got so scared that the same thing happened except that instead of having the wave of nausea, my right leg began to shake uncontrollably. The people behind the desk watched in horror as my gravelly phlegm-covered voice sang and my right leg did its own interpretative dance that telegraphed how insanely frightened I was. Since that time, I had always had to deal with the “leg shake”, but I was older and wiser now. However, here I was going through this same exact thing.
I excused myself saying that I did not feel well and left the stage. I went into the bathroom and for the next fifteen minutes convulsed, sobbed and shook all the while replaying what had just happened. I went through the entire gamut of negative emotions from blaming someone in the audience for the “judgmental” stare, to hating myself for being such a punk-a$% to feeling like walking out of that bathroom and never returning to singing again.
After that moment, I went through a very tough, but liberating journey into why I was so afraid? Why was the act of standing there in front of a group of people and having someone assess my voice, my languages, my acting and my musicality such a terrifying exercise? I began to question why something like singing, which felt fairly natural and was certainly something I had come to love very much, was causing me such anxiety. And more than that, why was the act of being judged turning my normally chipper, confident and fun-loving self into a bathroom-blubbering mess?
Like most things that we consider our “issues” today, we merely have to go back and look into our childhood to see where they originated. As a very small child, I was an exceptional student and very creative and talented. I even skipped 2nd grade because I seemed to be what is now labeled as an “advanced” learner, meaning someone who can pick up material, process it quickly and show comprehension with ease. For that I was often praised…and praised a lot to the chagrin of some of my family and friends. During that time, I remember that I loved to sing and would sing often. One Saturday afternoon (why does it always have to happen on a Saturday?), I was singing when one of my cousins commented that I sounded like a whale in heat. (I don’t think it was THAT bad!) Of course, no one had ever said anything like that to me. I was shocked, surprised and hurt. Another key moment was that I had another cousin who was (and still is) an exceptional singer. She had one of those voices that moved people. I wanted so much to be like that and every time someone praised her and not me, I became jealous. Finally, and this is very significant as well, being an only child of a single parent who wanted me to be my best, even when I didn’t want to be, I experienced a lot of criticism that I saw as a negative, but where the intention was to make me my best self. (This was all discovered during some intense journaling which has served as my therapy over the years.)
Through this process I discovered the origins of my fear of being criticized. What was also fascinating to discover during my journaling was that there was already a large part of me in place that wanted to resolve this issue. So how does one go about resolving one’s fear of criticism in their adult life? By pursuing a career where criticism is an integral part of the business. (In therapy, they call this the “aha” moment.) There is a reason that artists are temperamental, insecure and sometimes (often!) crazy. We are dealing with two main voices: the one that is telling us we suck and the one that is telling us that if we practice (draw, sketch, paint etc…) enough, we will be amazing and have a chance at making/creating/doing something greater than ourselves.
From near-nervous breakdown to my current period of self-awareness took about ten years to work through. I decided to write about it because I had a friend share with me their recent experience in a competition and all of the memories of exactly how that felt came flooding back to me. I wanted to share my story for two reasons: 1) to show that most artists go through periods of fear about what “they” think and 2) to show that the process is ongoing, but when we sing to express as opposed to impress, we change how “they” affect us.
Today, I try to remind myself whether it is an audition, a rehearsal or a performance, that it’s just singing. I love to sing and perform and if I spend each moment working to bring out the words, the music, the language, the style and the drama, then I spend less time worrying about whether they like it or not, because while I love having the audience’s response, the ultimate reason I sing is for me. Of course I want to tell “them” the story using all my gifts, but I look at it more like I’m sharing something wonderful as opposed to putting it out there to be assessed. It makes it a lot more fun!
Peace,
Eric
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Don't tell yourself "no"
You’re too short, too tall, too handsome, too ugly or even too black (refer to the previous post “And one of them is black” for clarification.) Your “ah” vowel is out of whack, your coloratura isn’t clean enough, you’re late, behind and awful! These are all things that people (teachers, coaches, conductors, artistic directors, stage directors and sometimes colleagues) will say to an opera singer. We often feel like door-to-door salesmen pedaling our wares and like those salesmen, we get many a “no” and it can make us begin to believe things about ourselves simply because we’ve heard something from this person or that person. If someone told us we were a grapefruit over and over again, we just might start to believe it ourselves, but the truth remains. We are not grapefruits!
I used to think that being a 5”9” black lyric baritone was actually a negative. In a world filled with barihunks and sopranos who get gastric bypass in order to enhance their careers, it can be very easy to feel like one has to consider the physical perception of the role first before addressing the vocal demands. However, over the past couple of years I have found that I have been offered such a variety of roles ranging from Figaro in Le Nozze di Figaro to Figaro in Barbiere di Siviglia and many things in between. Now, I think I know my voice very well and I know what I can and cannot sing, but sometimes I find that I think I won’t be offered this role or that role not because I can’t sing it, but because I don’t “look” how the role is typically cast. However, does that mean if something feels great vocally, yet perhaps I do not conjure up the physical ideal that I should not offer it? Look at all the singers having great careers. Many of them sing a variety of stuff that perhaps they are not “ideal” for, but what makes them great is that they alter our idea of what the role sounds and looks like and it becomes their own.
Example: I went into a recent audition hoping to get Marcello as that seemed the most appropriate role in a season of Carmen, Rigoletto and La Boheme. I didn’t even offer the Toreador aria, not because I couldn’t sing it, but because I just didn’t think I had the “swagger” to perform it. The auditor asked me about the role and before responding I remembered my friend Henry’s advice about not telling yourself “no” when going into an audition situation. So instead of saying I didn’t think I was appropriate, I told them I had not had a chance to get the aria ready and didn’t want to present it until it was up to snuff. Lo, and behold, I got an offer to sing (to my great surprise) Escamillo in Carmen.
In opera we have the Fach system, which helps classify what kind of singer we are so that when companies hire us; they can know which roles are most appropriate. This system is very strict in Germany where it originated, but here in the US singers can bend and stretch here and there. I, myself, am essentially a high lyric baritone with a little bit of “meat” in the voice. However, I bring a certain personality and look to all the roles I do so it’s not uncommon that I will get offers for roles that I am more physically suited for versus where my voice wants to sit. A perfect example of this is Mozart’s Figaro. The Escamillo offer is actually the opposite in that I can sing it, but I never thought that in a universe of tall, good-looking baritones, I would be cast. (I know I’m cute and am at peace with my height, so don’t think I am putting myself down!) However, I never told myself, I wouldn’t be cast because I try to remember that the most successful artists are never the ones who look and sound like everybody else, but who have something special, different and unique.
Sometimes one has to learn that their “fach” is exactly what feels right in the voice. Everyone that hears me has a very specific thought of what I can sing (and by sing I mean roles that I am suited to vocally and physically). Often these perceptions are slightly conflicted and if I were a younger singer, could be very confusing. At this point, I feel very certain about what I can and cannot sing. I am leaning to let them tell me “no”, but am refusing to tell myself that simply because one or two people say so. No one else knows our voice better than we do (perhaps our teachers and coaches, but I still think ultimately we know best.) When a role is “right” our voices, bodies and souls just know.
So what is your point, Eric? I’ll tell you. We often see artists crossing “fachs” all the time as it offers the artist a challenge, a new outlook on their instrument and a chance to play another character. Will I make a career of singing Escamillo over Rossini’s Figaro? Most likely no, but I will not tell myself that I can’t! I will allow myself the pleasure of finding my inner Toreador without losing touch with my inner Figaro (or Marcello or Taddeo or whatever role I am playing at the time) and I will remember to always tell myself “yes!” Being a great artist is not only about doing what everyone thinks we can do very well, but sometimes doing what no one (expect ourselves) believe we can do and even if we “fail,” we grow because we have expanded our sense of selves and the perception of ourselves to those around us. And isn’t that what great artists do?
