Every opera singer who goes home for the holidays must engage in the normal family chit-chat about what they are doing, where they are singing, and what it is exactly that they do. I have come up with some sure fire answers that will help you navigate the family dinner without feeling like you are constantly defending your choice to be an “artist.”
Often we singers are asked: Where are you singing? This question has two purposes, one, they genuinely have an interest in your career and/or two, they don’t believe you are performing and are trying to prove their point. If you are lucky enough to be performing, keep your answers concise. Explain that you will be traveling to (insert various city name) to perform (insert composer.) If they want more details, lay the names of the character, opera and opera company on them. I find that naming three engagements usually satisfies any query. If you don’t have a lot of upcoming work, then mention recent work (anything you got paid to do is fair game from subbing at a church job to four hours of professional caroling.) Also include that you spent “audition season” (it’s fun to use industry lingo) singing for a variety of opera companies and that your temp job, church job, performing-for-kid’s-parties job are all so that you can move up in the opera world.
Another popular question you might hear is: Well, did you get it? in regards to your recent audition. For people not in the business of auditioning or who’ve watched the “Making of Peter Pan Live,” there is an expectation that after your audition, they will offer a role right on the spot. You will most likely have to explain that opera companies take time to make decisions. If you get hired, you might hear within a month to three month period or in most cases, you won’t hear anything. Explain that opera companies hear anywhere from 100 to 1,000 people each season and must decide from that group of auditions. (Some companies will hold call-backs, but that is pretty rare.) Also, share that opera companies often are hearing for works a year to three years out so you might be under consideration, but you won’t hear anything for some time.
If you are fortunate enough to sing full-time, and you happen to not be singing an engagement at the moment, there may be a question of you “working” while at home. Folks who are used to a steady nine-to-five, can sometimes find it difficult to understand the concept of being a freelance artist. We all know that our job is not just showing up to rehearsal and doing a performance. There is a huge amount of prep work that goes into getting a role ready and that this is “work” just like being in rehearsal and singing performances. An easy way to explain the value of prep-time is to compare it to a nine-to-fiver’s pay schedule. Most people receive a pay check every two weeks. Normally, a person works two weeks, there is a week for the payment to be processed and they receive the payment at the end of the third week. I like to explain that freelance opera work is very similar in that there is a work period, a payment process period and then a payment date. The main difference is that the work period is longer and is divided into three sections: the preparatory period (which is self-guided), the rehearsal period and the performance period. Just like a person in an office isn’t given a check each day (that would be a lot of paperwork to process!), opera singers don’t get paid until the performances. Some of the larger opera houses do pay during the rehearsal period (especially if you are covering, but that’s a whole other story.) Ultimately, you want to show how similar the opera field is to the business field and remind them that there is always “work” to be done (translation, memorization, vocal technique, stylistic study, dramatic intention and all manner of research on the opera, the characters and the music) and that the fee you receive is the culmination of all work done in advance.
What do you do all day? This is usually asked by the saucy grandma who, at the ripe age of 88, has lost her filter (and perhaps her short term memory.) It’s best to explain that you are self-employed and are a company of one. You maintain the balance of being a singer (study, auditioning, learning roles, rehearsing and performing with opera companies, etc…) and being a business person (securing auditions through your management or self, arranging travel for auditions or opera companies, emails, social media, updating materials, creating/maintaining a web presence, tracking audition/performance expenses etc…) Since each opera singer is self-employed, they have to put together their own work schedule. I find that I work best early morning to early evening. I answer emails, do research and complete updates, and engage in social media first (this usually takes a couple of hours.) I then find that score and language work are best mid-morning. Again, this takes a couple of hours. From there I will actually sing for an hour and a half to two hours. After that, I will return to emails for another hour or so and then I will end my work day with memorization which can last anywhere from two to three hours. In total my “normal” work day is: anywhere from 8 to 10 hours. And this does not include voice lessons or coachings, auditions or while in rehearsal or performance which can add an additional 2 to 6 hours.
