What the critics say...

People think that being an opera singer is a “cool” job. While I have to admit that I love it, there are components of the job that can make the faint of heart run. Of course, every job has its plusses and minuses, even ones that you love to do. One of the things that can be tough for any singer is the “review.” Every time you get on stage there is someone judging you (critic, producer, director, audience member etc…) so being critiqued is nothing new.

Reviews can often be a double-edge sword. It’s certainly possible that a good review can bring about more work and seeing your performance being lauded in public (print and/or online) can make your next performance even better (not to mention how good it feels for someone to “get” what you do.) But as a friend of mine says, “If you believe the good reviews, you have to believe the bad ones.” So what you do when you get a bad review?

I’ve received a handful of bad reviews. I can usually shake them off and say, “well that’s their opinion and they are entitled to it,” but one particular review really stung. I was singing a supporting role in a regional opera company several years ago and the reviewer wrote for a fairly large magazine. The review was bad and I remember the exact moment I saw it and felt like I had been punched in the stomach. What made it worse was that the review was going to be read by LOTS of people. It really hurt and I think it was the beginning of the blow to my vocal self-esteem. I was upset for many days and I remember just feeling like I was wasting my time. Another friend of mine (It’s good to have them handy,) made me feel much better by saying something that made perfect sense: In this business there are going to be people who just don’t like YOU. It doesn’t matter what you do, they just don’t like you and you are in a business of putting yourself out there to be “judged!” If you let one person’s opinion of you deter you from singing, then you are in the wrong business. (And it should be noted that I took some time off to figure that out.) While we don’t care if people don’t like our clothes, hairstyles or choice of television programs, there is something painful about someone not liking our interpretation of a role.

Her advice, while very true, wasn’t some magic pill of truth that I simply swallowed. It took time to let go of the pain, but it did give me perspective. Just like it’s my job to perform and give the audience a show, it is the critic’s job to express how they viewed the performance. Sometimes they say things like “dashing, vibrant character,” or “a voice of power and brilliance.” And other times they say things like “disappointing,” or even worse “what in the h#$% where they thinking in hiring this kid?” What matters most is that the person performing has to believe in their gifts enough not to worry about what someone else has to say. If you sing for love, then that will translate and the audience will get it. Of course we continue to refine and revamp what we do in order to make it the most professional it can be, but ultimately we have to have the soul of an artist and the hide of an elephant.

Reviews are a necessary evil of the opera world and those of us who get them on a regular basis have to learn to brush them off and still do our best because in truth, we are not performing for the critics, but for the audience. That is the relationship that should motivate us. Whether good or bad, a review can affect us, but every time we step onto that stage, it’s got to be about giving the audience the best show possible.

Peace,

Eric

The Audition

I had four auditions this past week and I felt good about all of them. For most auditions, you do it and hear something only if you get the job. But one of the auditions was the preliminary round for another audition a couple of days later. Unfortunately I did not advance and after the last few months filled with positive reviews and wonderful support from my colleagues, it was a hard pill to swallow.

Auditioning is one of the toughest things in the business. Most people hate it, but I actually enjoy doing them as I feel it is a great chance to "meet" people and introduce myself. Sometimes you just aren't what they are looking for and you have to "let it go." But this was an important group of people and I felt so prepared and so "on." So how do you deal with those feelings and say "who cares?" after being made to feel "not quite good enough?"

I have friends who do different things: Some scream it out, some drink, some cry, some take the rejection as a sign that they are on the cusp and others let it shatter their self confidence. I happen to go through several stages of the above mentioned things: I may cry, get angry and in the instance of this particular audition, I felt my confidence shaken. It's still lingering in the background. The healthy thing for me to do is to realize that this audition was just ten minutes of my career and it's fine. You don't get everything, but it also runs deeper: I have to believe in my talent so much that it doesn't bother me that a group people who have some power to shape a career didn't "get it." In addition, I have to take responsibilty for the audition and say to myself "O.K. self, if that audition wasn't 'enough,' let's work to find out what can make it even better."

Of course this is all easier said than done. But it's the people who bounce back after rejection that seem to have the career. It's the people who are fearless and who know themselves so well that they say, "Well, you don't get me, someone will and I will work and I will have the career and you can't stop me." I like those people. Even if they have fear, theylook at it, stare it down and then walk right into it holding their heads up high. What a great way to be.

So today I say to those who didn't advance me to the next round: "Thanks. I'll be back and next time you'll wonder what you were thinking."