Peace,
Eric
I used to think that being a 5”9” black lyric baritone was actually a negative. In a world filled with barihunks and sopranos who get gastric bypass in order to enhance their careers, it can be very easy to feel like one has to consider the physical perception of the role first before addressing the vocal demands. However, over the past couple of years I have found that I have been offered such a variety of roles ranging from Figaro in Le Nozze di Figaro to Figaro in Barbiere di Siviglia and many things in between. Now, I think I know my voice very well and I know what I can and cannot sing, but sometimes I find that I think I won’t be offered this role or that role not because I can’t sing it, but because I don’t “look” how the role is typically cast. However, does that mean if something feels great vocally, yet perhaps I do not conjure up the physical ideal that I should not offer it? Look at all the singers having great careers. Many of them sing a variety of stuff that perhaps they are not “ideal” for, but what makes them great is that they alter our idea of what the role sounds and looks like and it becomes their own.
Example: I went into a recent audition hoping to get Marcello as that seemed the most appropriate role in a season of Carmen, Rigoletto and La Boheme. I didn’t even offer the Toreador aria, not because I couldn’t sing it, but because I just didn’t think I had the “swagger” to perform it. The auditor asked me about the role and before responding I remembered my friend Henry’s advice about not telling yourself “no” when going into an audition situation. So instead of saying I didn’t think I was appropriate, I told them I had not had a chance to get the aria ready and didn’t want to present it until it was up to snuff. Lo, and behold, I got an offer to sing (to my great surprise) Escamillo in Carmen.
In opera we have the Fach system, which helps classify what kind of singer we are so that when companies hire us; they can know which roles are most appropriate. This system is very strict in Germany where it originated, but here in the US singers can bend and stretch here and there. I, myself, am essentially a high lyric baritone with a little bit of “meat” in the voice. However, I bring a certain personality and look to all the roles I do so it’s not uncommon that I will get offers for roles that I am more physically suited for versus where my voice wants to sit. A perfect example of this is Mozart’s Figaro. The Escamillo offer is actually the opposite in that I can sing it, but I never thought that in a universe of tall, good-looking baritones, I would be cast. (I know I’m cute and am at peace with my height, so don’t think I am putting myself down!) However, I never told myself, I wouldn’t be cast because I try to remember that the most successful artists are never the ones who look and sound like everybody else, but who have something special, different and unique.
Sometimes one has to learn that their “fach” is exactly what feels right in the voice. Everyone that hears me has a very specific thought of what I can sing (and by sing I mean roles that I am suited to vocally and physically). Often these perceptions are slightly conflicted and if I were a younger singer, could be very confusing. At this point, I feel very certain about what I can and cannot sing. I am leaning to let them tell me “no”, but am refusing to tell myself that simply because one or two people say so. No one else knows our voice better than we do (perhaps our teachers and coaches, but I still think ultimately we know best.) When a role is “right” our voices, bodies and souls just know.
So what is your point, Eric? I’ll tell you. We often see artists crossing “fachs” all the time as it offers the artist a challenge, a new outlook on their instrument and a chance to play another character. Will I make a career of singing Escamillo over Rossini’s Figaro? Most likely no, but I will not tell myself that I can’t! I will allow myself the pleasure of finding my inner Toreador without losing touch with my inner Figaro (or Marcello or Taddeo or whatever role I am playing at the time) and I will remember to always tell myself “yes!” Being a great artist is not only about doing what everyone thinks we can do very well, but sometimes doing what no one (expect ourselves) believe we can do and even if we “fail,” we grow because we have expanded our sense of selves and the perception of ourselves to those around us. And isn’t that what great artists do?
Peace,
Eric
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Reclaiming our Artform
I am in the midst of rehearsals for a wonderful production of The Barber of Seville with the North Shore Music Festival in Port Washington, NY (about 30 minutes outside of the city). The company is fairly new and was started by baritone and Executive Director Daniel Klein who wanted to create an opera company that offers opportunities to up-and-coming singers, fulfilled a need for professional classical music on the North Shore of Long Island and could collaborate with local agencies to present a host of events. After a particularly active rehearsal a group of us went out for drinks to decompress (oddly the way it seems that singers decompress is to talk about singing!) Of course the topic of opera companies struggling came up and one of my colleagues talked about how singers need to reclaim our artform in order for it to survive.
Many of my friends are exceptionally talented singers who have reinvented themselves and not only rely on the “opera world” to give them performing opportunities. The funny thing is that the more control the artists seem to take of their own careers, the more it seems that opera companies take them seriously. Two friends of mine, soprano Adrienne Danrich and baritone Adelmo Guidarelli have found a way to stay connected to their operatic roots by creating shows that not only showcase their talents as artists, but as creatives. By writing, producing and/or starring in their own shows, they have given themselves a way to find their niche in the crowded opera world while also finding a way to generate interest (and income) in opera in a new and fresh way.
Both artists have created shows that reflect their personal interests and tastes. Adrienne’s shows This Little Light of Mine: The Stories of Marian Anderson and Leontyne Price and An Evening in the Harlem Renaissance are inventive one-woman shows that highlight history and serve as musical tributes to two great operatic legends as well as the writers and performers of the Harlem Renaissance that forged the way for many African American artists today. Using a combination of live performance, power point, recordings and some original music, she has created a genre called a “living documentary.” Both shows have been successful and it seems that by focusing on doing what she loves, Adrienne has found a way to interest opera companies in not only her talent, but her intellect.
On the opposite performance spectrum is baritone Adelmo Guidarelli’s Operation Opera. The show is an edgy, hilarious and fast-paced glimpse into the world of opera. Aiming to entertain and educate, the program has been a hit with school-age children, families, adults as well as opera lovers and those new to opera. Performances have been seen at the Edinburgh Festival in the UK, Symphony Space in NYC, Off-Broadway and part of Ryan Seacrest’s reality show “Bank of Hollywood.” Playing with the traditional and the unexpected, Operation Opera is a fun way to introduce people to opera while also giving those who know opera a chance to laugh at it though Adlemo’s wit and talent.
There are multiple artists performing their own shows throughout the country ranging from recitals with a twist, cabarets, educational programs and full-scale productions. As larger companies continue to go through economic upheaval and have to restructure, many artists are seeing this as an opportunity to create, reinvent and bring opera back to an intimate scale where the performer is the focus and the audience gets to be up-close and personal with the singer. For every story we read about opera companies diminishing, there should be stories about opera companies (small-scale for the moment) popping up looking to fill the gap left behind. By creating our own works, we thus ensure our artform, the one we have invested so much time and energy into, will continue to evolve and thrive. Go forth and create!
Peace,
Eric
Many of my friends are exceptionally talented singers who have reinvented themselves and not only rely on the “opera world” to give them performing opportunities. The funny thing is that the more control the artists seem to take of their own careers, the more it seems that opera companies take them seriously. Two friends of mine, soprano Adrienne Danrich and baritone Adelmo Guidarelli have found a way to stay connected to their operatic roots by creating shows that not only showcase their talents as artists, but as creatives. By writing, producing and/or starring in their own shows, they have given themselves a way to find their niche in the crowded opera world while also finding a way to generate interest (and income) in opera in a new and fresh way.
Both artists have created shows that reflect their personal interests and tastes. Adrienne’s shows This Little Light of Mine: The Stories of Marian Anderson and Leontyne Price and An Evening in the Harlem Renaissance are inventive one-woman shows that highlight history and serve as musical tributes to two great operatic legends as well as the writers and performers of the Harlem Renaissance that forged the way for many African American artists today. Using a combination of live performance, power point, recordings and some original music, she has created a genre called a “living documentary.” Both shows have been successful and it seems that by focusing on doing what she loves, Adrienne has found a way to interest opera companies in not only her talent, but her intellect.
On the opposite performance spectrum is baritone Adelmo Guidarelli’s Operation Opera. The show is an edgy, hilarious and fast-paced glimpse into the world of opera. Aiming to entertain and educate, the program has been a hit with school-age children, families, adults as well as opera lovers and those new to opera. Performances have been seen at the Edinburgh Festival in the UK, Symphony Space in NYC, Off-Broadway and part of Ryan Seacrest’s reality show “Bank of Hollywood.” Playing with the traditional and the unexpected, Operation Opera is a fun way to introduce people to opera while also giving those who know opera a chance to laugh at it though Adlemo’s wit and talent.
