Ok, wow. When I said I wasn’t going to be blogging much this summer, I had no idea that I would go weeks without even a peep! I’ve had a couple of blog-related dreams this week, so maybe it’s time to check in. Rather than try to put the past month in any kind of order, it’s time for... you guessed it: bullet points! Maybe I’ll follow up with a Picture Pages post...
* It’s been a summer for blasts from the past. In Cleveland for my Symphony gig, I was reconnected with FD, with whom I first worked three years ago in Atlanta. Also in Cleveland, I recognized one of the flute players from my days at Tanglewood. It’s so cool to work with these top orchestras and discover colleagues who have won those fiercely competitive jobs. Congrats, SSC! Another blast (in more ways than one) has been working with TS here at Wolf Trap. I first met him in Santa Fe in 2006 where he directed my scene on the Apprentice program, my first encounter with Lucia... He’s been our director for Ariadne here, and his creativity and enthusiasm have been contagious. See below for more.
* The next blast from the past came a few weeks ago, in an email entitled “10 years ago.” GH, a fellow student at the University of Georgia, is now the director of a top choir in Texas. He was also one of the first people to encourage me to switch from education to performance, saying “I think you might just have something there.” We will catch each other up on the events of 1998-2008 when I sing with his group in December. How cool is that?
* Ariadne rehearsals are over; we open tomorrow night. You can see a bunch of pictures on Kim’s blog. You will see that my costume for the first act (The Prologue) is, well, a bit on the skimpy side at times. It has been my first experience with semi-nudity onstage, something I knew I’d face sooner or later, so I’ve been really happy to do it here, at a very supportive company with a great professional (read: mature) cast and a director I admire and trust. I was free at any time to draw the line, but this always felt like the “right” thing for the scene/character/world we’d all created onstage. But, in any case, I’m kind of glad my folks aren’t at this one... Wait until I’m naked in Germany and come make a vacation out of it!
* One more plug for TS: it was pretty wonderful to look out at the director’s table during rehearsals and see him smiling and laughing or intently focused on the drama. It felt great to have a director who was excited every day to make some magic! Before we started one of our final days of initial staging, he started rehearsal by saying, "I couldn't sleep last night 'cuz I was so excited to come stage this!" That, my friends, is what you want to meet when you come to work! It’s been a pleasure, TS; can’t wait to do it again.
* The biggest thing I’ve learned during this show, however, is that Zerbinetta is not in my cards. I’ve been trying on and off for an hour to try and sum up why, but I don’t think it’s a bullet point topic. I’ll try to get some thoughts down about our parting soon, but for now, it was a very amicable separation.
Some non-singing bullet points:
* New tunes I’ve been digging this summer: Chromeo, St. Vincent, She & Him (fantastic album), Fleet Foxes, Jason Mraz, Regina Spektor. (Many thanks to Maury for that last one; I, too, was late on the bandwagon...)
* The Olympics are awesome and all-consuming. But this is not news.
* I’m way behind on updating the blogroll, but for now, check out Sestissimo at Trying to Remain Opera-tional. She’s a great writer, and she’s about to travel to South America to sing Musetta in Boheme. Expect some great stories!
More soon. Well, soonish. But not three weeks, I promise!
Showing posts with label partners and colleagues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label partners and colleagues. Show all posts
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
The Dress
Remember that Badgley Mischka dress I’ve been talking about for about a year but never managed to get a picture of? Well, here you go!
Andy took this picture, and he told me to “work it;” hence the silly pose and sly smile. I don’t have on my lipstick yet, but you get the general idea. You can’t see the bottom of the skirt, but it’s a fishtail skirt with a small train. So lovely.
I knew months ago that I would wear this dress for these concerts; in fact, I bought the dress largely because of them (thanks, KG, for the tip!). To my mind, when I’m singing a non-religious concert with an orchestra, flashy is the way to go. Show a little skin, wear a bright color... be fun and flirty! When I asked the mezzo on the concert what she was wearing, she gave an answer that almost seemed like the punch line to a joke about the difference between sopranos and mezzos: “Oh, you know, I thought - orchestra concert, so something black, kind of simple.” hehe
She looked like a million bucks in her “simple” black velvet gown and sang a fantastic “I Hate Men.” With Andy and Nic in their tails and the actors in their basic black, I think we were all good representatives of our “types!”
Andy took this picture, and he told me to “work it;” hence the silly pose and sly smile. I don’t have on my lipstick yet, but you get the general idea. You can’t see the bottom of the skirt, but it’s a fishtail skirt with a small train. So lovely. I knew months ago that I would wear this dress for these concerts; in fact, I bought the dress largely because of them (thanks, KG, for the tip!). To my mind, when I’m singing a non-religious concert with an orchestra, flashy is the way to go. Show a little skin, wear a bright color... be fun and flirty! When I asked the mezzo on the concert what she was wearing, she gave an answer that almost seemed like the punch line to a joke about the difference between sopranos and mezzos: “Oh, you know, I thought - orchestra concert, so something black, kind of simple.” hehe
She looked like a million bucks in her “simple” black velvet gown and sang a fantastic “I Hate Men.” With Andy and Nic in their tails and the actors in their basic black, I think we were all good representatives of our “types!”
Monday, April 14, 2008
The scene
I'm late to get on the Hilary Hahn bandwagon, not for reasons that have anything to do with Ms. Hahn herself, but more with the fact that I listen to very little classical music on a regular basis. After spending a few days with Nick on tour in February, he encouraged me (by example, not with words) to listen to more (Bach, particularly), and I've picked up a few recordings, most notably one of Bach concerti. (The D Minor is my favorite; the saddest of all keys...) I've also enjoyed her writing on her website, candid and insightful and funny.
So I was thrilled to read a couple of things today that indicate she has "indie classical" tendencies! Steve Smith's review of her concert with Josh Ritter at The Other Met sounded like programming perfection: Erlkoenig paired with a modern folk song called "Oak Tree King." Fabulous. And then Feast of Music reported on Hahn's post-show show at DROM, a Lower East Side bar. How much fun would THAT have been? I'm definitely going to check out the next "classical" show at DROM, if only because it involves toy pianos.
In related news, I was devastated to miss the MATA festival a couple of weeks ago. It was wonderful to hear reports of successful (understatement) premieres and performances by friends and colleagues, people who I respect and admire. As I was hearing a run-down of one night's program, I felt like I was hearing about a party that my friends threw without me! I was equally so excited for the success of the Festival and of their music, and heart-broken not to be there celebrating with them. I love being part of this "scene," even cursorily as I seem to be right now. I am honored to call these musicians my friends, and to dream about future collaborations. For more on that, check out the New Amsterdam Records site and see how the community is growing. Join up, even! All are welcome.
I guess now would be the perfect time to remind those of you in the NYC area that the revised version of Hillula will premiere on April 29th as part of the Princeton Composers Ensemble, 8pm in Taplin Auditorium on the Princeton campus. Excited doesn't begin to express how we feel about this...
So I was thrilled to read a couple of things today that indicate she has "indie classical" tendencies! Steve Smith's review of her concert with Josh Ritter at The Other Met sounded like programming perfection: Erlkoenig paired with a modern folk song called "Oak Tree King." Fabulous. And then Feast of Music reported on Hahn's post-show show at DROM, a Lower East Side bar. How much fun would THAT have been? I'm definitely going to check out the next "classical" show at DROM, if only because it involves toy pianos.
In related news, I was devastated to miss the MATA festival a couple of weeks ago. It was wonderful to hear reports of successful (understatement) premieres and performances by friends and colleagues, people who I respect and admire. As I was hearing a run-down of one night's program, I felt like I was hearing about a party that my friends threw without me! I was equally so excited for the success of the Festival and of their music, and heart-broken not to be there celebrating with them. I love being part of this "scene," even cursorily as I seem to be right now. I am honored to call these musicians my friends, and to dream about future collaborations. For more on that, check out the New Amsterdam Records site and see how the community is growing. Join up, even! All are welcome.
I guess now would be the perfect time to remind those of you in the NYC area that the revised version of Hillula will premiere on April 29th as part of the Princeton Composers Ensemble, 8pm in Taplin Auditorium on the Princeton campus. Excited doesn't begin to express how we feel about this...
Monday, March 31, 2008
Still Life
For the past few years, I’ve been creating little shrines at my dressing station every opening night, built up of all the cards and trinkets and candies that appear from colleagues throughout the evening. To be brutally honest, my expectations were low for this show, considering that almost the entire cast is male, and, well, guys aren’t generally known for their collection of cute stationary. So imagine my joy - and shamefaced-ness!! - when I walked into my dressing room to find that almost everyone had not only placed a card on my table, but had gotten their cards out even earlier than mine! Opening night calls should really be about half an hour earlier than other nights, since we spend time running from room to room, handing out goodies and hugs and spitting over each other’s shoulders to keep the devil away.Included in this photo: more chocolate than I can eat in a month; Rosina’s last-act hair ornament; the perfect lipstick & pencil combination (for stage, anyway), as paired by Tom, my awesome makeup guy here; a new Moleskine; a rose-scented candle (my gift to my cast - and one for me!); the envelope to the Mo’s card, which is labeled with a transcription of the sweet moment when Figaro and Rosina spell her name; and what will likely be the first in my collection of kaleidoscopes, a gift from someone very special. Oh, and a cigar from JR, which was dutifully enjoyed post-show with the cast. An embarrassment of riches...
It’s a reflection, really, of the chemistry of this cast, both on and offstage. We have had such a great time! Tonight we’re meeting at a local piano bar for some karaoke, a fact which we should maybe keep quiet, as opera singers tend to be either “too good” or spectacularly bad at karaoke… It’s going to be an awesome night!
Opening night was pretty awesome, too, and felt like a real triumph. About ten minutes before curtain, I was almost overwhelmed by nerves, including that very rare voice trying to convince myself that I wasn’t ready, that I was going to fail. That was a scary moment, one I’m not really used to. I sought out MB, a castmate for both this debut and last month’s Susanna, and asked for a hug and a pep talk. His calm joyful energy helped, and the butterflies and fear gave way to excitement. The night got off to a great start, with a wonderful energy in the house and light-hearted interactions between us onstage. As we entered the final chorus at the end of Act II, I think I did a little hop of joy, so happy to have made it through!
