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