There are multiple artists performing their own shows throughout the country ranging from recitals with a twist, cabarets, educational programs and full-scale productions. As larger companies continue to go through economic upheaval and have to restructure, many artists are seeing this as an opportunity to create, reinvent and bring opera back to an intimate scale where the performer is the focus and the audience gets to be up-close and personal with the singer. For every story we read about opera companies diminishing, there should be stories about opera companies (small-scale for the moment) popping up looking to fill the gap left behind. By creating our own works, we thus ensure our artform, the one we have invested so much time and energy into, will continue to evolve and thrive. Go forth and create!
Peace,
Eric
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
A critical look at criticism
Opera Singers are two people in one. The first is the bold, passionate artist who loves to makes glorious sounds, command the stage and make it seem like they were born to entertain. The other is the fragile soul that in many ways needs self-approval as well as that of the audience and yes, even the critics in order to feel accomplished. Many of us perform because we have that inner voice telling us that we must (sometimes it doesn’t shut up!) and because there is no greater, more amazing feeling than receiving accolades for the hours and hours of hard work that we have put into preparing for the performance.
For fans of shows like American Idol and X-Factor where contestants present themselves before a panel of judges and get instant feedback about how they excelled and where they need to improve, you’ll be happy to know that the opera world is very similar in the amount of critical response one receives. It begins with the voice lesson where it is the teacher’s sole job to fix, enhance and refine the technical side of what a singer must do (very much like an ice skater needs a basic set of skills in order to become competitive.) Then it is on to the vocal coach who works mainly with the language, musical style and interpretation. The singer must use their entire technical prowess to try and achieve what is being asked of them from the vocal coach. Basically it means taking that incredible sound and creating a fully dimensional character by correct use of language and attention to musical details. (And note: sometimes those musical details are like tiny mysteries hidden within the vastness of an opera score.)
Finally the singer is ready to stage the opera with the cast and director. The stage director and conductor will most likely have strong opinions about the music, the character and the overall shape of the role. As an artist, one must be open to all of the ideas of others, but also have a strong sense of what works best for them. (This is actually one of the trickiest parts of being a professional singer, as there has to be a trust built between the many people with whom you work so that you are able to try new things without throwing off the work of others.)
After all of the work has been done (or as I like to call it, the process); then comes the performance (or if you are lucky performances.) The audience and critics see the end result and make an assessment. The audience gives its approval through applause and shouts of “Bravo”, “Brava” or “Bravi” and the critics hopefully write a glowing review of your performance. But what happens when you have worked so hard on something and you get a bad review? How does one handle it? Should one even read reviews? And more importantly, if you believe the good ones, do you have to believe the bad ones as well?
To date I have had four bad reviews. (Isn’t it funny that I can’t remember the number of good reviews even though they significantly outnumber the four bad ones?) Each one hurt and I can say that after receiving the first one, I nearly quit singing (There is a running joke among my friends that I “quit” every six months, so take that last statement with a grain of salt.) What’s most difficult about bad reviews is that they feel so very personal. A great review feels like they are simply giving you a much-deserved great account of the hard work that you have put in over the last few months. It validates that you are indeed what you want to believe: a talented opera singer. But when you get a bad review it makes you feel like it is a personal attack on your whole being. (In most cases it is not, but it still feels that way.) What can make it even worse is that this critic has the power of an audience who reads their assessment of your work. With the Internet as it is, anyone with access to a computer can write and post a review that is seen by many.
I have come to peace with reviews (I say that today, but if I got a bad one tomorrow, I might threaten to “quit” again!) Opera singing is very subjective and not everyone will like what I have to say (or sing.) I think of operatic talent in the same way I think of different types of foods. There are certain foods that I simply do not like, but it doesn’t mean that the food item is “bad.” I simply don’t like the flavor and nothing anyone says or does will change that. (I’m talking about you, onions!) However onions play a very important role in many recipes and people of all walks of life like onions and will champion them. There are singers out there working today that are like onions for me, but I respect that they are getting work. The critical voice of the critics are based on their personal tastes that have been shaped and formed over many years and they will either love you or hate you (is there anything in between?) One must learn to accept this as a part of the business. If it makes you feel any better, even the big singers at the top of the field get bad reviews, and yet their careers are going ahead full-steam.
A singer must have a thick skin in order to endure all of the “feedback” received from teachers, coaches, directors, conductors, colleagues and critics. All of these voices have something to say about your work, but the one voice that is most necessary to always listen to, is the one inside that tells you that you are a fantastic artist and deserve to be doing exactly what you are doing. (Don’t and I repeat don’t listen to that other voice that tells you anything other than the best about yourself. That voice is destructive and only makes you want to quit. Keep your comments to yourself Negative Norman!)
The best advice I have ever received regarding criticism is that you must be open to it in order to improve, understand that it comes through the filter of the person giving it and know that opinions are like butt-holes, everyone has one.
Peace,
Eric
For fans of shows like American Idol and X-Factor where contestants present themselves before a panel of judges and get instant feedback about how they excelled and where they need to improve, you’ll be happy to know that the opera world is very similar in the amount of critical response one receives. It begins with the voice lesson where it is the teacher’s sole job to fix, enhance and refine the technical side of what a singer must do (very much like an ice skater needs a basic set of skills in order to become competitive.) Then it is on to the vocal coach who works mainly with the language, musical style and interpretation. The singer must use their entire technical prowess to try and achieve what is being asked of them from the vocal coach. Basically it means taking that incredible sound and creating a fully dimensional character by correct use of language and attention to musical details. (And note: sometimes those musical details are like tiny mysteries hidden within the vastness of an opera score.)
Finally the singer is ready to stage the opera with the cast and director. The stage director and conductor will most likely have strong opinions about the music, the character and the overall shape of the role. As an artist, one must be open to all of the ideas of others, but also have a strong sense of what works best for them. (This is actually one of the trickiest parts of being a professional singer, as there has to be a trust built between the many people with whom you work so that you are able to try new things without throwing off the work of others.)
After all of the work has been done (or as I like to call it, the process); then comes the performance (or if you are lucky performances.) The audience and critics see the end result and make an assessment. The audience gives its approval through applause and shouts of “Bravo”, “Brava” or “Bravi” and the critics hopefully write a glowing review of your performance. But what happens when you have worked so hard on something and you get a bad review? How does one handle it? Should one even read reviews? And more importantly, if you believe the good ones, do you have to believe the bad ones as well?
To date I have had four bad reviews. (Isn’t it funny that I can’t remember the number of good reviews even though they significantly outnumber the four bad ones?) Each one hurt and I can say that after receiving the first one, I nearly quit singing (There is a running joke among my friends that I “quit” every six months, so take that last statement with a grain of salt.) What’s most difficult about bad reviews is that they feel so very personal. A great review feels like they are simply giving you a much-deserved great account of the hard work that you have put in over the last few months. It validates that you are indeed what you want to believe: a talented opera singer. But when you get a bad review it makes you feel like it is a personal attack on your whole being. (In most cases it is not, but it still feels that way.) What can make it even worse is that this critic has the power of an audience who reads their assessment of your work. With the Internet as it is, anyone with access to a computer can write and post a review that is seen by many.
I have come to peace with reviews (I say that today, but if I got a bad one tomorrow, I might threaten to “quit” again!) Opera singing is very subjective and not everyone will like what I have to say (or sing.) I think of operatic talent in the same way I think of different types of foods. There are certain foods that I simply do not like, but it doesn’t mean that the food item is “bad.” I simply don’t like the flavor and nothing anyone says or does will change that. (I’m talking about you, onions!) However onions play a very important role in many recipes and people of all walks of life like onions and will champion them. There are singers out there working today that are like onions for me, but I respect that they are getting work. The critical voice of the critics are based on their personal tastes that have been shaped and formed over many years and they will either love you or hate you (is there anything in between?) One must learn to accept this as a part of the business. If it makes you feel any better, even the big singers at the top of the field get bad reviews, and yet their careers are going ahead full-steam.
A singer must have a thick skin in order to endure all of the “feedback” received from teachers, coaches, directors, conductors, colleagues and critics. All of these voices have something to say about your work, but the one voice that is most necessary to always listen to, is the one inside that tells you that you are a fantastic artist and deserve to be doing exactly what you are doing. (Don’t and I repeat don’t listen to that other voice that tells you anything other than the best about yourself. That voice is destructive and only makes you want to quit. Keep your comments to yourself Negative Norman!)