I felt like the dress rehearsal was at about 85% of what I wanted to accomplish with the role, and opening night felt like a 95. Pretty damn good, but room to grow! There were some fun moments of discovery onstage, musical and dramatic, and new things were happening (in the best way), so I am excited to see how this character will continue to develop this week.
Tomorrow night we have a donor event, and then I think I might make a midnight trek into the woods to watch the spotted salamanders mating… stay tuned!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Full steam ahead
Dear friends:
The show’s going well in Dayton. The Figaro is so dreamy, I just can’t stand it! This is the best Figaro EVER and did I mention that the Figaro is really good?!?
Ok, so the above paragraph was dictated by Andrew Garland, my fabulous Figaro here in Dayton. (I’ve been lucky enough to have back-to-back fabulous Figaro’s!) We are all here at “our coffeeshop,” on a break after a very useful rehearsal in which we all ran through our recitatives, working to get the flow going and to get past the “what words and notes am I supposed to sing here?” stage to “let’s communicate and tell a story here!”
I have to say, the hardest part of learning this role in two months has been really getting the language into my head, getting past the long-vowels and double-consonants stage. With Susanna, I carried around those papers with my texts on them for weeks - months, even - until I knew my lines forward and back. It’s been a bit of cram this time around… I finally had to just let go of the thinking and jump to the feeling. Once I put my book or my cheat sheets down, I’m free to really connect with my colleagues on-stage, to find the natural connection of one line to the next, rather than just trying to remember what comes next!
I’m also still building the character - who is Rosina? I’m going to write a post exclusively on this topic to cross post over on the DO blog, but I will say here that it has been a real challenge to get Mozart’s Countess out of my mind. (The Countess in Nozze is Rosina, five years or so after the events of Barber take place…) The way we have the finale of Barber staged, there is even a moment of staging that is a “flash forward” to a moment in Nozze; I find the (unintentional) symmetry beautiful.
Today: an afternoon working session, hitting on some things in Act I that need finesse, and then tonight we “stumble through” the show. A day off tomorrow, then another stumble through on Saturday morning and the Sitz Saturday afternoon. I can not wait to get with the orchestra for this one!
A teaser: by the end of the 08-09 season, I will have repeated a role!! Boy, am I ever looking forward to that experience...
The show’s going well in Dayton. The Figaro is so dreamy, I just can’t stand it! This is the best Figaro EVER and did I mention that the Figaro is really good?!?
Ok, so the above paragraph was dictated by Andrew Garland, my fabulous Figaro here in Dayton. (I’ve been lucky enough to have back-to-back fabulous Figaro’s!) We are all here at “our coffeeshop,” on a break after a very useful rehearsal in which we all ran through our recitatives, working to get the flow going and to get past the “what words and notes am I supposed to sing here?” stage to “let’s communicate and tell a story here!”
I have to say, the hardest part of learning this role in two months has been really getting the language into my head, getting past the long-vowels and double-consonants stage. With Susanna, I carried around those papers with my texts on them for weeks - months, even - until I knew my lines forward and back. It’s been a bit of cram this time around… I finally had to just let go of the thinking and jump to the feeling. Once I put my book or my cheat sheets down, I’m free to really connect with my colleagues on-stage, to find the natural connection of one line to the next, rather than just trying to remember what comes next!
I’m also still building the character - who is Rosina? I’m going to write a post exclusively on this topic to cross post over on the DO blog, but I will say here that it has been a real challenge to get Mozart’s Countess out of my mind. (The Countess in Nozze is Rosina, five years or so after the events of Barber take place…) The way we have the finale of Barber staged, there is even a moment of staging that is a “flash forward” to a moment in Nozze; I find the (unintentional) symmetry beautiful.
Today: an afternoon working session, hitting on some things in Act I that need finesse, and then tonight we “stumble through” the show. A day off tomorrow, then another stumble through on Saturday morning and the Sitz Saturday afternoon. I can not wait to get with the orchestra for this one!
A teaser: by the end of the 08-09 season, I will have repeated a role!! Boy, am I ever looking forward to that experience...
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Let's start at the very beginning
I've been asked to contribute to the Dayton Opera Artists' blog, and what follows is my first post. It was interesting to write a "get-to-know-you piece," of a sorts, rather than just building on my established relationship with the the blogosphere... I hope I found a good balance, and hopefully I'll introduce a few new folks to the glory of the opera blog world!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Rehearsals have begun! Today we started getting Barber up on its feet, yet we spent nine hours together before we started the staging process.
The first three were spent in “table talk,” a conversation led by our director, Gary Briggle, which took us through topics like characters relationships, what sort of story we’re hoping to tell; and how exactly we hope to tell that story. For my character, Rosina, this led to questions like “How did she come to be the ward of Don Bartolo?” and “What is her friendship with Figaro like?” and “How does her attraction to and intention for the Count change over the course of the opera?” This is the sort of conversation and work that is crucial to good honest story-telling on-stage, but due to short rehearsal periods, it is so often skipped over. What a joy to start off with this level of detail work! It felt so indulgent! It was also a great way for us all to get to know each other a bit before we started the business of being friends and adversaries and lovers on stage.
Another thing Gary asked each of us was how we are hoping to define a success in our work here with this production. What a wonderful question! I am the only member of the principal cast who is performing their role for the first time, so my idea of “success” has everything to do with the music. There are so many notes, and so many ornamentations and fancy outbursts (often called “cadenzas”) that are “traditional” or “stylistic,” and, frankly, they are a bit intimidating! I will feel that I have given a successful interpretation of Rosina if every one of those cadenzas is inspired by the emotion Rosina feels at the moment or is motivated by the action she is carrying out. I am looking forward to discovering the emotions and motivations behind all of those little black dots...
And speaking of little black dots, the other six hours were spent in music rehearsals with our “maestro,” Neil Gittleman. In a masterful example of efficient time management, we worked our way through the entire opera in two rehearsals! With an opera like Barber in which there is a vast history of “performance practice,” it is so important to take the time to make sure the singers and the conductor are on the same page: what ornament are you singing here? what tempo do we want there? how do we get from here to there? what cuts are we doing? We found a lot of answers and established a great foundation that we can build on as we work through staging.
For me, singing all this with colleagues for the first time, it was a great opportunity to see which spots need a bit more attention! As would be expected, there are a handful of moments when Rosina and Almaviva sing very intricate lines together, expressing their excitement and desire for each other. It was so fun - and a little terrifying! - to sing those with John, hearing the potential for an absolutely thrilling musical experience. Everyone is being very supportive and patient with me as I work out my routines. They all sang their roles for the first time once, too, so everyone understands my nerves!
As rehearsals progress, these moments that are new will become familiar, nerves will give way to excitement and fear to joy! Stay tuned…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Rehearsals have begun! Today we started getting Barber up on its feet, yet we spent nine hours together before we started the staging process.
The first three were spent in “table talk,” a conversation led by our director, Gary Briggle, which took us through topics like characters relationships, what sort of story we’re hoping to tell; and how exactly we hope to tell that story. For my character, Rosina, this led to questions like “How did she come to be the ward of Don Bartolo?” and “What is her friendship with Figaro like?” and “How does her attraction to and intention for the Count change over the course of the opera?” This is the sort of conversation and work that is crucial to good honest story-telling on-stage, but due to short rehearsal periods, it is so often skipped over. What a joy to start off with this level of detail work! It felt so indulgent! It was also a great way for us all to get to know each other a bit before we started the business of being friends and adversaries and lovers on stage.
Another thing Gary asked each of us was how we are hoping to define a success in our work here with this production. What a wonderful question! I am the only member of the principal cast who is performing their role for the first time, so my idea of “success” has everything to do with the music. There are so many notes, and so many ornamentations and fancy outbursts (often called “cadenzas”) that are “traditional” or “stylistic,” and, frankly, they are a bit intimidating! I will feel that I have given a successful interpretation of Rosina if every one of those cadenzas is inspired by the emotion Rosina feels at the moment or is motivated by the action she is carrying out. I am looking forward to discovering the emotions and motivations behind all of those little black dots...
And speaking of little black dots, the other six hours were spent in music rehearsals with our “maestro,” Neil Gittleman. In a masterful example of efficient time management, we worked our way through the entire opera in two rehearsals! With an opera like Barber in which there is a vast history of “performance practice,” it is so important to take the time to make sure the singers and the conductor are on the same page: what ornament are you singing here? what tempo do we want there? how do we get from here to there? what cuts are we doing? We found a lot of answers and established a great foundation that we can build on as we work through staging.
For me, singing all this with colleagues for the first time, it was a great opportunity to see which spots need a bit more attention! As would be expected, there are a handful of moments when Rosina and Almaviva sing very intricate lines together, expressing their excitement and desire for each other. It was so fun - and a little terrifying! - to sing those with John, hearing the potential for an absolutely thrilling musical experience. Everyone is being very supportive and patient with me as I work out my routines. They all sang their roles for the first time once, too, so everyone understands my nerves!
As rehearsals progress, these moments that are new will become familiar, nerves will give way to excitement and fear to joy! Stay tuned…
Sunday, February 17, 2008
New Day
Up before the sun again, this time to pack up and leave this TH behind. I will miss my little blue room, the coffee ritual that emerged here, the lake and its ice-fishermen, the cozy couch by the fireplace, and my lovely hostess NP.
Two performances of Le Nozze di Figaro, back to back. I made it!! I had an absolute ball, learned so much, and am so grateful. I will miss my cast and our special moments on and off stage... Here is a review from the local paper; thanks to Sid, Patti, and BD for sending it along. You can be sure I will write more about the “uncooperative veil!” What he doesn’t mention is that it happened twice, and that the second instance came about because I took a banana-peel-style slip and the darn thing just flew off! Details to follow…
For now, I’m packing up my car and headed back over to Ann Arbor to record with Nick! It’s so fun to go into a rather daunting job knowing that I will have a friend there to lean on! And to hug! Other folks are involved, too, of course, including some folk singer folks. I feel bad that I haven’t talked about this project much here; hopefully I’ll get a few words down in the next couple of days.