Peace,

Eric

Expect the unexpected

No matter what happens, the show must go on! Many of us in the performing arts have heard it said, but it's when things seem to be most out of our control that this old adage rings true.

I am currently singing the role of Jake in the National Tour of Porgy and Bess and have racked up at least 40 performances. (I stopped counting somewhere between San Antonio and Sarasota.) Most of the performances have been "business as usual" with my cast mates giving 150% and each performance ending with an overwhelming standing ovation. It wasn't until a recent performance in Charlotte, NC that I realized that being a performer means anything, and I mean anything can happen.

Case and point: Following the 20-minute intermission of our recent Saturday evening performance, Jake is set to descend a flight of stairs while announcing to his wife that he is on his way out to sea. It's a beautiful moment that foreshadows the storm that will eventually destroy Jake's boat and cause Clara to run into the storm looking for him. The sound of chimes ringing signals the curtain to rise. The curtain began its slow rise as I began my descent down. The curtain however had a different idea in mind and got caught causing it to lower as I was getting close to singing my opening line. As my music approached, the curtain moved up and down forcing me to fight to see the conductor and get the first line out before the curtain completely covered the scene. Finally giving up, the curtain hit the floor setting of a chain reaction that made the conductor stop the orchestra, the audience to laugh and me to climb back up the stairs with a puzzled look on my face. Before I had a moment to settle, the chimes and curtain began their synchronized dance only for the curtain to again get "stage fright" and lower itself. By this point, I laughed as I wondered how things would turn out. Would the show go on? Would we start over or simply skip my scene altogether? All of this was racing through my mind as I reminded myself to be the consummate professional and just go with the flow. Finally on the third attempt the curtain went up (but only half-way) framing the scene like an odd peep-show where the customer had only put in enough money to view a portion of the show. On the last note of the fisher men's song the curtain, assured of its purpose, went all the way up revealing the entire set and adding dramatic weight to my character's exit. The audience applauded I'm sure with a mix of joy and relief.

I was not the only person to experience an "unusual" performance. Following the show, the lovely soprano who sings my wife was attending the meet and greet portion of the evening where fans of the show come backstage and express how much they enjoyed the performance and in particular, the person they are speaking to. For her, all was normal, until a well-meaning patron made his way over to her. She expected the usual "Your aria was beautiful," "Your performance was moving," etc...but instead the patron simply shook her hand and said that she was holding the baby incorrectly. After a moment of "What?" she gathered her wits about her and simply nodded and smiled. She realized that when you put yourself out there as a performer you not only invite praise, but also critiques from the audience member who is convinced that what they have to say is the end-all-be-all to the newspaper critic who may not like the color of your outfit (or how you hold the baby,) thus affecting how they view your entire performance.

Nothing makes things more unexpected than the arrival of allergens. I often think of them as uninvited party guests. They show up and never seem to want to leave and bring nothing but trouble. Several singers were suffering from some sort of reaction and it actually caused one of the main characters to lose the top part of his voice during the performance. Nothing is more frightening for a singer than losing one's voice. Luckily the company employs covers (understudies) to be ready on a moment's notice. It's often a daunting task to jump into a role when you haven't had the luxury of performing it multiple times. It's even scarier when you have to do it mid-performance. But that was exactly what happened. Because he went on in the role he covered for his colleague, his cover was then bumped up to perform the roles now left vacant. Because we are paid to be ready and live by the idea that the audience deserves the best show possible, the shifts must appear seamless, no matter how much sweat, blood and tears are happening backstage.

The reason we perform is that it allows up to reveal and revel in our true selves. We work hard to make sure those mechanical things, the voice, the performance, the sets, costumes, curtains etc...are all lined up so that can free ourselves and bring truth to the characters we play. But sometimes all that planning gets thrown out the window and we have to deal with the present moment ( a curtain that wants a starring role, a "critic" who wants to have their voice heard or a voice that simply needs to rest) and yet the show waits for no man (or woman) and we must keep going no matter what and rely on the training of being a true professional to get us through.

Peace,
Eric

You better work!

The current economic state presents opera singers with the challenge of being gainfully employed throughout the year. In the good times, singers had to hustle to be employed full-time, but now it seems that more and more singers are struggling to find work. So what does a singer do to ensure that they can spend more time singing and less time worrying?