The best advice I have ever received regarding criticism is that you must be open to it in order to improve, understand that it comes through the filter of the person giving it and know that opinions are like butt-holes, everyone has one.
Peace,
Eric
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
I'm getting married...twice
The day after finishing St. Petersburg Opera (and getting an offer to return, more on that in a future post), I jumped head first into rehearsals for another Le Nozze di Figaro production, this time as a guest artist with the Bel Cantanti Opera Summer Festival in Washington, DC. The rehearsals have been going well and I am grateful to my friend, stage director Peter Kozma and new, wonderful conductor colleague Kathleen Scott for making the transition so very easy.
Part of the joy of singing Figaro, beyond Mozart’s glorious music and the richness of the character laid down by DaPonte is the interaction with the singer performing Susanna. I’m lucky to have two talented sopranos playing her and as an actor, it allows me to stay in the moment, because each singer brings her own colors to the role. It always feels fresh and alive (and sometimes confusing...who am I rolling on the floor with today?)
Other roles in the show are double cast as well including Cherubino, Marcellina, Bartolo, Curzio and Barbarina. This does make for a more complicated rehearsal process as sometimes things have to be repeated multiple times in order to solidify them, but it’s also great when someone “gets” it and you can have a new moment on stage. The downside is that I am in rehearsals from sun up to sun down and I have had to learn to mark a lot vocally, but the thing that I owe my colleagues is not to mark the acting, even when I am quite tired.
During the course of the next few days, I will have sung Figaro 6 times (Four full runs and two performances.) That’s a lot of love to give (to Susanna and to the art form), but I am lucky to get to do this every day. I am usually pretty wiped out at the end of rehearsal and sometimes it takes a lot of energy just to warm up before going into rehearsal, but once I get set and the music is playing, it’s like a fantastic roller coaster ride and by the time “Ah tutti contenti” (All are happy) rolls around near the end of Act 4, I am truly pretty happy.
The wedding dates are set for June 16 and 17…a few days away and there are many more “wedding rehearsals” ahead this week. I’ll keep you posted on all the developments.
Peace,
Eric
Part of the joy of singing Figaro, beyond Mozart’s glorious music and the richness of the character laid down by DaPonte is the interaction with the singer performing Susanna. I’m lucky to have two talented sopranos playing her and as an actor, it allows me to stay in the moment, because each singer brings her own colors to the role. It always feels fresh and alive (and sometimes confusing...who am I rolling on the floor with today?)
Other roles in the show are double cast as well including Cherubino, Marcellina, Bartolo, Curzio and Barbarina. This does make for a more complicated rehearsal process as sometimes things have to be repeated multiple times in order to solidify them, but it’s also great when someone “gets” it and you can have a new moment on stage. The downside is that I am in rehearsals from sun up to sun down and I have had to learn to mark a lot vocally, but the thing that I owe my colleagues is not to mark the acting, even when I am quite tired.
During the course of the next few days, I will have sung Figaro 6 times (Four full runs and two performances.) That’s a lot of love to give (to Susanna and to the art form), but I am lucky to get to do this every day. I am usually pretty wiped out at the end of rehearsal and sometimes it takes a lot of energy just to warm up before going into rehearsal, but once I get set and the music is playing, it’s like a fantastic roller coaster ride and by the time “Ah tutti contenti” (All are happy) rolls around near the end of Act 4, I am truly pretty happy.
The wedding dates are set for June 16 and 17…a few days away and there are many more “wedding rehearsals” ahead this week. I’ll keep you posted on all the developments.
Peace,
Eric
Friday, May 25, 2012
You got it, now love it
Everyday that I get up to go to a singing job, I am happy. I am not only happy because I love to sing, but because I realize that there are so many singers out there who have had the training, have the voice, the looks and have invested so much and yet, they are sitting behind a desk, working in a restaurant, tending behind bar or any other number of jobs that are paying the bills while they hit the audition trail.
I worked with a colleague who after I complemented them on how busy they were, gave me a “It’s too much” face and walked away. I was shocked. This person didn’t realize that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) who would love to be so busy doing exactly what they love everyday, getting decent pay and being surrounded by like-minded individuals.
It is very easy to see all the things that are wrong with this or that company, this or that colleague, this or that costume etc…but we have to stop and recognize that there are so many people who would LOVE to be sitting in that rehearsal, working those long hours and singing their hearts out. We are all humans and we get tired, cranky, frustrated and like many opera singers, myself included, have to juggle between keeping our voices in tip top shape and giving it time to restore. Sometimes the demands of the career can take a toll and we start becoming negative about what we have to do instead of waking up each day excited about what we get to do.
I have found myself not appreciating where I am lately and so I am reminding myself (and others) that every singing job we get means that there are people who did not get it and that we should be grateful. There are opportunities to learn from the conductor, the director, our colleagues and those behind the scenes and that we should be grateful that we get to get up everyday and go into a rehearsal for 6 (or more) hours versus sitting behind a desk temping. I am blessed with a voice that has afforded me the chance to sing glorious music, work with wonderfully unique, fascinating and talented people and take me to places I would normally never get to see so I am grateful.
My goal this weekend is to remind myself that I am a working singer and that with the market being so competitive and filled with such an overabundance of talent, I should be grateful for every opera job I am fortunate enough to experience. I am getting paid to sing. Isn’t that what I’ve worked so hard for? So why not enjoy it? Or better yet, love it! Instead of complaining about how much we have to do, maybe we should recognize that we have so much to do because all of the time, energy and financial investments are paying off and that with great talent comes great expectations. We all want the “career” but then when it is given to us, the tendency is to complain about how much time and energy it takes to maintain the expectations placed upon us.
It’s my belief that the people who have achieved the most success in this business are those who set themselves apart by having an extraordinary voice, a brilliant set of acting chops, a wonderful command of languages and that special “it” factor. But on top of that, they appear to love being an opera singer and enjoy everything from the rehearsal process to performing to being in the spotlight. They seem to have a fire, a passion and a sheer joy for what they do. And they always seem grateful.
Peace,
Eric
I worked with a colleague who after I complemented them on how busy they were, gave me a “It’s too much” face and walked away. I was shocked. This person didn’t realize that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) who would love to be so busy doing exactly what they love everyday, getting decent pay and being surrounded by like-minded individuals.
It is very easy to see all the things that are wrong with this or that company, this or that colleague, this or that costume etc…but we have to stop and recognize that there are so many people who would LOVE to be sitting in that rehearsal, working those long hours and singing their hearts out. We are all humans and we get tired, cranky, frustrated and like many opera singers, myself included, have to juggle between keeping our voices in tip top shape and giving it time to restore. Sometimes the demands of the career can take a toll and we start becoming negative about what we have to do instead of waking up each day excited about what we get to do.
I have found myself not appreciating where I am lately and so I am reminding myself (and others) that every singing job we get means that there are people who did not get it and that we should be grateful. There are opportunities to learn from the conductor, the director, our colleagues and those behind the scenes and that we should be grateful that we get to get up everyday and go into a rehearsal for 6 (or more) hours versus sitting behind a desk temping. I am blessed with a voice that has afforded me the chance to sing glorious music, work with wonderfully unique, fascinating and talented people and take me to places I would normally never get to see so I am grateful.
My goal this weekend is to remind myself that I am a working singer and that with the market being so competitive and filled with such an overabundance of talent, I should be grateful for every opera job I am fortunate enough to experience. I am getting paid to sing. Isn’t that what I’ve worked so hard for? So why not enjoy it? Or better yet, love it! Instead of complaining about how much we have to do, maybe we should recognize that we have so much to do because all of the time, energy and financial investments are paying off and that with great talent comes great expectations. We all want the “career” but then when it is given to us, the tendency is to complain about how much time and energy it takes to maintain the expectations placed upon us.
It’s my belief that the people who have achieved the most success in this business are those who set themselves apart by having an extraordinary voice, a brilliant set of acting chops, a wonderful command of languages and that special “it” factor. But on top of that, they appear to love being an opera singer and enjoy everything from the rehearsal process to performing to being in the spotlight. They seem to have a fire, a passion and a sheer joy for what they do. And they always seem grateful.