Thanks for all your sweet words and thoughts and wishes. More soon; stay tuned!!
Two performances of Le Nozze di Figaro, back to back. I made it!! I had an absolute ball, learned so much, and am so grateful. I will miss my cast and our special moments on and off stage... Here is a review from the local paper; thanks to Sid, Patti, and BD for sending it along. You can be sure I will write more about the “uncooperative veil!” What he doesn’t mention is that it happened twice, and that the second instance came about because I took a banana-peel-style slip and the darn thing just flew off! Details to follow…
For now, I’m packing up my car and headed back over to Ann Arbor to record with Nick! It’s so fun to go into a rather daunting job knowing that I will have a friend there to lean on! And to hug! Other folks are involved, too, of course, including some folk singer folks. I feel bad that I haven’t talked about this project much here; hopefully I’ll get a few words down in the next couple of days.
Thanks for all your sweet words and thoughts and wishes. More soon; stay tuned!!
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Notes on Rehearsal
* Clothes make the maid: About thirty minutes into rehearsal on Saturday, I noticed that my stance and my walk were very “un-Susanna.” They were very modern; sassy, and not in the quick-witted-maid sense. I quickly figured out that is was due in large part to the fact that I had forgotten to put on my rehearsal skirt. I had never really paid much attention to the importance of a rehearsal skirt, preferring to inhabit the character without the aid of costumes and such. But when wearing my favorite black skinny jeans, the ones that really make me feel like a rock star, I just couldn’t seem to shake the “attitude” they give me. After putting on the full white tea-length rehearsal skirt, however, Susanna’s stance was back: weight evenly on both feet, posture firm but subservient. Even my interactions with Figaro were more “period appropriate,” less modern. Boleslawski wouldn’t like it, but I apparently need my rehearsal skirt in order to be Susanna.
* Fixin’ Diction: We don’t have a prompter or Italian coach here, so it’s up to us to come to agreements on things like how to navigate notes with more than one vowel sound. Our maestro helps, of course, but sometimes we can fix it ourselves, even without talking. (I’m not sure I can really explain this in words; it might be a “you had to be there” moment, but I’ll try…)
In the Act II Finale, there is a moment when Figaro, Susanna, and the Countess say together “how will this end?” - “com’ha da finir?” There are rests between the words, so it’s kind of like this: “com / / ha / / da / / finir” The first time we sang it (in a staging rehearsal), Figaro and I noticed that we were putting the M at the end of “com” in different places: I before the rests and he after. We sing the line twice; the first time we exchanged a look that said, “Wait, did you just…?” The second time, the look was “Oh yes, you did; we’d better fix that!” But when we paused, we got busy with staging stuff and didn’t get a chance to discuss it.
I did check in with our Countess, though, to see what she was singing. She was with me, putting the M on the end of “com,” and we were fairly confident that we were right. (Of course! FG, care to verify?) We ran the scene again, and when we got to that line, Figaro gave me a look: “Oh, we didn’t fix this!” My look back said, “I did!” The repeat of the line came and we both turned to the Countess, who pronounced the line together with me. Still singing, Figaro snapped his fingers and gave us a look that said, “Rats! Outnumbered!” and we all carried on, smiling.
It was really a sweet moment of nonverbal communication and collaboration, one that wouldn’t have been possible if we weren’t enjoying working together so much. This is a great cast, and we’re all having a ball. A bit of a stressed ball, but a ball nonetheless.
* Flashbacks: When we got together in NYC and ran through things (Count, Countess, Figaro, and I), singing through the Act IV Finale brought back some beautiful memories. First, the bittersweet moments as Barbarina, saying goodbye to Cherubino during “Tutti contenti…” (In the Met's Miller staging, Barbarina and Cherubino don’t end up together.) But then, when the music shifted to the upbeat final section - “In contenti e in allegria” - I was suddenly transported to the woods of Vienna, VA, where we used that music as the opening to our Instant Opera programs! I never had this flashback during the Figaro’s at the Met, though, because there I was singing Barbarina’s line, and at Wolf Trap I sang Susanna’s! It was a wonderful stroll down memory lane.
There was another flashback tonight, when I overheard our Barbarina singing her aria. That will be a special aria for me for a long time, I think. I was taken back to the dimly lit stage, to the warm lights coming from the orchestra pit, seeing Mo. Jordan on the podium and the beautiful Met house behind him, hearing Bryn’s quiet “Barbarina, cos’hai?” My opera career is just beginning, so I know these moments of “flashback” are going to start overlapping, running together as I do repeated productions. Yet I can’t help but think that those moments, those sweet, dream-like moments of late 2007, will always be special.
* Fixin’ Diction: We don’t have a prompter or Italian coach here, so it’s up to us to come to agreements on things like how to navigate notes with more than one vowel sound. Our maestro helps, of course, but sometimes we can fix it ourselves, even without talking. (I’m not sure I can really explain this in words; it might be a “you had to be there” moment, but I’ll try…)
In the Act II Finale, there is a moment when Figaro, Susanna, and the Countess say together “how will this end?” - “com’ha da finir?” There are rests between the words, so it’s kind of like this: “com / / ha / / da / / finir” The first time we sang it (in a staging rehearsal), Figaro and I noticed that we were putting the M at the end of “com” in different places: I before the rests and he after. We sing the line twice; the first time we exchanged a look that said, “Wait, did you just…?” The second time, the look was “Oh yes, you did; we’d better fix that!” But when we paused, we got busy with staging stuff and didn’t get a chance to discuss it.
I did check in with our Countess, though, to see what she was singing. She was with me, putting the M on the end of “com,” and we were fairly confident that we were right. (Of course! FG, care to verify?) We ran the scene again, and when we got to that line, Figaro gave me a look: “Oh, we didn’t fix this!” My look back said, “I did!” The repeat of the line came and we both turned to the Countess, who pronounced the line together with me. Still singing, Figaro snapped his fingers and gave us a look that said, “Rats! Outnumbered!” and we all carried on, smiling.
It was really a sweet moment of nonverbal communication and collaboration, one that wouldn’t have been possible if we weren’t enjoying working together so much. This is a great cast, and we’re all having a ball. A bit of a stressed ball, but a ball nonetheless.
* Flashbacks: When we got together in NYC and ran through things (Count, Countess, Figaro, and I), singing through the Act IV Finale brought back some beautiful memories. First, the bittersweet moments as Barbarina, saying goodbye to Cherubino during “Tutti contenti…” (In the Met's Miller staging, Barbarina and Cherubino don’t end up together.) But then, when the music shifted to the upbeat final section - “In contenti e in allegria” - I was suddenly transported to the woods of Vienna, VA, where we used that music as the opening to our Instant Opera programs! I never had this flashback during the Figaro’s at the Met, though, because there I was singing Barbarina’s line, and at Wolf Trap I sang Susanna’s! It was a wonderful stroll down memory lane.
There was another flashback tonight, when I overheard our Barbarina singing her aria. That will be a special aria for me for a long time, I think. I was taken back to the dimly lit stage, to the warm lights coming from the orchestra pit, seeing Mo. Jordan on the podium and the beautiful Met house behind him, hearing Bryn’s quiet “Barbarina, cos’hai?” My opera career is just beginning, so I know these moments of “flashback” are going to start overlapping, running together as I do repeated productions. Yet I can’t help but think that those moments, those sweet, dream-like moments of late 2007, will always be special.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Shake Up, and Shakin’ It
Via Chris at CPB, because I read Bloglines before I read my Sunday Times, this article about “audience practice” over the years. (How did that grammar error in the first sentence make the final draft?!) My favorite paragraph: “Another time, late on a Spanish evening many years ago, I heard a village band competition at the bullring in Valencia. The playing was astonishing, and as a particular performance gradually took hold of the audience, low hums of approval would grow into something approaching wordless roars. It was the most profound concert experience of my life.”
This fueled a post I’ve been building for a while about the “indie classical” movement and what exactly we’re trying to shake up here. Folks like the admins and performers at New Amsterdam Records, composers like Nico Muhly and Caleb Burhans, bands like Secret Society, Alarm Will Sound, Brooklyn Rider, and Ljova and the Vjola Contraband: I think all of these musicians have “shake up” as part of their mission statement. Heck, I'd even add Andrew Bird to that list. Secret Society is a “steampunk big bang” and Vjola Contraband is “chamber-jam music for the "remix generation".” Brooklyn Rider says they want to “invite audiences into a greater shared dialogue.” Liszt seemed to have a similar mindset: “When Liszt did his solo acts, there was none of the march-on, march-off stage ritual of today. Liszt greeted patrons at the door, mingled in the audience and schmoozed with friend and stranger alike.”
So what are we trying to change?
Last weekend, TM was here for the CMA conference and we took in a few other sites and sounds around town. Friday, I watched the second half of the CMA opening concert; I heard three works/groups/performances and had three very different reactions. The first was piano trio by Leon Kirschner. A piano trio is already a very traditional ensemble (piano, violin, cello), and the young ladies playing the work sat in the usual set-up and wore very traditional attire. A little too traditional, if you know me, which you do: floor-length, jewel-toned satin gowns, each a different style and color but obviously very coordinated. The women looked beautiful, and they played even more beautifully, but it was just a bit… I don’t know. Safe? Done? It wasn’t boring, because the music took care of that. But how could it have been “newer?” Does it matter? The work was written in 1998, but if I’d just been watching and not listening I would have assumed it was from 1898. How can performance practice reflect the music? Should it? Does it matter?! It obviously matters to me, ‘cuz I can’t stop thinking about it...