Because we are in an age where it seems everyone wants to be famous, the following question may come up and a singer needs to be prepared with a toolkit of responses. Have you auditioned for American Idol, the Voice, America’s Got Talent, Broadway, TV, etc…? My first response is that I specialize in opera and while there have been people who have auditioned for those shows who have an “operatic” sound, many aren’t really pursuing careers as opera singers. (Meaning, they are not performing roles in operas with opera companies. This may need to be further explained.) I follow this up with: “It’s not my intention to be famous in the entertainment world, but rather a singer who has an international (or national if you choose) career working with high-level colleagues.” You might name a few opera singers for them and suggest they Google them in order to get an idea of the difference between the Susan Boyles and the Susan Grahams. Finally, you can assure them that you are on the right path by letting them know about your agent (if you have one), your investment in Yaptracker (if you have it), your voice teacher (you do have one, right?), your vocal coach (wait, you aren’t working with one?!) and the amount of practice that you do (get thee to a practice room!!!)
In truth, it may be difficult to explain why you chose the world of opera over the world of optometry, but know that most people just want to hear that you are doing “Ok,” and are not some lazy, starving artist, beatnik type. Always share with family and friends that opera is a fierce, fantastic, competitive field and the average for working singers is one job out of every ten auditions. The more convinced you are of your own success (getting into that YAP program, finding an agent, getting hired by that company you sang for last month, etc…) the more the folks around the holiday dinner table will be proud of you. And that is the best gift of all.
Peace,
Eric
Friday, December 19, 2014
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Tales from Tour
As an opera singer I have the privilege of dressing up and pretending to be other people, singing exquisite music and getting paid to do so. Sometimes, I even get the joy of introducing opera to young students for the first time and when all of those elements are combined, it can be one of the most satisfying operatic experiences in the world.
Last month I returned to one of my favorite roles: Papageno in The Magic Flute. The sheer silliness that I am allowed to get away with coupled with Mozart’s wonderful score bring a smile to my face every time I play the pipes announcing Papageno’s entrance. This particular production of The Magic Flute is part of the Metropolitan Opera Guild’s Urban Voices program which introduces students to opera for the first time. Many of these students have never experienced an operatic voice up close and what better piece to display all that is opera. You’ve got a wonderful (and in this instance, simplified) story, voices of every type ranging from a dramatic coloratura soprano all the way down to a low bass, and a fast-paced production filled with intrigue, comedy, drama and a dragon! What could be better?
Having done the tour last spring and many other in-school touring productions, I felt that I was a “pro” and nothing could catch me off guard. I’ve dealt with kids who scream bloody murder throughout an entire performance, trying to hold it together while a colleague cracked a note into a thousand pieces at 10 am, and even the lovely sound of a child vomiting during a particularly quiet moment onstage. I was sure nothing could phase me. That was until we performed at a school in Elizabeth, New Jersey.
As part of the element of surprise, my character often enters from somewhere other than the wings. I usually hide outside the cafegymatorium doors waiting patiently for my cue. As the performance got underway, I stood outside of the auditorium listening. I was approached not once, but twice by concerned administrators asking who I was. I completely understand that it is a bit strange to see a guy dressed in a plaid shirt and baseball cap both covered in feathers holding a light blue net and peeking inside an auditorium filled with kids. Both times I had to explain that I was part of the show that was happening and that I would be making my entrance from these doors. One of the teachers seemed fine, but another guy kept giving me the stink eye for at least 30 seconds as I tried to forget his suspicious gaze and listen for my cue. As luck would have it I was about to go in when two things happened simultaneously: 1) a class was dismissing and walking down the hall talking as if they were yelling at someone in Manhattan and 2) a teacher, seeing the door to the auditorium slowly opening took it upon herself to try and close it while I was trying to keep it open in order to hear. In the blink of an eye I missed my cue, pushed past the teacher mumbling that I was making my entrance, and crushed at least two of her feet in the process. I tried to look calm, cool and collected, but felt more like I was accosted, clumsy and a bit creepy.
Luckily the rest of the show went off without a hitch and we received thunderous applause from the group of K-5 students. I explained what had happened to my colleagues backstage regarding my entrance and without missing a beat, the soprano who is singing our Queen of the Night (at 9:30 am in the morning without missing a note, I might add) said I must’ve looked like a “bird of prey.” I had to keep from giggling every time I thought of her words.