Peace,
Eric
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
It's all covered
I am currently in St. Petersburg, Fl covering the role of Figaro in Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro. I have been a cover before and have in two instances had to step into rehearsal. One particular day I got the call to actually go on and while everyone else was buzzing with nervous energy, I was excited to do it.
Being a cover is a weird job as you are at every rehearsal and you sit and watch. It's rare that you will get a chance to actually play on the stage (unless the company is relaxed and lets you.) You often have to absorb all the information that is given to the person you are covering and yet the only chance to get to "do it" is in the privacy of your home. Some houses actually set aside separate rehearsals specifically for the covers, which allows you to get the staging in your body. You may also get the chance to sing with the orchestra and feel how the role sits in your body.
Having been on both sides of the coin where I have been a cover and been covered I know that the relationship between the two artists sharing the role can be anything from fantastically supportive to civil to non-existent. The person who has the role is focused on the job and the person covering is focused on trying to make certain they have the role together in the event that they need to step in.
Some artists that are being covered are quite generous and will share tips on acting, singing or language. Some will simply ignore the cover as they might feel a bit of someone breathing down their neck that keeps offering them tea. Others will smile and at least acknowledge that there is another person ready to jump in, but will also let them know in that smile that there is not a chance in hell that they will give up a rehearsal or performance. The cover could also be anything from a super excited person who is there to learn to someone who wants to "Kerrigan" the person they are covering so that they can go on.
The job of the cover is to be there, learn what they need to learn, be pleasant and when given the opportunity to sing in rehearsal or do the show to dazzle the company so much that they think, this artist is one to consider for a mainstage role (or another cover assignment.)
Some people hate being a cover and find the whole experience frustrating. Since I am constant student, I find it a great way to learn. Every singer has something to teach us and I enjoy watching and listening. If I hear a singer that I really like, I take constant notes about how they approach a particular phrase, how they react to their colleagues onstage and how they work with the various others behind the scenes.
I recently did a production of La Traviata where I sang the Marquis. While I was not covering the role of Germont, I was constantly impressed with the technique, the style and the demeanor of the artist playing Germont. He managed the difficult balance of being a supportive colleague, a self-nurturing artist and a constant professional. He was fun, light, serious, dedicated, friendly, kind and yet took the necessary time and space to be completely prepared and ready for rehearsals and performances. Did I mention that he is one of the finest singers out there doing it?
I took a lot of notes on how approached phrasing, how he interacted with the staff and conductor, how he channeled his energy onstage and how he handled the technical demands of the role. Sometimes we get so caught up in what we are doing that we forget to be a student and just learn. This is why I love covering because someone is paying you to be a student of the art and in most cases the person you are covering is giving a masterclass on so many things opera.
So remember these little tips for covering:
1) Know your stuff (score, character, the period, the language)
2) Be ready to sit and watch and be ready to jump in if needed
3) Give the person you are covering space and let them approach you
4) Smile and enjoy that you are working
5) Take great notes
6) If called on to step in, be amazing and make the company say, "wow, this kid is great!"
Peace,
Eric
Being a cover is a weird job as you are at every rehearsal and you sit and watch. It's rare that you will get a chance to actually play on the stage (unless the company is relaxed and lets you.) You often have to absorb all the information that is given to the person you are covering and yet the only chance to get to "do it" is in the privacy of your home. Some houses actually set aside separate rehearsals specifically for the covers, which allows you to get the staging in your body. You may also get the chance to sing with the orchestra and feel how the role sits in your body.
Having been on both sides of the coin where I have been a cover and been covered I know that the relationship between the two artists sharing the role can be anything from fantastically supportive to civil to non-existent. The person who has the role is focused on the job and the person covering is focused on trying to make certain they have the role together in the event that they need to step in.
Some artists that are being covered are quite generous and will share tips on acting, singing or language. Some will simply ignore the cover as they might feel a bit of someone breathing down their neck that keeps offering them tea. Others will smile and at least acknowledge that there is another person ready to jump in, but will also let them know in that smile that there is not a chance in hell that they will give up a rehearsal or performance. The cover could also be anything from a super excited person who is there to learn to someone who wants to "Kerrigan" the person they are covering so that they can go on.
The job of the cover is to be there, learn what they need to learn, be pleasant and when given the opportunity to sing in rehearsal or do the show to dazzle the company so much that they think, this artist is one to consider for a mainstage role (or another cover assignment.)
Some people hate being a cover and find the whole experience frustrating. Since I am constant student, I find it a great way to learn. Every singer has something to teach us and I enjoy watching and listening. If I hear a singer that I really like, I take constant notes about how they approach a particular phrase, how they react to their colleagues onstage and how they work with the various others behind the scenes.
I recently did a production of La Traviata where I sang the Marquis. While I was not covering the role of Germont, I was constantly impressed with the technique, the style and the demeanor of the artist playing Germont. He managed the difficult balance of being a supportive colleague, a self-nurturing artist and a constant professional. He was fun, light, serious, dedicated, friendly, kind and yet took the necessary time and space to be completely prepared and ready for rehearsals and performances. Did I mention that he is one of the finest singers out there doing it?
I took a lot of notes on how approached phrasing, how he interacted with the staff and conductor, how he channeled his energy onstage and how he handled the technical demands of the role. Sometimes we get so caught up in what we are doing that we forget to be a student and just learn. This is why I love covering because someone is paying you to be a student of the art and in most cases the person you are covering is giving a masterclass on so many things opera.
So remember these little tips for covering:
1) Know your stuff (score, character, the period, the language)
2) Be ready to sit and watch and be ready to jump in if needed
3) Give the person you are covering space and let them approach you
4) Smile and enjoy that you are working
5) Take great notes
6) If called on to step in, be amazing and make the company say, "wow, this kid is great!"
Peace,
Eric
Friday, April 13, 2012
The show must go on!
You rehearse for three weeks getting to know your colleagues and forming some sort of connection and then suddenly you hear some of the worst news in the operatic world...someone, in this instance, our originally scheduled soprano who was set to make her debut as Violetta, has strep and can't do the show! The young lady who is covering the role is not ready, not because she is under prepared, but because the original cover had to cancel and she was bumped up so she was quickly learning the role, but was not ready to go onstage and actually sing. Enter the soprano who had sung another role with the company earlier that season and who happened to have done the role of Violetta a few years back. At the Orchestra Dress she sang the role from the side with a score. The next night she performed it having just learned earlier that day at 3 pm that she would be performing and at last night's opening, she went on and "did the damn thing!"
Recently soprano Hei-Kyung Hong was called upon to open the Met's recent production of "La Traviata" when Nataile Dessay was unable to perform due to illness. (Something in the NYC water?) Hong has been a "cover" artist at the Met for many years saving productions here and there while also singing leading roles at the Met. It takes nerves of steal, a calm soul and a sound technique to jump in on a moment's notice because ultimately the show must go on!
I write about this because often some of the greatest opportunities come in the flash of a moment and having an arsenal of roles ready and performed allows a singer to jump in and not only save the performance, but the company.
While a Young Artist at Virginia Opera, I was assigned to cover Rocco the jailor in Beethoven's "Fidelio." Now I NEVER thought I would go on as the guy singing the role was a rock star, but I was fully prepared and ready just in case. Opening night came and went and was a huge success. But on the day of the second performance, a matinee, I received the phone call telling me that I was going on that afternoon. I rushed to the theater, after a quick water splash-splash taking with me some water, some deodorant and my score. I arrived amidst a buzz of excitement with my colleagues giving me the "it's going to be great even though I've never heard you sing before and we've barely met" smile, the costumer drenched in sweat as she realizes that I'm about 7 inches shorter than the person I'm covering and that she had to make some SERIOUS alterations, the conductor who wanted to make certain I was ready and the artistic staff who were highly frantic, but trying to mask it, asking me over and over again if I was calm.
Oddly enough I was. I felt no terror because I knew in my head that I could do this. I wasn't going to be perfect, but I had been to the rehearsals, done at least three cover rehearsals and knew the score pretty well although I am certain I put a few "ich's" and "ach's" where there were none. The ovation I received from the audience was wonderful and made me realize that I could not only do this, but I could do this well. It was one of the great moments in my operatic life and it gave me a great deal of respect for anyone who covers and has to go on at the drop of a hat.