The second piece was the first part of Pierrot Lunaire, performed by eighth blackbird and Lucy Shelton, who I adore. This performance rocked. First of all, it was from memory, which freed up the performers to move and to interact with each other. I loved it. They were all over the place: kneeling, changing positions to play with each other as the ensemble changed, turning their backs to the audience. It was a lot, but it never felt “busy.” Their movements never felt affected or showy because their attitude was one of ease. This was simply their performance, their gift to the audience, and they weren’t wasting energy worrying about how it was going to “go over.” They were being, not doing. And even with no “doing,” or rather, because there was no “doing,” there was a long, breathless pause after the final movement, as the audience slowly freed itself from the spell the performers had cast. It was magical.
The final performance of the night was by So Percussion, whom I have loved since I saw them last year at the Whitney Museum. Four guys, each with his own style, comfortable, casual. Their performance of Reich’s “Music for Pieces of Wood” absolutely blew. my. mind. It was the most visceral reaction I’ve had to a performance in a long time: my palms were sweaty, my heart raced. Was it the performance? The piece itself? The perfurme of the woman next to me? Who knows. But they got something right. I was again under a spell. When I saw them at the restaurant after the performance, I went to say hello and thank them; I felt like a girl talking to her high school crush…
That’s how I want an audience to feel. Know what I mean? Excited, turned on, drawn in, breathless… not unlike the feeling I had seeing The Shins or The New Pornographers, now that I think about it. Or Die Walkure...
So, what about a “recital” at a place like Webster Hall? How would I feel, as a performer, if people were coming and going, drinking beers (spilling beers), talking on their cell phones, etc.. How much is a rock band aware of that stuff? They are up on stage, removed, listening to their monitors, maybe unaware of most of the activity beyond the footlights. Is amplification the key? Things are loud enough that the audience doesn’t have to sit quietly, afraid to talk for fear of missing something, and the band can tune out what they don’t want to see/hear/know. Is it a respect thing? Why do we respect classical concerts (showing it by sitting still and being quiet and clapping where “appropriate”) more than rock concerts?
CT the DT tells of a performance of a jazz group (I can’t remember who, a pianist-led group, I think) where, at the end, when people started clapping, the pianist looked up and seemed to be almost surprised to see that audience there. The band had been so into the music, into working together, that they had almost forgetton about the “performance.” Is this good? Part of me says yes, that it can be just about the music, but then part of me wonders if it is disrespectful to the audience to “forget” about them. How does the performers’ relation to the audience affect the overall feeling of the performance? How can performers focus on “being” and still give the audience a show worth the price of admission (or more).
Man, the more I write, the more questions I come up with.
TM and I also saw a concert at ICO Music (formerly VIM: Tribeca). There were several elements that indicated “we’re trying to shake things up here:” the venue, free booze, the dress of the performers. And yet. As TM said, it was still musicians with stands and an audience that sat quietly until it was ok to clap. So what are we shaking up here? How can we do more? What will we sacrifice? What will we gain?
This fueled a post I’ve been building for a while about the “indie classical” movement and what exactly we’re trying to shake up here. Folks like the admins and performers at New Amsterdam Records, composers like Nico Muhly and Caleb Burhans, bands like Secret Society, Alarm Will Sound, Brooklyn Rider, and Ljova and the Vjola Contraband: I think all of these musicians have “shake up” as part of their mission statement. Heck, I'd even add Andrew Bird to that list. Secret Society is a “steampunk big bang” and Vjola Contraband is “chamber-jam music for the "remix generation".” Brooklyn Rider says they want to “invite audiences into a greater shared dialogue.” Liszt seemed to have a similar mindset: “When Liszt did his solo acts, there was none of the march-on, march-off stage ritual of today. Liszt greeted patrons at the door, mingled in the audience and schmoozed with friend and stranger alike.”
So what are we trying to change?
Last weekend, TM was here for the CMA conference and we took in a few other sites and sounds around town. Friday, I watched the second half of the CMA opening concert; I heard three works/groups/performances and had three very different reactions. The first was piano trio by Leon Kirschner. A piano trio is already a very traditional ensemble (piano, violin, cello), and the young ladies playing the work sat in the usual set-up and wore very traditional attire. A little too traditional, if you know me, which you do: floor-length, jewel-toned satin gowns, each a different style and color but obviously very coordinated. The women looked beautiful, and they played even more beautifully, but it was just a bit… I don’t know. Safe? Done? It wasn’t boring, because the music took care of that. But how could it have been “newer?” Does it matter? The work was written in 1998, but if I’d just been watching and not listening I would have assumed it was from 1898. How can performance practice reflect the music? Should it? Does it matter?! It obviously matters to me, ‘cuz I can’t stop thinking about it...
The second piece was the first part of Pierrot Lunaire, performed by eighth blackbird and Lucy Shelton, who I adore. This performance rocked. First of all, it was from memory, which freed up the performers to move and to interact with each other. I loved it. They were all over the place: kneeling, changing positions to play with each other as the ensemble changed, turning their backs to the audience. It was a lot, but it never felt “busy.” Their movements never felt affected or showy because their attitude was one of ease. This was simply their performance, their gift to the audience, and they weren’t wasting energy worrying about how it was going to “go over.” They were being, not doing. And even with no “doing,” or rather, because there was no “doing,” there was a long, breathless pause after the final movement, as the audience slowly freed itself from the spell the performers had cast. It was magical.
The final performance of the night was by So Percussion, whom I have loved since I saw them last year at the Whitney Museum. Four guys, each with his own style, comfortable, casual. Their performance of Reich’s “Music for Pieces of Wood” absolutely blew. my. mind. It was the most visceral reaction I’ve had to a performance in a long time: my palms were sweaty, my heart raced. Was it the performance? The piece itself? The perfurme of the woman next to me? Who knows. But they got something right. I was again under a spell. When I saw them at the restaurant after the performance, I went to say hello and thank them; I felt like a girl talking to her high school crush…
That’s how I want an audience to feel. Know what I mean? Excited, turned on, drawn in, breathless… not unlike the feeling I had seeing The Shins or The New Pornographers, now that I think about it. Or Die Walkure...
So, what about a “recital” at a place like Webster Hall? How would I feel, as a performer, if people were coming and going, drinking beers (spilling beers), talking on their cell phones, etc.. How much is a rock band aware of that stuff? They are up on stage, removed, listening to their monitors, maybe unaware of most of the activity beyond the footlights. Is amplification the key? Things are loud enough that the audience doesn’t have to sit quietly, afraid to talk for fear of missing something, and the band can tune out what they don’t want to see/hear/know. Is it a respect thing? Why do we respect classical concerts (showing it by sitting still and being quiet and clapping where “appropriate”) more than rock concerts?
CT the DT tells of a performance of a jazz group (I can’t remember who, a pianist-led group, I think) where, at the end, when people started clapping, the pianist looked up and seemed to be almost surprised to see that audience there. The band had been so into the music, into working together, that they had almost forgetton about the “performance.” Is this good? Part of me says yes, that it can be just about the music, but then part of me wonders if it is disrespectful to the audience to “forget” about them. How does the performers’ relation to the audience affect the overall feeling of the performance? How can performers focus on “being” and still give the audience a show worth the price of admission (or more).
Man, the more I write, the more questions I come up with.
TM and I also saw a concert at ICO Music (formerly VIM: Tribeca). There were several elements that indicated “we’re trying to shake things up here:” the venue, free booze, the dress of the performers. And yet. As TM said, it was still musicians with stands and an audience that sat quietly until it was ok to clap. So what are we shaking up here? How can we do more? What will we sacrifice? What will we gain?
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Miscellany for January 8
So much on my mind these days; time for bullet points!
* 2008 is, as of now, booked withfive six new roles (four five Leading, one Featured) so far, with three one more major role possibility (two Leading, one Featured) on the table. Gulp. As contracts get signed, I’ll post details here (and on my website, as soon as I get an ftp client for my Mac…). **UPDATE: I just got a call from my manager, and it seems a new hat has been thrown in the ring! I've been asked to come take over for a cancelled singer. For a huge role. In March. Double gulp!!
* Nothing like the best seat in the house to make one a Wagner fan. I experienced my first Wagner opera last night, Die Walkure, and I think I’ve been changed. I was nervous about making it through a five-hour evening (four hours of music plus two intermissions), but when the curtain closed on our sleeping Brunnhilde, I immediately wanted to watch the next one! Talk about a cliff-hanger… I had a beautiful view of the pit, too, and was blown away by the musicality that poured out. The English horn solos, especially, were so beautiful (I thought of you, Patti!), and what can I saw about all that brass? Awesome. I know I’ll never sing anything (maybe the Forest Bird, and wouldn’t that be poetic?), but I will be an appreciative audience member for the rest of my life. Many many thanks to my hosts for a wonderful evening.
* The growth of the “indie classical” movement continues on apace with the launch of New Amsterdam Records' new website. Streaming tracks from all of their current releases and creating a “join the community” feel by allowing anyone to create a profile, the site includes concert listings, blog postings, and, of course, an online store. It’s not a requirement that you be a NAR artist to post your information, so this will hopefully become a central “meeting ground” of sorts for musicians involved in this development of concert music.
I encourage you to spend some time letting the site’s music player run on shuffle for a while; you’ll get a nice cross-section of the music that is pushing this movement. (JL, I think you will especially enjoy Sam Sadigursky’s The Words Project.)
* I was motivated by the invitation to join the NAR site to finally get the tracks from the May 07 Bhakti recital cleaned up. You can hear a couple of them on my NAR page (Bolcom’s “Waitin” and Barber’s “St. Ita's Vision”), along with a more “traditionally new music-y” song from my stint at Tanglewood in 2004, Grace Choi’s “hist wist.” I’ve also updated my MySpace page tracks, including “Waitin” and adding a Harbison tune, “Why Mira can't go back to her old house.”
(The recording of Hillula, the centerpiece of the recital, is very good, but not ready for public consumption. It reminded the three of us how much we loved the piece, though, and has spurred us on for the next phase: revisions and 2nd recital plans are underway!)