A change of attitude towards the business is necessary. Take a look at the number of singers you know who are working. If you can name ten, that means that it is possible and you can release the belief that there isn't enough work. Next a singer must accept that they are the CEO of their own product. The singer has to know what their brand is and where it fits into the market. Are you a sexy Mozart singer? Are a you a dramatic voice with an imposing frame? Are you a singer who can play comedy well? It takes the fach categorization one step further. We have to discover our niche in an over-crowded field and how we stand out.

If you are an independent singer, you have to think of yourself as your own agent. Now this can be tricky as those in power are much more comfortable working with agents versus artists. However, artists who have a comfortable relationship with an opera company should be able to talk fairly openly with the company about audition feedback and possible casting choices.
When you have a relationship with a company it's important to keep them informed. Opera companies hear from singers every day. Some are singers they know, some are unknown, some they really love, some they like, but have nothing for (yes this does really happen) and some who seem to not make an impression. It's not uncommon for the powers that be to have thousands of singers in their database (or heads) and a simple e-mail or postcard letting them know what you are doing puts you in their consciousness and let's them see that you are working (and worth hiring.)

The other thing we can do is always be amazing. This is the hardest part, but knowing how competitive this field is, why would we not give ourselves every advantage? Every time we get a chance to sing in public, it should be as if we are performing at the highest level and think that a job could come out of it (and there are times that this does happen.)

Just like Heidi Klum says "Somedays you're in, somedays you're out." Opera is a fickle business so that means we need to be prepared for anything. As the CEO of Opera Singer Extraordinaire Inc., we have to keep our business ahead of the game, competitive and offering a product that is amazing, interesting and one that people want.

Peace,
Eric

Advice for being on the Road

I have embarked on my first national tour and I can say is that there is no preparation for this kind of work. You prepare for the singing, the acting, but no one tells you about the cramped dressing rooms, the behind-the-scenes intrigue or the bus bathroom that smells like something the cat just covered up in its litter box. Nonetheless, I have to express a sheer joy at being an employed singer singing one of the great American operas.

Traveling with a cast of 30, an orchestra of 18, a company manager and performing a show every night can wear a person down and cause a person to act in a "crazy" way. So in an attempt to give some insight into how to survive a national tour, here are five simple rules:

1) Be on time. If you are late, it shows that you think your time is more important than everyone else and makes you look like a jerk. In the event that you are late, apologize to your colleagues as it lets them know that you are aware that you have wasted their time.

2) Keep your complaining to a minimum. Nothing is less attractive to your colleagues and those in power than someone who has a complaint about everything. Of course we want everything to be "perfect," but the reality is that sometimes things don't work out. Unless it is specifically your job, know that the tour manager will work out the issue and it's your job to be rested and prepared to perform. Also, people who tend to complain and complain tend not to get rehired. Don't let your constant complaining be the "audition aria" that keeps you from getting the job.

3) Remember why you are on the road. I sometimes see singers forget that the tour is a job and the expectation is that you deliver the expected product. We are singers first and everything else second. It's important to be rested, prepared and focused. If someone is paying you to sing, then the expectation is that you will sing (and sing well!)

4) On days off, do something fun. Tours can be grueling, so it's necessary to have some fun. Go to a movie, get a great meal, have a drink with your colleagues or lay in bed and watch TV, eat ice-cream and clip your toenails. Whatever it is that you enjoy.

5) Be grateful. If you are fortunate enough to get a job singing, remember to be grateful as there are hundreds of singers who would kill for this experience.

By following these simple rules, the national tour will be a fun, festive experience that keeps a smile on your smile and a song in your heart.

Peace,
Eric

What not to sing

One of my favorite television shows is "What Not to Wear." Show hosts Stacey London and Clinton Kelly secretly video tape unsuspecting folks in dire need of a makeover before ambushing them in public (along with the assistance of several friend and family) in order to let the person of questionable stylistic taste know that they need to throw out the old and embrace the new. Usually there are tears, fears and leers as the "project" surrenders to the rules, goes shopping for two days and gets a fresh new hair cut and make-up lesson from cohorts Nick Arrojo and Carmindy. By the end of the episode the poorly dressed has seen the error of their ways and is reformed into a stylista who is ready to show off their sparkling new look and attitude.