For every opera singer out there performing, there is another one (sometimes two) waiting in the wings (or in the audience or at home on their couch) just in case they need to go on and being ready musically, dramatically and most importantly emotionally makes them an invaluable artist in the operatic world.
Peace,
Eric
Recently soprano Hei-Kyung Hong was called upon to open the Met's recent production of "La Traviata" when Nataile Dessay was unable to perform due to illness. (Something in the NYC water?) Hong has been a "cover" artist at the Met for many years saving productions here and there while also singing leading roles at the Met. It takes nerves of steal, a calm soul and a sound technique to jump in on a moment's notice because ultimately the show must go on!
I write about this because often some of the greatest opportunities come in the flash of a moment and having an arsenal of roles ready and performed allows a singer to jump in and not only save the performance, but the company.
While a Young Artist at Virginia Opera, I was assigned to cover Rocco the jailor in Beethoven's "Fidelio." Now I NEVER thought I would go on as the guy singing the role was a rock star, but I was fully prepared and ready just in case. Opening night came and went and was a huge success. But on the day of the second performance, a matinee, I received the phone call telling me that I was going on that afternoon. I rushed to the theater, after a quick water splash-splash taking with me some water, some deodorant and my score. I arrived amidst a buzz of excitement with my colleagues giving me the "it's going to be great even though I've never heard you sing before and we've barely met" smile, the costumer drenched in sweat as she realizes that I'm about 7 inches shorter than the person I'm covering and that she had to make some SERIOUS alterations, the conductor who wanted to make certain I was ready and the artistic staff who were highly frantic, but trying to mask it, asking me over and over again if I was calm.
Oddly enough I was. I felt no terror because I knew in my head that I could do this. I wasn't going to be perfect, but I had been to the rehearsals, done at least three cover rehearsals and knew the score pretty well although I am certain I put a few "ich's" and "ach's" where there were none. The ovation I received from the audience was wonderful and made me realize that I could not only do this, but I could do this well. It was one of the great moments in my operatic life and it gave me a great deal of respect for anyone who covers and has to go on at the drop of a hat.
For every opera singer out there performing, there is another one (sometimes two) waiting in the wings (or in the audience or at home on their couch) just in case they need to go on and being ready musically, dramatically and most importantly emotionally makes them an invaluable artist in the operatic world.
Peace,
Eric
Monday, April 2, 2012
Inspiration
I have been listening to a lot of opera lately. In addition to listening to recordings of "Le Nozze di Figaro" and "La Traviata," (Traviata goes up with Dicapo Opera in a few weeks and then I jump into two different productions of "Nozze" first with St. Petersburg Opera, then Bel Cantanti Opera in DC), I have been trying to catch the MET's Radio Broadcast (online) and any other gems of the operatic nature when I find out about them.
Part of my listening is purely to understand how various artists handle certain arias, phrases, recitatives and part of it is to remember the sheer joy and beauty that comes from great singing. It always puts me back in focus and reminds me that the music, the drama, the character and the text are the most important things and what one does with them are what keeps us coming back to these great works of art over and over again.
Last Saturday I listened to the MET's broadcast of "L'Elisir d"Amore", Donizetti's bubbly score with wonderful characters, a lovely story of blossoming romance filled with complications and some of the best artists in the world singing. Juan Diego Florez's "Una furtiva lagrima" brought down the house with the audience calling for an encore, so he repeated it adding a little different twist here and there. (A rare event at the MET.) Besides loving what the singers were doing vocally and dramatically, I was inspired by the sheer joy that was coming through the broadcast and that the singers seemed to be excited and happy to be there.
A few days later, I heard the Lyric Opera of Chicago's "Rising Stars" Concert which featured members of the Ryan Opera Center (the professional training program) in arias and ensembles from the Bel Canto, French, German, Russian and American arsenals. It was a great oppotunity to hear some exciting young singers who are well-trained and making great strides in becoming well-rounded performers. Again, I felt inspired to refine, practice, interpret and rethink all of the music I am so fortunate to get to sing.
The pressures of making a living, being prepared, understanding one's place in the business and balancing one's professional and personal lives can make it seem like being an opera singer is all about just trying to stay on top of things and that can be exhausting. Sometimes we have to look outside of ourselves for inspiration and not only in the amazing singing of others, but in film, art, music of all styles, fashion, dance and other art forms where an artist is able to transcend just doing enough to get by and really truly sparks something within us that makes us not only feel something, but makes us want to have that same effect in our own art-making.
We give so much as artists and we need to replenish oursleves through absorbing other forms of art in which we can draw inspiration. So get out there and listen, see, hear, feel and react!
Peace,
Eric
Part of my listening is purely to understand how various artists handle certain arias, phrases, recitatives and part of it is to remember the sheer joy and beauty that comes from great singing. It always puts me back in focus and reminds me that the music, the drama, the character and the text are the most important things and what one does with them are what keeps us coming back to these great works of art over and over again.
Last Saturday I listened to the MET's broadcast of "L'Elisir d"Amore", Donizetti's bubbly score with wonderful characters, a lovely story of blossoming romance filled with complications and some of the best artists in the world singing. Juan Diego Florez's "Una furtiva lagrima" brought down the house with the audience calling for an encore, so he repeated it adding a little different twist here and there. (A rare event at the MET.) Besides loving what the singers were doing vocally and dramatically, I was inspired by the sheer joy that was coming through the broadcast and that the singers seemed to be excited and happy to be there.
A few days later, I heard the Lyric Opera of Chicago's "Rising Stars" Concert which featured members of the Ryan Opera Center (the professional training program) in arias and ensembles from the Bel Canto, French, German, Russian and American arsenals. It was a great oppotunity to hear some exciting young singers who are well-trained and making great strides in becoming well-rounded performers. Again, I felt inspired to refine, practice, interpret and rethink all of the music I am so fortunate to get to sing.
The pressures of making a living, being prepared, understanding one's place in the business and balancing one's professional and personal lives can make it seem like being an opera singer is all about just trying to stay on top of things and that can be exhausting. Sometimes we have to look outside of ourselves for inspiration and not only in the amazing singing of others, but in film, art, music of all styles, fashion, dance and other art forms where an artist is able to transcend just doing enough to get by and really truly sparks something within us that makes us not only feel something, but makes us want to have that same effect in our own art-making.
We give so much as artists and we need to replenish oursleves through absorbing other forms of art in which we can draw inspiration. So get out there and listen, see, hear, feel and react!
Peace,
Eric
Sunday, March 25, 2012
And now for something totally different
As an opera singer, you spend the majority of your time singing music from composers of the 18th, 19th and early 20th century. The wealth of roles and composers is extensive and one has to do quite a bit of homework in order to not only understand the pieces musically, but also dramatically and what was actually happening historically in order to understand the composer's intentions. There are vocal coaches and singers who serve as an invaluable resource in helping a singer navigate the terrain of what the composer and librettist intended. Coupled with the singer's intentions and the guidance of the stage director, a singer hopefully creates a fully dimensional character.
At the present, I am singing the world premiere reading of an opera called The Mark of Cain by composer Matthew Harris and librettist Terry Quinn. Because the piece is brand spanking new, it is a luxury to have the composer and the librettist there at the rehearsals offering insight, correcting pitches we might be approximating (some of the intervals-distances from pitch to pitch-are very tricky), and clarifying why a certain passage was set a certain way whether musically or dramatically. It has helped me in creating a character, finding vocal colors and gaining a better understanding of what the composer and librettist had in their ear when they were writing and composing. It's actually very exciting! Imagine being able to tell Verdi and Piave or Mozart and DaPonte that you really love this particular passage or have them give you notes on text and music or, even better, have them tell you that you are fantastic!
One of the other interesting things about working on a 21st century opera is gaining insight into the composer's musical language. The overall piece is filled with some difficult tonality, but is incredibly tonal. It has a wide range (at least my role does) and yet it is highly singable. The librettist's text offers some beautiful moments of operatic language while at the same time is highly fresh and current. I had an opportunity to speak to both of them about their process and was fascinated to know that the composer started with the middle of the opera and worked his way out while the librettist and the composer worked separately and connected via email. This reminded me of the letters betweeen Verdi and Piave and while there has been many years since we've communicated via letters, the practice of working apart is still in practice.