That’s all for now. More thoughts on said “indie classical movement” coming soon…
* 2008 is, as of now, booked with
* Nothing like the best seat in the house to make one a Wagner fan. I experienced my first Wagner opera last night, Die Walkure, and I think I’ve been changed. I was nervous about making it through a five-hour evening (four hours of music plus two intermissions), but when the curtain closed on our sleeping Brunnhilde, I immediately wanted to watch the next one! Talk about a cliff-hanger… I had a beautiful view of the pit, too, and was blown away by the musicality that poured out. The English horn solos, especially, were so beautiful (I thought of you, Patti!), and what can I saw about all that brass? Awesome. I know I’ll never sing anything (maybe the Forest Bird, and wouldn’t that be poetic?), but I will be an appreciative audience member for the rest of my life. Many many thanks to my hosts for a wonderful evening.
* The growth of the “indie classical” movement continues on apace with the launch of New Amsterdam Records' new website. Streaming tracks from all of their current releases and creating a “join the community” feel by allowing anyone to create a profile, the site includes concert listings, blog postings, and, of course, an online store. It’s not a requirement that you be a NAR artist to post your information, so this will hopefully become a central “meeting ground” of sorts for musicians involved in this development of concert music.
I encourage you to spend some time letting the site’s music player run on shuffle for a while; you’ll get a nice cross-section of the music that is pushing this movement. (JL, I think you will especially enjoy Sam Sadigursky’s The Words Project.)
* I was motivated by the invitation to join the NAR site to finally get the tracks from the May 07 Bhakti recital cleaned up. You can hear a couple of them on my NAR page (Bolcom’s “Waitin” and Barber’s “St. Ita's Vision”), along with a more “traditionally new music-y” song from my stint at Tanglewood in 2004, Grace Choi’s “hist wist.” I’ve also updated my MySpace page tracks, including “Waitin” and adding a Harbison tune, “Why Mira can't go back to her old house.”
(The recording of Hillula, the centerpiece of the recital, is very good, but not ready for public consumption. It reminded the three of us how much we loved the piece, though, and has spurred us on for the next phase: revisions and 2nd recital plans are underway!)
That’s all for now. More thoughts on said “indie classical movement” coming soon…
Saturday, December 15, 2007
A pickup opera
Tonight I took a study break and headed to the Upper West Side to hear some friends in a concert of Bach Advent cantatas, and boy, am I glad!
I loved walking through the cold night, reciting lines of recit in my head (and sometimes out loud). I loved seeing people, young and old, on their way to holiday parties, dressed to the nines. I loved walking past the Met and knowing that I would be home again before I was even officially on-call for tonight’s performance of War & Peace! (My character doesn’t come on until about 10:45...) And, of course, I loved hearing Bach, my first musical love, I think. I sang several Bach cantatas in grad school, and those performances are still among my favorites. I think If I had another musical life to live, I would play the Baroque trumpet. Man, do they get some great music! I heard some fantastic singing as well, and ran into several friends-of-friends. But what happened at the reception is the real reason I’m glad I went.
I saw “my Figaro,” MB, at intermission, and we talked a bit with DN (with whom I often coach) and our mutual friends; it came up at this point that we would be singing together in February. At the reception, I mentioned to DN that I would be calling him to set up weekly “Susanna run sessions*” for the next few weeks, and he said, “Oh, MB should come, too; we’ll set up a cast and work through the whole opera. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Um, YES!
He said he’d send out an email tonight and try to round folks up; we think the Count and Countess from our cast will also be in NYC in January. DN will work his connections to try to fill the rest of the parts, and voila! We’ll have a cast! If it works according to plan, we’ll meet a few times, maybe once per act, and just run it. I was already planning to rope some friends into coming to coachings with me to work on recits and duets, and this is just the next best thing. I’m very excited!
It’s 10:45, so I’m officially “off the clock” for the night. Time for a glass of wine and some more studying... Wild and crazy Saturday nights!
*I don’t know if that’s an official term, but to my mind a run session - or run-through session, maybe - is different than a coaching in that we don’t stop and work. I just sing things through a few times to help “get them into my voice.” More on this in another post. (I’m always saying that, aren’t I?!)
I loved walking through the cold night, reciting lines of recit in my head (and sometimes out loud). I loved seeing people, young and old, on their way to holiday parties, dressed to the nines. I loved walking past the Met and knowing that I would be home again before I was even officially on-call for tonight’s performance of War & Peace! (My character doesn’t come on until about 10:45...) And, of course, I loved hearing Bach, my first musical love, I think. I sang several Bach cantatas in grad school, and those performances are still among my favorites. I think If I had another musical life to live, I would play the Baroque trumpet. Man, do they get some great music! I heard some fantastic singing as well, and ran into several friends-of-friends. But what happened at the reception is the real reason I’m glad I went.
I saw “my Figaro,” MB, at intermission, and we talked a bit with DN (with whom I often coach) and our mutual friends; it came up at this point that we would be singing together in February. At the reception, I mentioned to DN that I would be calling him to set up weekly “Susanna run sessions*” for the next few weeks, and he said, “Oh, MB should come, too; we’ll set up a cast and work through the whole opera. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Um, YES!
He said he’d send out an email tonight and try to round folks up; we think the Count and Countess from our cast will also be in NYC in January. DN will work his connections to try to fill the rest of the parts, and voila! We’ll have a cast! If it works according to plan, we’ll meet a few times, maybe once per act, and just run it. I was already planning to rope some friends into coming to coachings with me to work on recits and duets, and this is just the next best thing. I’m very excited!
It’s 10:45, so I’m officially “off the clock” for the night. Time for a glass of wine and some more studying... Wild and crazy Saturday nights!
*I don’t know if that’s an official term, but to my mind a run session - or run-through session, maybe - is different than a coaching in that we don’t stop and work. I just sing things through a few times to help “get them into my voice.” More on this in another post. (I’m always saying that, aren’t I?!)
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Out of Your Head
I’ve been planning a post for weeks, maybe months, about the importance of getting out of your head and into your body as a singer, and, well, here it is. (Ed. Note: It’s true; I started this post in July...)
The idea first came to me while watching “the big stars” in rehearsals at the Met this past year. Singers who have extensive backgrounds in physical arts - like Diana Damrau (dance) and Rolando Villazon (clowning), for example, two folks I got to see in action – are such a joy to watch onstage! They are not only more comfortable with crazy stage actions like lying down to sing or running or dancing, but they are also able to use their full instrument (it’s more than just the voice!) to engage the listener and to tell the story. Their minds were were completely present on stage, or, at least, so it seemed from the outside. Which, ultimately, is what you want.
It’s as if they’re not actively “thinking.” Singing for them is a physical act, not a cerebral one. Of course, of course: the mind is involved, and the hours of “armchair work” studying languages and rhythms and endless drilling of memory are not unimportant. But when it comes time to get a character on her feet? It’s physical. Not to mention the fact that our actual instrument is located in the body, not the mind...
I can add now, in December, Bryn Terfel: I don’t know what his dance/movement/sports background is, other than rugby, but he is a great physical actor, someone who definitely just goes and there and plays. He has obviously put a lot of thought into his performance and practice and character, but the cerebral brain is turned off on-stage. More on physicality and my Figaro experience in another post.
One night this summer, over at RM’s for dinner, LB and I started waltzing in the kitchen (doing our best to get in the way as much as possible). It began just kind of silly (sillily?), but it didn’t take me long to realize that he actually knew how to waltz! So, instead of just playing around, I had to actively turn of the thinking part of my brain and just give over to the physical act of dancing. When I could let go and let him lead, it was smooth sailing. (It’s so nice to dance with a tall man who knows how to dance, right?) But as soon as my head got involved again, we were at odds (but only slightly). I’m not saying you shouldn’t think when you’re on-stage; obviously, you have to. But it is possible to get in your way.
When students ask me what they should do with themselves while they are building their voices, waiting the 5-10 years between finishing school and being ready (maybe) to work, I encourage them to dance. Take any kind of dance class - ballroom, modern, jazz, ballet, hip-hop, whatever. Or take martial arts or fencing. Anything that gets you out of your mental, analytic, judgmental self and into your physical, instinctual, visceral self. Get out of your head and into your body. Your voice will thank you for it.
The idea first came to me while watching “the big stars” in rehearsals at the Met this past year. Singers who have extensive backgrounds in physical arts - like Diana Damrau (dance) and Rolando Villazon (clowning), for example, two folks I got to see in action – are such a joy to watch onstage! They are not only more comfortable with crazy stage actions like lying down to sing or running or dancing, but they are also able to use their full instrument (it’s more than just the voice!) to engage the listener and to tell the story. Their minds were were completely present on stage, or, at least, so it seemed from the outside. Which, ultimately, is what you want.
It’s as if they’re not actively “thinking.” Singing for them is a physical act, not a cerebral one. Of course, of course: the mind is involved, and the hours of “armchair work” studying languages and rhythms and endless drilling of memory are not unimportant. But when it comes time to get a character on her feet? It’s physical. Not to mention the fact that our actual instrument is located in the body, not the mind...
I can add now, in December, Bryn Terfel: I don’t know what his dance/movement/sports background is, other than rugby, but he is a great physical actor, someone who definitely just goes and there and plays. He has obviously put a lot of thought into his performance and practice and character, but the cerebral brain is turned off on-stage. More on physicality and my Figaro experience in another post.
One night this summer, over at RM’s for dinner, LB and I started waltzing in the kitchen (doing our best to get in the way as much as possible). It began just kind of silly (sillily?), but it didn’t take me long to realize that he actually knew how to waltz! So, instead of just playing around, I had to actively turn of the thinking part of my brain and just give over to the physical act of dancing. When I could let go and let him lead, it was smooth sailing. (It’s so nice to dance with a tall man who knows how to dance, right?) But as soon as my head got involved again, we were at odds (but only slightly). I’m not saying you shouldn’t think when you’re on-stage; obviously, you have to. But it is possible to get in your way.