I began thinking what it would be like if there were a version of this for opera singers. Singers who are in need of an audition aria make over would hear why their current repertoire is unflattering and not presenting them in their best light. Like "What Not the Wear," I'm certain that the unsuspecting opera singer would resist kicking and screaming that what they offer is best for them and they don't need to change. The “experts” would listen to their offered five and give feedback on what was good about it and what "showed them up." After learning about the singer’s voice, the experts would introduce the rules (or things that the singer’s voice does well) and offer suggestions on what rep would really make their talents stand out. Of course, the opera singer would have to surrender their ego and listen and try out the new rep in order for the make over to be a complete success.

As I continue doing auditions, I realize that when you are doing the mainstage audition circuit, most of the voices are pretty good and it boils down to what a singer sings and how well they sing it. My early journey of discovering the right rep was not so easy. Often one “expert” would say this and another “expert” that and it all sounded very confusing. Thank goodness for the voice teacher and coach who knew my voice, but I still felt like I hadn’t unearthed what it was I did best (and could make me competitive.) That was until I found those five arias that I felt that I could sing at anytime of the day, anywhere and even if I felt less than perfect. I tried on many operatic arias, before finding the ones that fit.

While I would never place myself in the category of an “expert,” I think it’s always wise not to sing things that show what you can’t do versus what you can do. Why give the people listening the chance to notice that you don’t do the traditional float of a high note, that your coloratura is unclean or that you really don’t know the meaning of what you’re singing about? At the end of the day, those listening want to be dazzled. So it is our job to sing things (according to our particular vocal type and style) that give the best impression. Every aria we sing in an audition should be like our favorite outfits we wear: cute, comfortable, stylish and when people see (or hear it) they offer many complements.

We all need guidance and if we repeatedly hear that “what we are wearing” vocally isn’t suited to us, then it might be smart to go to an “expert” and get a real assessment so that when you walk into that audition, you have the best "suit" of arias. Instead of saying “Well, that wasn’t so hot.” They’ll say something to the equivalent of Stacy’s “Shut the front door!” as we show ourselves wearing our best vocal fit.

Peace,
Eric

Character Discovery

The opera world is filled with great traditions. From fabulous singers who redefined roles, to conductors who re-envisioned scores to composers who evolved the musical language of music theatre, there is a wealth of information available to an artist venturing on the formidable task of recreating a role.

As opera singers we are called upon to take these great works with their myriad of traditions and reinvent them for a modern audience. Of course our first step is to know the traditions so that we can honor the past and pick and choose what things to carry over into our performance. Often we get all the information from the past and try and integrate it into our current selves. The best performers are those who seem to easily meld the past with the present giving us a whole new future of a particular role.

I have been thinking about this quite a bit as I discover the role of Jake. This is my first Porgy and Bess and while I know the music so well that I am humming it all the time (literally all the time!) I am still discovering the "secrets" of the characters of Catfish Row. I am fortunate that this particular production affords the luxury of a long rehearsal period. I am also lucky that there are two singers for each Porgy and Bess and that the other singers range in experience from many productions of Porgy and Bess to novices like myself. Everyone brings their A-game, but it's also really fascinating to watch those who know "share their knowledge" and those who are just learning, discover.

Part of my process for the role of Jake has been creating relationships with the other characters. How does Jake feel about Porgy, Bess, Serena, Lily, Peter, Crown, Robbins etc...Just as I come up with a concrete idea, I find that it changes when another singer steps into that role. An example of this is when Jake pokes fun at Porgy about being attracted to Bess. With one Porgy, I find that his take on this ribbing runs very deep and it causes my character to feel quite remorseful. With another Porgy, I find that Jake takes on a less remorseful vibe and has more of a conflict with the members of Catfish Row who think his joking has gone too far. While these interactions are probably too small for the audience to pick up on, they help create a realism for me and the other actors and keeps me on my toes and in the moment.

Another interesting journey has been discovering the relationship of Jake and Clara and not only how they feel about each other, but what they mean to the neighbors of Catfish Row. I am very fortunate that both the Clara and Clara cover like creating a through line for this adorable husband and wife who are able to laugh and love while maintaining a deep bond.

It reminds me again of the great challenge of being an opera singer. Just as we practice and practice to get our voices to do the exact demands the composer wished for, we must also spend time to uncover the meanings of the text and the dramatic situation. Our ultimate goal is to create characters who are vocally and dramatically thorough. Of course the composers and librettists have given us many clues into the minds of these characters, but there are also great interpretations to be studied and learned from. Finally we have our own sensibilities that lead us down the road of discovery and closeness with the characters whom we inhabit for three to five hours. What an extraordinary profession we have, indeed!

Peace,
Eric