I've worked on two new operas in the past, but this experience is the most special. I think my knowledge as a singer and an actor has allowed me to enjoy the process a lot more. I also think the fact that I am the lead and that the text, music and character seem to fit my voice well makes me want to champion this new opera and hopefully have the chance to sing it again!
Peace,
Eric
At the present, I am singing the world premiere reading of an opera called The Mark of Cain by composer Matthew Harris and librettist Terry Quinn. Because the piece is brand spanking new, it is a luxury to have the composer and the librettist there at the rehearsals offering insight, correcting pitches we might be approximating (some of the intervals-distances from pitch to pitch-are very tricky), and clarifying why a certain passage was set a certain way whether musically or dramatically. It has helped me in creating a character, finding vocal colors and gaining a better understanding of what the composer and librettist had in their ear when they were writing and composing. It's actually very exciting! Imagine being able to tell Verdi and Piave or Mozart and DaPonte that you really love this particular passage or have them give you notes on text and music or, even better, have them tell you that you are fantastic!
One of the other interesting things about working on a 21st century opera is gaining insight into the composer's musical language. The overall piece is filled with some difficult tonality, but is incredibly tonal. It has a wide range (at least my role does) and yet it is highly singable. The librettist's text offers some beautiful moments of operatic language while at the same time is highly fresh and current. I had an opportunity to speak to both of them about their process and was fascinated to know that the composer started with the middle of the opera and worked his way out while the librettist and the composer worked separately and connected via email. This reminded me of the letters betweeen Verdi and Piave and while there has been many years since we've communicated via letters, the practice of working apart is still in practice.
I've worked on two new operas in the past, but this experience is the most special. I think my knowledge as a singer and an actor has allowed me to enjoy the process a lot more. I also think the fact that I am the lead and that the text, music and character seem to fit my voice well makes me want to champion this new opera and hopefully have the chance to sing it again!
Peace,
Eric
Sunday, March 4, 2012
What exactly do you do?
Inspired by the rash of posts that aim to explain various professions from the eyes of various parts of society, I decided to clarify what it is that I ACTUALLY do. Even some of my dearest friends think I just wake up, jet off to an exotic locale,sing a few phrases and collect a check. Sometimes this does happen, but it's very rare. The majority of my time is NOT spent in the act of singing, but trying to get singing work. And when there is work, the majority of my time is spent in preparation and finally, there is the work itself which usually lasts about three weeks (sometimes longer if you are lucky.) For those who wonder "what is it that you do all day?" This blog post is for you.
There are four types of days when one is an opera singer: performance day, rehearsal day, audition day and for many, the most common of days: the hustle, practice, email, market, workout, memorize, update, research and work day.
I'll start with Performance Day:
This is the day that I love the most. It's special for two reasons: 1) You get to perform and 2) You get paid to perform--two of my favorite things. I was fortunate to have a very busy fall seasom and am looking forward to a busy spring and summer and it is those performance days that keep you plugging along even in the face of rejection, a bad singing day, expenses such as voice lessons, coachings, travel and photos and resumes and that nagging voice that tells you, you should be MORE successful. Performance days take a lot out of me so I like to rest as much as possible, reamin silent and sometimes eat just enough to get through the show, but no more than that. Sometimes you have to interact with colleagues, possibly sign a poster or meet with VIPs pre-performance, but mostly you just relax, go to the theater, get into make-up and costume, warm-up and go. I will often study the score the day of the show as it makes me feel "settled." Perhaps it's more a way to remain focused without exuding too much energy. It's funny, but I really like being alone with the score (my lover at that time) and immersing myself. Finally once I get to the theater I can feel the energy of the performance and if the elements allign, then the show can be magical!
Rehearsal day:
The company meets and you sing through the show with the other cast members with the conductor and stage the show with the director. One of the big differences between the opera world and the musical theatre and theatre worlds is that you show up with the role completely memorized and already with a strong point of view of your character. While there is a chance to work with the conductor and director to shape these things, the singer must already have it very well engrained and what I like to call "in the body." What I love most about rehearsal is finding the chemistry with my colleagues. Sometimes it's like finding a long-lost friend, other times, it develops slowly into something really warm and easy and sometimes you just go in and do your job and do your best to create the illusion that the singer you must be in love with will keep their "crazy" bottled up enough to get through the day. It can be a crap shoot, but it's never dull!
Audition day:
This is the day when you go before the firing squad also known as the audition panel. In truth, many singers HATE auditioning. I have grown to like it, but some days you are amazing and other days you walk out wondering whose voice that was coming out of your body. A lot of my non-singing friends think this must be the easiest thing in the world, but unlike shows like American Idol and the Voice, the judges don't offer feedback (sometimes they will, but it is rare) and if you are singing for mainstage, you may have to wait days, weeks, months (or even years) before you hear anything!
Opera auditions are a lot like taking an oral Nationalized Standard Test. You have to show a high level of vocal beauty, power, nuance and drama. On top of that you must show that you not only can pronounce the text well (sometimes for native speakers) but also that you understand not only the literal meaning of the text, but also the subtext. Finally you must show that you understand the context in which your aria is happening through action and movement. A servant role from a Mozart opera will move and react differently than a noble character from a Verdi opera. The preparation that goes into an audition is usually many long hours of memorizing, practicing, researching and mental focus all for five to ten minutes of an audition. It's a crazy process, but without the audition, one can't get work.
The hustle, practice, email, market, workout, memorize, update, research and work day:
This day may begin at 8am with reading emails, responding to emails and writing emails. The emails are all about past work (thank you's), current work (clarification of rehearsal notes etc...) and future work (auditions, travel arrangements, cuts to the score etc...) Then there is the part of the day that I call the "hustle." This is all about getting work for the future. This includes researching auditions, getting auditions and following up after auditions. This takes up a good deal of time, but is neccessary! Then I might move to the marketing portion of my day-this involves emailing places where you've worked to let them know what you are doing now, contacting people who could hire you in an area where you will be working to come hear a performance or sending info to the press to cover a recital you are given. (Note: You and your agent will work on this together and the higher you are on the operatic rung, the less you have to do yourself.) Next we go to the workout. Opera Singers are now being shown in HD and the expectation is that you are an amazing singer, fabulous actor and look like someone who one would want to, as Eddie Murphy said in "Coming to America": "put on a plate and sop up with a biscuit." Men in opera may have to go shirtless and if you are a great singing actor and you're very good-looking and in shape, you will move up to the front of the pack. After the workout, one goes into practice mode (which sometimes comes before the workout depending on the day). This is where you not only practice the music for the upcoming opera, but work on technical things you and your teacher want to improve. This may also include a voice lesson or a vocal coaching where you work on technique, dramatic interpretation and language. This can take any where from an hour to several hours. The final part is memorization. It takes a long time to learn the text, notes, stories, characters, historical context and nuances of an opera. Most singers are cast six months to several years ahead so as to give the singer enough time to learn all of these things.
The final thing is that a singer must work (unless they are singing constantly at the world's greatest opera houses) to maintain the expenses of this career (lessons, coachings, travel etc...) By the time one does all of this, it's usually six pm or later and another day comes to an end. This takes incredible DISCIPLINE and some days you don't feel like doing it, but this business is too competitive to "not feel like it."
I have been very fortunate that I am able to do this as my career. I am also very fortunate that I have a wonderful support system of family, friends and colleagues and that I absolutely LOVE what I am doing.
What they don't tell you in school is that not everyone has an easy time of this career, but if you love it beyond belief, are disciplined, willing to deal with rejection and the uncertainty of the business, then you just might make it. While it's always good to remember the immortal words of DJay from the movie "Hustle and Flow" It's hard out there for a pimp, it's more important to follow the advice of recent Screen Actors Guild winner for Best Actress, Viola Davis "Dream Big. Dream Fierce."
Peace,
Eric
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Dream Big, Dream Fierce
My last post was filled with questioning. After a difficult audition season where I was always the "bridesmaid, but never the bride" I found myself doubting if this is what I'm meant to do. It's no great revelation that the life of a performing artist is akin to riding an unknown rollercoaster. The phrase going with the flow is a neccesary thing as one tries to navigate through auditions, lessons, coachings, finances and self-worth. When the work is plenty, the outlook is good. When you hear "no", you find yourself wondering if you are good enough.