When students ask me what they should do with themselves while they are building their voices, waiting the 5-10 years between finishing school and being ready (maybe) to work, I encourage them to dance. Take any kind of dance class - ballroom, modern, jazz, ballet, hip-hop, whatever. Or take martial arts or fencing. Anything that gets you out of your mental, analytic, judgmental self and into your physical, instinctual, visceral self. Get out of your head and into your body. Your voice will thank you for it.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
On and off
In tonight’s Figaro, I had both a big “oops” moment and a big “wow, this is awesome” moment. Sometimes you’re on, sometimes you’re off, sometimes even in the same show.
For my first recit in the wedding scene, when presenting the flowers to the Countess, I heard the chord in the harpsichord and just plain didn’t know what my note was supposed to be. I started high, but still in the key, and found my way back to the correct melody by the third word or so. But whooboy!! was that a scary split second! Kim, that’s truly where the improv opera came in handy!
The rest of the scene was fine; fun, even. The Act came to an end and I went back on for the aria, looking for the dang pin. (Side note: on Saturday, when I came into the scene to start looking, what should I see on the floor in front of me but an actual bobby pin! I thought, “Oh! here it is! No need to sing the aria, Maestro!”) I finished up, and we started the recit in which Figaro chides Barbarina for playing these grown up games all too well. We never do the scene exactly the same way twice, and today it was particularly fun.
Bryn usually lifts me by my arm off the floor, where I am crouched looking for – what else? – the pin. But today, I was in a bit of a different position, and he essentially grabbed me by the scruff of my neck! Like a cat, as JB said. He is a master of physicality onstage, so he never hurts me; but this was so different and unexpected that I think I squealed! When it was finally time to say my next line (“What? Are you mad at me?!”), I know that the pitches were approximate, ‘cuz I was speaking/singing as if I were getting picked on my big brother, which, in fact, was kind of what was happening. It was a little whiny, a little pouty, very like a little brat who’d gotten herself in a tricky spot. (Did anyone happen to record tonight’s Sirius broadcast? I’d love to hear it, if you did.)
The moment is hard to describe, but the whole scene was so much fun, as it always is. I never know when Bryn is going to actually let me have the pin that he’s holding; we play keep-away until he gives it up. We are six shows into this run, and every night I learn something new about my character, every night we all make things new. I am thrilled that I’m becoming comfortable enough with recit and Italian that I can “play” like this in performance. I only get two chances with Susanna in February, so I’m going to need to be ready. Ready to play!
For my first recit in the wedding scene, when presenting the flowers to the Countess, I heard the chord in the harpsichord and just plain didn’t know what my note was supposed to be. I started high, but still in the key, and found my way back to the correct melody by the third word or so. But whooboy!! was that a scary split second! Kim, that’s truly where the improv opera came in handy!
The rest of the scene was fine; fun, even. The Act came to an end and I went back on for the aria, looking for the dang pin. (Side note: on Saturday, when I came into the scene to start looking, what should I see on the floor in front of me but an actual bobby pin! I thought, “Oh! here it is! No need to sing the aria, Maestro!”) I finished up, and we started the recit in which Figaro chides Barbarina for playing these grown up games all too well. We never do the scene exactly the same way twice, and today it was particularly fun.
Bryn usually lifts me by my arm off the floor, where I am crouched looking for – what else? – the pin. But today, I was in a bit of a different position, and he essentially grabbed me by the scruff of my neck! Like a cat, as JB said. He is a master of physicality onstage, so he never hurts me; but this was so different and unexpected that I think I squealed! When it was finally time to say my next line (“What? Are you mad at me?!”), I know that the pitches were approximate, ‘cuz I was speaking/singing as if I were getting picked on my big brother, which, in fact, was kind of what was happening. It was a little whiny, a little pouty, very like a little brat who’d gotten herself in a tricky spot. (Did anyone happen to record tonight’s Sirius broadcast? I’d love to hear it, if you did.)
The moment is hard to describe, but the whole scene was so much fun, as it always is. I never know when Bryn is going to actually let me have the pin that he’s holding; we play keep-away until he gives it up. We are six shows into this run, and every night I learn something new about my character, every night we all make things new. I am thrilled that I’m becoming comfortable enough with recit and Italian that I can “play” like this in performance. I only get two chances with Susanna in February, so I’m going to need to be ready. Ready to play!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
A dream
Last Saturday felt like a dream, in more ways than one! It was a dream to up on that stage at the curtain call, surrounded by incredible artists (who are all, to a one, fun and fabulous people, too) and hearing the rush of applause from the audience when each of them would enter for their bow. My cheeks hurt from all the smiling!
But it also felt like a dream on Sunday morning, when I woke up and thought, “What happened yesterday?” I had vague memories of seeing Bryn Terfel on a darkened stage; I remembered seeing the Maestro out in the pit (so far away!) with a full house behind him; I kind of remembered singing an aria… But I am not exaggerating when I say that Wednesday night’s performance was full of moments that I just plain did not recall from the first show on Saturday!
At one point, I’m supposed to take off my hat and leave it backstage for G, my dresser, to come collect. As I was getting ready to go on Wednesday, I conferred with her about when, exactly, that was supposed to happen – because I absolutely could not remember. There was zero memory of taking off my hat!! She was pretty sure it happened before my aria, so I said I’d take if off in the very short interlude that I’m offstage after the wedding and before the aria.
So, I go on, sing the recits in the wedding scene (having much more fun and getting a bit more flirty with the Count this time around), exit the stage with Kate (Cherubino), and am met by M, a stage manager, who says, “Bend down.” She then proceeds to take off my hat! Honestly? As far as I know, that didn’t happen on Saturday. Of course it did, but the memory has been completely blacked out, along with the dancing in the wedding scene, and any thing that happened between my dressing room and the stage. It’s just gone.
Why? I usually have the ability to take in a lot of what is going on around me while I’m performing and still stay focused on doing my job. In school productions, I always found my parents in the audience without even trying; my scope was just wide, and I knew their faces well enough to spot them in a crowd without much effort. But on Saturday? That scope, that focus, was so close in, I’m surprised I even saw the audience. There is always a lot going on “behind the scenes” of a show, things other than the stage action, but at the Met, it’s off the charts. In order to make it out alive, I had to tune out all the unnecessary stuff. It’s kind of amazing, really, the brain’s ability to do that…
By Wednesday, I was able to have much more fun, to open my focus a little bit more. This time around, I knew what the orchestra was going to sound like (I didn’t get the chance to sing my aria at the Sitzprobe…), I knew what to expect from the harpsichord and continuo, and I knew my way around the set a little better. I knew where my colleagues were going to be, so I didn’t have to worry about stepping on them like I did with a chorus member during the wedding dance on Saturday! I could relax a bit into my aria, since I knew my way around the stage and I knew when and where and how to connect with the Maestro.
All this, and I had a TINY role!! I can’t imagine how Susanna or the Count or any of them did what they did on Saturday. It’s a testament to their skills as stage creatures, as professionals who thrive under less-than-ideal conditions. A long rehearsal period is a luxury, I’m learning, and these folks know how to get it done under pressure.
In other news, my cold was very short-lived; two days of rest and lots of water and yin qiao knocked it out. My parents have been having a great week in NYC: a fantastic dinner at Telepan before the show on Wednesday (thanks for the rec, JSU!), the NYFOS concert and swank party afterwards, a trip to the American Girl store with the birthday girl (6!), sitting in on ESL classes at a local middle school (Mom) and tiling the Brooklyn Birds’ kitchen (Dad). I’ll meet up with them again tonight, after today’s matinee and an audition at 6. This audition requires some scene reading – in an Irish accent! Fortunately, my dear PM was in town still, and we met up over hot chocolate yesterday to talk soft T’s and closed O’s.
It’s been an intense few weeks around here, but I wouldn’t change a bit of it. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
PS: This is my 500th post! What's the gift for 500?
But it also felt like a dream on Sunday morning, when I woke up and thought, “What happened yesterday?” I had vague memories of seeing Bryn Terfel on a darkened stage; I remembered seeing the Maestro out in the pit (so far away!) with a full house behind him; I kind of remembered singing an aria… But I am not exaggerating when I say that Wednesday night’s performance was full of moments that I just plain did not recall from the first show on Saturday!
At one point, I’m supposed to take off my hat and leave it backstage for G, my dresser, to come collect. As I was getting ready to go on Wednesday, I conferred with her about when, exactly, that was supposed to happen – because I absolutely could not remember. There was zero memory of taking off my hat!! She was pretty sure it happened before my aria, so I said I’d take if off in the very short interlude that I’m offstage after the wedding and before the aria.
So, I go on, sing the recits in the wedding scene (having much more fun and getting a bit more flirty with the Count this time around), exit the stage with Kate (Cherubino), and am met by M, a stage manager, who says, “Bend down.” She then proceeds to take off my hat! Honestly? As far as I know, that didn’t happen on Saturday. Of course it did, but the memory has been completely blacked out, along with the dancing in the wedding scene, and any thing that happened between my dressing room and the stage. It’s just gone.
Why? I usually have the ability to take in a lot of what is going on around me while I’m performing and still stay focused on doing my job. In school productions, I always found my parents in the audience without even trying; my scope was just wide, and I knew their faces well enough to spot them in a crowd without much effort. But on Saturday? That scope, that focus, was so close in, I’m surprised I even saw the audience. There is always a lot going on “behind the scenes” of a show, things other than the stage action, but at the Met, it’s off the charts. In order to make it out alive, I had to tune out all the unnecessary stuff. It’s kind of amazing, really, the brain’s ability to do that…
By Wednesday, I was able to have much more fun, to open my focus a little bit more. This time around, I knew what the orchestra was going to sound like (I didn’t get the chance to sing my aria at the Sitzprobe…), I knew what to expect from the harpsichord and continuo, and I knew my way around the set a little better. I knew where my colleagues were going to be, so I didn’t have to worry about stepping on them like I did with a chorus member during the wedding dance on Saturday! I could relax a bit into my aria, since I knew my way around the stage and I knew when and where and how to connect with the Maestro.
All this, and I had a TINY role!! I can’t imagine how Susanna or the Count or any of them did what they did on Saturday. It’s a testament to their skills as stage creatures, as professionals who thrive under less-than-ideal conditions. A long rehearsal period is a luxury, I’m learning, and these folks know how to get it done under pressure.