Kids are the most honest of critics and if they like something, they really like it and if they don’t like it, they do like most people in a civilized society: they rustle, make noise and talk during pieces which hold little interest for them. It can be a little unnerving to try and convey the nuances of a quintet when a little kindergartner is whispering loudly to a kid two rows behind him about how loud we are. Another interesting thing is that many kids love the comedy, will endure the dialogue, are somewhat fascinated by the fast music and completely check out when anything is “slow.” The arias of Pamina and Tamino are usually highlights of an evening of Magic Flute, but for a 2nd grader, it’s the ideal time to talk to her neighbor about how dreamy Tamino is, all the while ignoring anything he is singing. There is no greater training for a “hostile” audience than a room full of elementary school students.
The completion of 8 performances over two weeks is a major accomplishment and I get to hang Papageno’s pipes up until the next time. But I will always have the joy of singing with wonderful artists, the memory of children laughing and a couple of funny stories to carry me through until Papageno and I meet again.
Peace,
Eric
Last month I returned to one of my favorite roles: Papageno in The Magic Flute. The sheer silliness that I am allowed to get away with coupled with Mozart’s wonderful score bring a smile to my face every time I play the pipes announcing Papageno’s entrance. This particular production of The Magic Flute is part of the Metropolitan Opera Guild’s Urban Voices program which introduces students to opera for the first time. Many of these students have never experienced an operatic voice up close and what better piece to display all that is opera. You’ve got a wonderful (and in this instance, simplified) story, voices of every type ranging from a dramatic coloratura soprano all the way down to a low bass, and a fast-paced production filled with intrigue, comedy, drama and a dragon! What could be better?
Having done the tour last spring and many other in-school touring productions, I felt that I was a “pro” and nothing could catch me off guard. I’ve dealt with kids who scream bloody murder throughout an entire performance, trying to hold it together while a colleague cracked a note into a thousand pieces at 10 am, and even the lovely sound of a child vomiting during a particularly quiet moment onstage. I was sure nothing could phase me. That was until we performed at a school in Elizabeth, New Jersey.
As part of the element of surprise, my character often enters from somewhere other than the wings. I usually hide outside the cafegymatorium doors waiting patiently for my cue. As the performance got underway, I stood outside of the auditorium listening. I was approached not once, but twice by concerned administrators asking who I was. I completely understand that it is a bit strange to see a guy dressed in a plaid shirt and baseball cap both covered in feathers holding a light blue net and peeking inside an auditorium filled with kids. Both times I had to explain that I was part of the show that was happening and that I would be making my entrance from these doors. One of the teachers seemed fine, but another guy kept giving me the stink eye for at least 30 seconds as I tried to forget his suspicious gaze and listen for my cue. As luck would have it I was about to go in when two things happened simultaneously: 1) a class was dismissing and walking down the hall talking as if they were yelling at someone in Manhattan and 2) a teacher, seeing the door to the auditorium slowly opening took it upon herself to try and close it while I was trying to keep it open in order to hear. In the blink of an eye I missed my cue, pushed past the teacher mumbling that I was making my entrance, and crushed at least two of her feet in the process. I tried to look calm, cool and collected, but felt more like I was accosted, clumsy and a bit creepy.
Luckily the rest of the show went off without a hitch and we received thunderous applause from the group of K-5 students. I explained what had happened to my colleagues backstage regarding my entrance and without missing a beat, the soprano who is singing our Queen of the Night (at 9:30 am in the morning without missing a note, I might add) said I must’ve looked like a “bird of prey.” I had to keep from giggling every time I thought of her words.
Kids are the most honest of critics and if they like something, they really like it and if they don’t like it, they do like most people in a civilized society: they rustle, make noise and talk during pieces which hold little interest for them. It can be a little unnerving to try and convey the nuances of a quintet when a little kindergartner is whispering loudly to a kid two rows behind him about how loud we are. Another interesting thing is that many kids love the comedy, will endure the dialogue, are somewhat fascinated by the fast music and completely check out when anything is “slow.” The arias of Pamina and Tamino are usually highlights of an evening of Magic Flute, but for a 2nd grader, it’s the ideal time to talk to her neighbor about how dreamy Tamino is, all the while ignoring anything he is singing. There is no greater training for a “hostile” audience than a room full of elementary school students.
The completion of 8 performances over two weeks is a major accomplishment and I get to hang Papageno’s pipes up until the next time. But I will always have the joy of singing with wonderful artists, the memory of children laughing and a couple of funny stories to carry me through until Papageno and I meet again.
Peace,
Eric
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