I happened to find myself watching the SAG awards last weekend and Viola Davis, perhaps one of the greatest actors of our time, won Best Actress in a Leading role. Her speech, as all of her speeches tend to be, was filled with hope, gratitude, acknowledgment and class. She reminded the students where she grew up to "dream big, dream fierce." Something in me clicked and I remembered that nothing is permanent including feeling low. I reminded myself that for the last two years I have had an amazing run with opportunities that most singers would kill for. I also reminded myself that I had only returned to the buisness two years ago and that what I was hearing wasn't "no, you're not good enough", but "maybe not this role, but we like what you are doing and want to hear you again for other things."
Once I understood this, I realized that I was judging myself far more harshly than any of those who could have hired me. I wasn't looking at the situation fully and was just dealing with the rejection that does indeed suck. Just as I came to this realization a few offers from companies I had auditioned for came to me. It was as if the Universe, God, Good Orderly Direction was saying :Now that you've moped and learned your lesson, you can move forward.
In the last few years I have seen some of my friends achieve amazing success. Some are singing and covering at the MET, some have been cast on new TV shows, winning Emmys for original works or debuting on Broadway. Some are making important debuts with opera companies or winning major competitions. I am surrounded by incredible talent and the fact that I get to sometimes work with these people is a testament that I am in that bubble of possibilty where one audition or one performance could propel my career forward.
My dream is to be a working opera singer where I get to work with fantastic colleagues, sing glorious music and enjoy the life of a musician. I am doing that. I am making my living as a singer and sometimes it's tough (like any job) and sometimes it's one of the greatest joys in my life. It took Viola Davis to remind me that in order to do what I do I must always remember to "Dream Big. Dream Fierce."
Peace,
Eric McKeever
I happened to find myself watching the SAG awards last weekend and Viola Davis, perhaps one of the greatest actors of our time, won Best Actress in a Leading role. Her speech, as all of her speeches tend to be, was filled with hope, gratitude, acknowledgment and class. She reminded the students where she grew up to "dream big, dream fierce." Something in me clicked and I remembered that nothing is permanent including feeling low. I reminded myself that for the last two years I have had an amazing run with opportunities that most singers would kill for. I also reminded myself that I had only returned to the buisness two years ago and that what I was hearing wasn't "no, you're not good enough", but "maybe not this role, but we like what you are doing and want to hear you again for other things."
Once I understood this, I realized that I was judging myself far more harshly than any of those who could have hired me. I wasn't looking at the situation fully and was just dealing with the rejection that does indeed suck. Just as I came to this realization a few offers from companies I had auditioned for came to me. It was as if the Universe, God, Good Orderly Direction was saying :Now that you've moped and learned your lesson, you can move forward.
In the last few years I have seen some of my friends achieve amazing success. Some are singing and covering at the MET, some have been cast on new TV shows, winning Emmys for original works or debuting on Broadway. Some are making important debuts with opera companies or winning major competitions. I am surrounded by incredible talent and the fact that I get to sometimes work with these people is a testament that I am in that bubble of possibilty where one audition or one performance could propel my career forward.
My dream is to be a working opera singer where I get to work with fantastic colleagues, sing glorious music and enjoy the life of a musician. I am doing that. I am making my living as a singer and sometimes it's tough (like any job) and sometimes it's one of the greatest joys in my life. It took Viola Davis to remind me that in order to do what I do I must always remember to "Dream Big. Dream Fierce."
Peace,
Eric McKeever
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
To be or not to be...
The last two months have been rather tough. After what turned out to be a rather odd audition season, I find myself back in the place of questioning whether or not I want to continue on this path. My auditions have gone very well and people seemed incredibly impressed and yet I still seem to be passed over for things. I have had many quiet moments thinking, writing and reasoning trying to figure out why I am not where I want to be. The holidays were filled with a bit of melancholy as many things have come back as a "no" and some things changed because of a new direction for the production. Hopes were dashed and dreams deferred, so why continue when I could go back into arts administraiton and at least have some sense of consistency?
For some people they go the traditional path of undergrad, grad school, major YAP, agent and then work. Sometimes these things overlap especially if someone is particularly good. My path as a singer has had its shares of ups and downs. While still in grad school, I was cast as a cover for the world premiere of an opera at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. It was an amazing experience! After that I was hired back two more times to sing with the Lyric Opera's Opera in the Neighborhoods program singing alongside alumni of the Lyric Opera Center. Again, I felt like I was working with some great talent and really learning a lot. Then things became tough and after doing nearly every regional opera company YAP in the midwest, I got stuck and then injured and had to stop and recover. Barely back to full health, I went off to do another YAP and had a rollercoaster of a ride filled with excitment (making my mainstage debut for an indesposed colleague) to feeling like nothing (singing for a room full of drunk people who didn't care.) I was tired, confused, lonely and hurting so I decided I needed to reassess.
After 6 years of being away from singing, I jumped back into this wacky business after getting a role in the National Tour of Porgy and Bess. I was rejuvenated and excited about singing again. I had retapped my artistic self and it felt very good, but now two years later, I feel tired, lost and confused again. I feel like I have all the goods and have been told as much, but something is keeping me from getting jobs and I also feel like I could be doing something else that would serve people and myself in a better way. I have always believed that others should not influence how we feel about ourselves and we are constantly told to follow our dreams. I have to decided if I am going to continue this or if I need to find another dream to pursue because of all the things I have tried in my life, this, being an opera singer, has always been the most dfficult.
I don't know where I will be in 6 months, but I sense that I need for something MAJOR to happen. I believe in my talent and I know there are others that do as well. What I don't believe in is the life. Perhaps I am not cut out for it. I have missed and given up so much by being away and yet being away is the only way to get work so...
I simply am in the process of questioning if this is where I am best suited. I love opera so much and I love performing and learning and growing. Perhaps in a few days something will come through and perhaps I will come to the conclusion that I don't have to do this as a career, but I will continue to write about my journey "back in the game" as I think it gives a lot of insight into the mind of someone who wants it and goes for it and the joys, fears, rewards and doubts that come with it.
Peace,
Eric
For some people they go the traditional path of undergrad, grad school, major YAP, agent and then work. Sometimes these things overlap especially if someone is particularly good. My path as a singer has had its shares of ups and downs. While still in grad school, I was cast as a cover for the world premiere of an opera at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. It was an amazing experience! After that I was hired back two more times to sing with the Lyric Opera's Opera in the Neighborhoods program singing alongside alumni of the Lyric Opera Center. Again, I felt like I was working with some great talent and really learning a lot. Then things became tough and after doing nearly every regional opera company YAP in the midwest, I got stuck and then injured and had to stop and recover. Barely back to full health, I went off to do another YAP and had a rollercoaster of a ride filled with excitment (making my mainstage debut for an indesposed colleague) to feeling like nothing (singing for a room full of drunk people who didn't care.) I was tired, confused, lonely and hurting so I decided I needed to reassess.
After 6 years of being away from singing, I jumped back into this wacky business after getting a role in the National Tour of Porgy and Bess. I was rejuvenated and excited about singing again. I had retapped my artistic self and it felt very good, but now two years later, I feel tired, lost and confused again. I feel like I have all the goods and have been told as much, but something is keeping me from getting jobs and I also feel like I could be doing something else that would serve people and myself in a better way. I have always believed that others should not influence how we feel about ourselves and we are constantly told to follow our dreams. I have to decided if I am going to continue this or if I need to find another dream to pursue because of all the things I have tried in my life, this, being an opera singer, has always been the most dfficult.
I don't know where I will be in 6 months, but I sense that I need for something MAJOR to happen. I believe in my talent and I know there are others that do as well. What I don't believe in is the life. Perhaps I am not cut out for it. I have missed and given up so much by being away and yet being away is the only way to get work so...
I simply am in the process of questioning if this is where I am best suited. I love opera so much and I love performing and learning and growing. Perhaps in a few days something will come through and perhaps I will come to the conclusion that I don't have to do this as a career, but I will continue to write about my journey "back in the game" as I think it gives a lot of insight into the mind of someone who wants it and goes for it and the joys, fears, rewards and doubts that come with it.
Peace,
Eric
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