In other news, my cold was very short-lived; two days of rest and lots of water and yin qiao knocked it out. My parents have been having a great week in NYC: a fantastic dinner at Telepan before the show on Wednesday (thanks for the rec, JSU!), the NYFOS concert and swank party afterwards, a trip to the American Girl store with the birthday girl (6!), sitting in on ESL classes at a local middle school (Mom) and tiling the Brooklyn Birds’ kitchen (Dad). I’ll meet up with them again tonight, after today’s matinee and an audition at 6. This audition requires some scene reading – in an Irish accent! Fortunately, my dear PM was in town still, and we met up over hot chocolate yesterday to talk soft T’s and closed O’s.
It’s been an intense few weeks around here, but I wouldn’t change a bit of it. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
PS: This is my 500th post! What's the gift for 500?
Friday, November 09, 2007
Too much
I think there just must be too much in my head, too many wonderful things I want to write about, and they are all jumbled up and causing a backlog… Let me see if I can’t get some of the awesomeness of the last few days out this morning.
Wednesday night I got to be an audience member for once, and I took in a lovely Traviata with BD. Our seats (his season ticket seats) were just perfect, and I got to take him on a bit of a “VIP / guest of a Met artist” tour during the first intermission. It was fun to get to know him a bit more, this lover of opera, and of course we rubbed elbows with blog buddies during the second intermission.
The night got even better as I came out into the cold (finally!) night air and started to walk home. I have a slightly obsessive habit of checking my email on my phone, and before I was past the fountain in the middle of Lincoln Center plaza, I had opened a very unexpected email from the Sullivan Foundation: “Congratulations!” Are you kidding?!?!? I think I let out an shriek of some kind, startling the opera patrons filing past me, and I ducked under the State Theater overhang to collect myself – and lean against a wall before I fell down!
I called my parents, and was able to share the news through tears. When they are in town next week to see Figaro, we’ll be going out for a fancy New York dinner to celebrate – my treat! Any suggestions?
There’s more, of course: the ups and downs of this weeks rehearsals, lunch with certain baritones whose initials are SK and BT, learning that two of my favorite colleagues (LW & MW, no relation) also won Sullivan awards… it’s just been a dream. I wish I could capture the sweetly awkward conversations I had with both of them yesterday. When you win a competition, it’s so hard to inquire about your friends; there’s no easy way to say, “I won a Sullivan grant! Did you?” We approached each other (in both cases) hopeful that the other had won, but worried about hurt feelings or disappointment. “Um, did you hear…” “Uh-huh, did you?” “Yeah, um…” “Did you…?” “Yeah. Did you?” “YES!!!” There was lots of shrieking and hugging and jumping up and down. I somehow enjoyed my win even more when I knew I was in such good company.
I’m almost late, as always, so I’ll write more later! Lots of thoughts on tomorrow’s excitement…
Wednesday night I got to be an audience member for once, and I took in a lovely Traviata with BD. Our seats (his season ticket seats) were just perfect, and I got to take him on a bit of a “VIP / guest of a Met artist” tour during the first intermission. It was fun to get to know him a bit more, this lover of opera, and of course we rubbed elbows with blog buddies during the second intermission.
The night got even better as I came out into the cold (finally!) night air and started to walk home. I have a slightly obsessive habit of checking my email on my phone, and before I was past the fountain in the middle of Lincoln Center plaza, I had opened a very unexpected email from the Sullivan Foundation: “Congratulations!” Are you kidding?!?!? I think I let out an shriek of some kind, startling the opera patrons filing past me, and I ducked under the State Theater overhang to collect myself – and lean against a wall before I fell down!
I called my parents, and was able to share the news through tears. When they are in town next week to see Figaro, we’ll be going out for a fancy New York dinner to celebrate – my treat! Any suggestions?
There’s more, of course: the ups and downs of this weeks rehearsals, lunch with certain baritones whose initials are SK and BT, learning that two of my favorite colleagues (LW & MW, no relation) also won Sullivan awards… it’s just been a dream. I wish I could capture the sweetly awkward conversations I had with both of them yesterday. When you win a competition, it’s so hard to inquire about your friends; there’s no easy way to say, “I won a Sullivan grant! Did you?” We approached each other (in both cases) hopeful that the other had won, but worried about hurt feelings or disappointment. “Um, did you hear…” “Uh-huh, did you?” “Yeah, um…” “Did you…?” “Yeah. Did you?” “YES!!!” There was lots of shrieking and hugging and jumping up and down. I somehow enjoyed my win even more when I knew I was in such good company.
I’m almost late, as always, so I’ll write more later! Lots of thoughts on tomorrow’s excitement…
Friday, October 26, 2007
Schubert Songs
Congratulations to Tom Meglioranza on the release of his first solo CD!! Schubert Songs is available via CD Baby, and I, for one, will be ordering mine asap.
What a joy!
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Macdeath (not to be confused with McBeth™)
I’ve noticed that opera folks don’t seem to have the superstition about saying the title of “that Scottish play” in the theater. It’s not one I’ve ever been particularly prickly about, either, but some people I know refuse to say it! Superstitions aside, it’s a fantastic play, brilliant opera, and this production is going to be amazing. If you’re not already doing so, check out the MetBlog for regular behind-the-scenes information and great videos of the rehearsal process.
A couple of notes from my perspective, about my experience:
There is a very cool audio-visual effect surrounding the apparition scene, and I won’t go into it here (I’ll leave the divulging of stage “secrets” to the MetBlog folks…), but what it meant for the three of us singers (Warrior (DC), Bloody Child (AE), Crowned Child (ACB)) was that we were to sing from off-stage. At first, I was disappointed, because, after all, it’s being onstage that I live for, right? But then it became something even more casual and fun – no costume! no makeup or wig! AE and I decided that we would coordinate our outfits for every show, wearing funny things like bad ball gowns or crazy costumes (especially for the Oct. 31 show!). It was fun to stand in the same spot off Stage Left where I sang my first Young Lover line in the spring. I’ve gotten to know some of the SL crew, one more way the Met feels like a “home” theater, and I enjoyed hanging out, waiting to sing my line.
But then it was decided that we would sing from the pit! Again, I was disappointed at first, but once I got down there? Wow, what an treat. Talk about experiencing a Verdi orchestra up-close and personal!! We are standing just under the lip of the stage, behind the bassoons. The brass and percussion are to my left, which means I often get blasted by some of those unexpected fortissimo chords during the apparition scene! As I learn the score, I’m getting better at anticipating and getting my ears plugged in advance. Hearing and feeling the orchestra at this proximity is thrilling. And, well, being about 15 feet from Mo. Levine and watching him at work is pretty awesome, too. I floated on air for about an hour after he gave me an “a-ok” sign and a nod the first time we got to my line…
Side note: one of the trombonists, WS, was a Fellow at Tanglewood with me in ‘03 & ’04! It was a fun surprise to run into him in the cafeteria last year. Many of the orchestra members are in my age group, which is so great to see. DC commented yesterday, when the orchestra was tuning, on how young the concertmaster was, to which I replied, “Yeah, he’s young, but I think it really just means that we’re all getting older!” It is our peers who are now holding places of honor – Music Directors, concertmasters, admins – rather than only our teachers and mentors. We are the next generation, all grown up.
One more thing about Macbeth: the costumes for the witches look far too much like my wardrobe in high school and college. Thrift store dresses with clunky shoes, gloves, old cardigans… ‘twas the ‘90s after all! Grunge, baby. I’ve mentioned this to a couple of folks, and their reactions were very different. “I’m not sure I’d admit that in public,” versus “Oh, we would have been in the same group of friends, then, ‘cuz all my girlfriends dressed like that, too!” Hot.
A couple of notes from my perspective, about my experience:
There is a very cool audio-visual effect surrounding the apparition scene, and I won’t go into it here (I’ll leave the divulging of stage “secrets” to the MetBlog folks…), but what it meant for the three of us singers (Warrior (DC), Bloody Child (AE), Crowned Child (ACB)) was that we were to sing from off-stage. At first, I was disappointed, because, after all, it’s being onstage that I live for, right? But then it became something even more casual and fun – no costume! no makeup or wig! AE and I decided that we would coordinate our outfits for every show, wearing funny things like bad ball gowns or crazy costumes (especially for the Oct. 31 show!). It was fun to stand in the same spot off Stage Left where I sang my first Young Lover line in the spring. I’ve gotten to know some of the SL crew, one more way the Met feels like a “home” theater, and I enjoyed hanging out, waiting to sing my line.
But then it was decided that we would sing from the pit! Again, I was disappointed at first, but once I got down there? Wow, what an treat. Talk about experiencing a Verdi orchestra up-close and personal!! We are standing just under the lip of the stage, behind the bassoons. The brass and percussion are to my left, which means I often get blasted by some of those unexpected fortissimo chords during the apparition scene! As I learn the score, I’m getting better at anticipating and getting my ears plugged in advance. Hearing and feeling the orchestra at this proximity is thrilling. And, well, being about 15 feet from Mo. Levine and watching him at work is pretty awesome, too. I floated on air for about an hour after he gave me an “a-ok” sign and a nod the first time we got to my line…
Side note: one of the trombonists, WS, was a Fellow at Tanglewood with me in ‘03 & ’04! It was a fun surprise to run into him in the cafeteria last year. Many of the orchestra members are in my age group, which is so great to see. DC commented yesterday, when the orchestra was tuning, on how young the concertmaster was, to which I replied, “Yeah, he’s young, but I think it really just means that we’re all getting older!” It is our peers who are now holding places of honor – Music Directors, concertmasters, admins – rather than only our teachers and mentors. We are the next generation, all grown up.
One more thing about Macbeth: the costumes for the witches look far too much like my wardrobe in high school and college. Thrift store dresses with clunky shoes, gloves, old cardigans… ‘twas the ‘90s after all! Grunge, baby. I’ve mentioned this to a couple of folks, and their reactions were very different. “I’m not sure I’d admit that in public,” versus “Oh, we would have been in the same group of friends, then, ‘cuz all my girlfriends dressed like that, too!” Hot.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The gauntlet
I have a shopping gauntlet, of sorts, here in New York: the 66 block of Columbus Avenue. Barnes & Noble, MAC, Kiehl’s… I’m a totally goner if I walk that block with cash to burn! The timing was such today that I had both reason to walk that way (it was the only way to get from the Met to meet my friends at Harry’s!) and that I’m in a fairly “free” week of my budget (bills paid, including an advance to my manager; money into savings for the month). I’ve been putting of these purchases until I knew I had the cash, so today was the day. Such fun!
Of course, B&N was the first stop, to pick up Alex’s book. How exciting and heart-warming to hold something in my hands that we’ve all watched come into being over the past couple of years. I can only imagine how much stronger that feeling is for Alex! Congratulations, again, Mr. Ross.
MAC was next; my plan was to pick up one or two new eye shadows to spice up my makeup bag. I started going over colors with the sales girl, but soon noticed a familiar figure behind me: C, the head of the makeup department while I was at Santa Fe! We said hello and caught up quickly, and then she asked what I was looking for. I figured she was just “making chitchat,” but she walked over to the eye shadows with me and took over the search from the sales girl! She checked out my eye-color (hazely-blue, usually) and helped me settle on a great palette of four colors: a shimmery olive, a rich gold, a matte dark mauve, and a soft shimmery peach. Yes, I only went in for one or two, but MAC has these awesome mix-your-own magnetic palettes… like I said: a goner.
C gave me a few tips on how to use the colors (“Use this as your base.” “Put just a bit of this in your eye crease.” “You can use this with this, or this with that, or…”), and then, like a little makeup fairy, she was gone! It was great to have some expert help from someone who knew me a bit better than the sales girl, who was not quite getting my make-up style. I’d love to be able to wear crazy blues and dark purples, but I always just feel silly.
And this post has nothing to do with learning music or upcoming last-minute recitals… Just a bit of Thursday night shopping fun. Back to work tomorrow.
Of course, B&N was the first stop, to pick up Alex’s book. How exciting and heart-warming to hold something in my hands that we’ve all watched come into being over the past couple of years. I can only imagine how much stronger that feeling is for Alex! Congratulations, again, Mr. Ross.
MAC was next; my plan was to pick up one or two new eye shadows to spice up my makeup bag. I started going over colors with the sales girl, but soon noticed a familiar figure behind me: C, the head of the makeup department while I was at Santa Fe! We said hello and caught up quickly, and then she asked what I was looking for. I figured she was just “making chitchat,” but she walked over to the eye shadows with me and took over the search from the sales girl! She checked out my eye-color (hazely-blue, usually) and helped me settle on a great palette of four colors: a shimmery olive, a rich gold, a matte dark mauve, and a soft shimmery peach. Yes, I only went in for one or two, but MAC has these awesome mix-your-own magnetic palettes… like I said: a goner.
C gave me a few tips on how to use the colors (“Use this as your base.” “Put just a bit of this in your eye crease.” “You can use this with this, or this with that, or…”), and then, like a little makeup fairy, she was gone! It was great to have some expert help from someone who knew me a bit better than the sales girl, who was not quite getting my make-up style. I’d love to be able to wear crazy blues and dark purples, but I always just feel silly.
And this post has nothing to do with learning music or upcoming last-minute recitals… Just a bit of Thursday night shopping fun. Back to work tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Lame
Ok, I don't know how this escaped my Blogroll updates for so long, but I need to finally link to Deceptively Simple, Marc Geelhoed's Chicago-based music and culture blog. Marc writes for Time Out Chicago, and has become a "friend in the computer" over the past year as we have shared losses and talked shop.
I look forward to another blogger meet-up someday with more of the Chicago contingency present!
I look forward to another blogger meet-up someday with more of the Chicago contingency present!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Shimmering, Sparkling
What do Rachmaninoff, The National, and red skinny jeans have in common? They were all part of my night last night, making for a great NYC experience.
Looking again, I guess that opener should be more along the lines of “one of these things is not like the other,” since skinny jeans and indie rock go together like classical music recitals and formal gowns. Ummm…. wait a minute.
Last night I sang on another concert in the VIM series at a great little gallery in Tribeca. This series has always (in its now two seasons of existence) been about breaking the mold, so to speak, of chamber music and recital presentation. I talked with several people throughout the night about this, musicians and non-musicians alike, and we all seemed excited about this trend towards making chamber music intimate and familiar again. I’m sure people have been talking of the “rebirth of the salon” for a while now, but I know that among my peers, we’re doing our damndest to make it happen.
So, to that end… I looked at my schedule for the evening: sing Rachmaninoff songs in a recital in Tribeca at 7pm, then hoof it uptown to catch The National give the inaugural concert at Terminal 5, the new venue operated by The Bowery Presents. It was rainy and gross, so I wanted to carry as little as possible with me, which meant: no change of clothes. What could I wear that would be appropriate for both events?
I checked in with Kimball, the recital’s host, to see how he’d feel about something a little less than standard, and as I hoped, he was all for it. A few weeks ago, I picked up an amazing vintage sequined top at a church sidewalk sale: black and silver, a big butterfly design on the front and back, loose-fitting and fun. When I saw it, I thought, “That is either the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, or the coolest!” Since it was $5, I bought it, immediately picturing it with skinny red jeans and black heels. Disco lives, babies! I found the jeans at Urban Outfitters, of course, and voila! Hipster recitalist.
I cannot tell you how much fun it was to perform in that venue, for those people, in those clothes. It was so relaxed, so comfortable, so intimate – but not a drop of professionalism or musicianship was lost at any moment, by any of the performers. Intimate doesn’t have to mean sloppy, relaxed doesn’t have to mean lazy. There were no program notes or translations, so I got to introduce each song, further breaking the wall of formality. (There were some Russians, in the house, incidentally, and they said they understood every word! Phew!!) I met some great new colleagues and friends, and discussions were begun about possible future performances (stay tuned for news of a possible Bhakti revival!).
It goes without saying that the concert uptown was awesome. I had no idea a violin could rock like that… And JD and I got to see the first champagne spilled on the stage at this fantastic new venue, which just happens to be five blocks from my house. I’ll see The Shins there in two weeks! A midnight snack at the diner up the street – where we were joined by a dear friend & colleague who had his own performance in Midtown that evening – and a brisk walk home through the October mist wrapped up what was an unforgettable night. Friends, Fashion, Food, indeed. Oh yeah, and music, too… Fabulous.
Oh, and? The evening was professionally videotaped (taped? what do we call this now?!), so stay tuned for some YouTube action. See the sequins in all their glory!!
**Disclaimer, NIB, etc: I'm not at all proposing that we do away with the formal concert gown! Far from it; you know I love me some Badgley Mischka. If I am ever lucky enough to present a recital in Weill or Alice Tully, you can bet I'll be glammed out to the max! But, every now and then, let's relax a bit; let's bring some rock star glamour to this fantastic art form.
Looking again, I guess that opener should be more along the lines of “one of these things is not like the other,” since skinny jeans and indie rock go together like classical music recitals and formal gowns. Ummm…. wait a minute.
Last night I sang on another concert in the VIM series at a great little gallery in Tribeca. This series has always (in its now two seasons of existence) been about breaking the mold, so to speak, of chamber music and recital presentation. I talked with several people throughout the night about this, musicians and non-musicians alike, and we all seemed excited about this trend towards making chamber music intimate and familiar again. I’m sure people have been talking of the “rebirth of the salon” for a while now, but I know that among my peers, we’re doing our damndest to make it happen.
So, to that end… I looked at my schedule for the evening: sing Rachmaninoff songs in a recital in Tribeca at 7pm, then hoof it uptown to catch The National give the inaugural concert at Terminal 5, the new venue operated by The Bowery Presents. It was rainy and gross, so I wanted to carry as little as possible with me, which meant: no change of clothes. What could I wear that would be appropriate for both events?
I checked in with Kimball, the recital’s host, to see how he’d feel about something a little less than standard, and as I hoped, he was all for it. A few weeks ago, I picked up an amazing vintage sequined top at a church sidewalk sale: black and silver, a big butterfly design on the front and back, loose-fitting and fun. When I saw it, I thought, “That is either the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, or the coolest!” Since it was $5, I bought it, immediately picturing it with skinny red jeans and black heels. Disco lives, babies! I found the jeans at Urban Outfitters, of course, and voila! Hipster recitalist.
I cannot tell you how much fun it was to perform in that venue, for those people, in those clothes. It was so relaxed, so comfortable, so intimate – but not a drop of professionalism or musicianship was lost at any moment, by any of the performers. Intimate doesn’t have to mean sloppy, relaxed doesn’t have to mean lazy. There were no program notes or translations, so I got to introduce each song, further breaking the wall of formality. (There were some Russians, in the house, incidentally, and they said they understood every word! Phew!!) I met some great new colleagues and friends, and discussions were begun about possible future performances (stay tuned for news of a possible Bhakti revival!).
It goes without saying that the concert uptown was awesome. I had no idea a violin could rock like that… And JD and I got to see the first champagne spilled on the stage at this fantastic new venue, which just happens to be five blocks from my house. I’ll see The Shins there in two weeks! A midnight snack at the diner up the street – where we were joined by a dear friend & colleague who had his own performance in Midtown that evening – and a brisk walk home through the October mist wrapped up what was an unforgettable night. Friends, Fashion, Food, indeed. Oh yeah, and music, too… Fabulous.
Oh, and? The evening was professionally videotaped (taped? what do we call this now?!), so stay tuned for some YouTube action. See the sequins in all their glory!!
**Disclaimer, NIB, etc: I'm not at all proposing that we do away with the formal concert gown! Far from it; you know I love me some Badgley Mischka. If I am ever lucky enough to present a recital in Weill or Alice Tully, you can bet I'll be glammed out to the max! But, every now and then, let's relax a bit; let's bring some rock star glamour to this fantastic art form.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
