Energy, given and received

When we got home Sunday night, B asked if there had been any talk of going to Clyde’s with the cast after the post-show reception. I think I passed out from the very idea of exerting any more energy that night... After essentially running the show four times in the span of 30 hours, wearing my 3-inch-heel show shoes all the while, I had nothing left. It was all I could do to hold my glass of wine while I lay on the couch! (Pictures of the gold slinky dress coming soon...)

If I had been scheduled to do another performance of Candide, I would probably have paced myself a bit more, budgeting energy and voice to make it through a run. But with a “one off,” there is no reason, in my mind, to hold anything back. I might as well give it all, since this was my one chance! One night for the audience, one night for me. I gave everything I had, and I loved every minute of it.

I decided Sunday morning that I was going to sing that night for CT the DT, now writing a new blog from her hospital room with her husband’s help. We are not as close as we were when I lived in Seattle, but once upon a time CT said she would travel anywhere to see me perform, and she often did. Sunday night’s Candide was a joyful show, a fun and silly show that ends with one of the most poignant and beautiful songs in the repertoire, “Make our Garden Grow.” I knew she would love it if she were there, that it could be a balm for her body and soul in many ways. And so, just before I walked onstage to sing “Glitter and Be Gay,” I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, sending love and energy and joy and the healing power of music from my little corner of the Filene Center to her corner of the ICU.

At no point in the performance did I feel nervous, not the slightest bit. Her strong will and good heart were nurturing me, and I was blessed. Next time, I hope she is there in body as well as in spirit.

Romance

About halfway through the first part of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra concert at Carnegie Hall this afternoon, I knew what I wanted to write about today: applause. But then I had an encounter at intermission that trumped my first idea, at least temporarily.

Yesterday I did something to my back, tweaked it somehow, and I’ve been in pretty serious pain on and off since then. It’s an old injury, from my gymnastics days, and if my overall core strength is diminished or if I sleep in a too-soft bed, one wrong move can set things a-spazzin’. Not fun. (For more on injuries to girls in high school and college sports programs, read this article from last week’s NYTimes. I was FAR from an athlete, and I still have physical maladies that plague me. I can only imagine what today’s hardcore female athletes will have to deal with unless they get better strength training and preventative care.)

ANyway... I digress. At intermission, as we were getting up from our (wonderful and generously donated orchestra) seats, I had to grab my friend’s arm to get up to a standing position. My friend was (still is, actually) a man, not my boyfriend, but it’s crowded and pushy in that aisle at intermission, and so I was standing very close to him, doing my best to stand up straight and not get jostled about. He had just asked about the pain in my back, and as I was telling him, a woman walked past us and said “This is no place for a romance, kids.”

Umm... excuse me?! I turned to watch her go, my mouth agape, and before I could stop myself I said, “I’m in pain, but thank you.” (I don’t know what that was supposed to mean, but that’s what came out.) As I turned back in astonishment to JM, another woman was passing by and acknowledged the first woman’s comment. “That was so rude! And even if you weren’t in pain, why isn’t this a place for a romance?!”

Why not, indeed. There were so many things wrong with that woman’s behavior, I almost don’t know where to start. How about: mind your own business? You can never tell what is going unless you are directly involved in a conversation. There was no PDA, no googly eyes, no sweet talk. She made a snap judgement, and it was completely wrong. She should have kept her mouth shut. I’m sure that if I hadn’t been in such pain, I would have come up with an even more witty statement to tell her so.

And how about: this is exactly the kind of attitude that keeps “kids” out of the concert halls! As the second woman recognized, a passionate orchestra concert on a rainy Sunday afternoon is fantastic place for romance! (She was there with a handsome gent who seemed tickled by the whole encounter. There seemed to be a bit of romance between them... but what do I know.) There certainly was enough passion on that stage to ignite a fire, and the buzz in the auditorium at the end was absolutely hott. The audience felt the enthusiasm coming from the performers, and they responded to it with an extended ovation. My dictionary widget defines "romance" thusly (second definition): “a quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life.” Seems a pretty good definition of what was going on in that hall today. How sad that this woman was seemed only concerned with everyone minding their p’s and q’s. Were I not “a regular” at this sort of thing, I can see how her comment would have turned me sour on ever going back.

I wonder why she was there in the first place. What did she get from the afternoon? Did the music move her in any way? Or was she one of the people who jumped out of her seat after Gergiev’s first bow, heading toward the exit to grab her coat and find a cab? Maybe I’m wrong, and maybe she was one of the hundreds who stood and called him back three times, eager to thank him and the orchestra for temporarily transporting them. Those who stood and applauded until the end are guilty of what some might see as inappropriate conduct in a venerable hall like Carnegie.

We all had a romance with Maestro Gergiev and the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. I hope we did not offend.

Honor

The blogging slump continues, but I want to say what an honor it was to sing the premiere of Hillula last night. (We’re now considering this the real premiere; last year was really more of a workshop of parts of the whole.) The experience was at once private and public, a new feeling for me in terms of performance. Usually, once I get to performance time, it’s only about the sharing, about conveying a message to the people in the audience, moving them. But last night, I simultaneously wanted to share it with the world (look, hear, see how beautiful this is!) and keep it to myself (so special, so personal)... not unlike a new love. This work has been three years in the making, and last night was both a completion (the work) and a beginning (the life of the work). Judd and spent the train ride home brainstorming about what that life should be, exactly...

Also on the ride home, I did something I don’t think I’ve ever done immediately after a performance: I listened to the recording. I just wasn’t ready for it to be over... of course I heard things I didn’t like, but nothing that I wasn’t fully aware of in performance. A misplaced breath here, a slight chip there... details. But there were some other moments that just took my breath away. Not because I’m such a great singer, but because this piece inspired some of my best singing; Jocelyn, too, had moments of brilliance. I couldn’t have asked for a better, more beautiful, more tuned-in partner in this endeavor. When it ended (all 18 minutes of it), I took out my earbuds and said to Judd, “Thank you. I am so honored to have been part of bringing this to life.”

So honored.

Home

Yesterday morning, I woke up in the dark. Before I opened my eyes, I recognized that I was waking in a new bed, not the one I was in the day before. “Where am I?” Joyfully, my subconscious responded, “My own bed!!”

Yes, I’m back in my little hobbit hole for a lovely bit of “down time.” I have a total of four performances (all local) in the next six weeks; that feels like a perfect pace! And yet, it’s going to be busy: A few auditions. Rehearsals with Jocelyn for the premiere of the revised version of Hillula on April 29th. Studying music for the ASO concerts in May. A few performances of Macbeth. I’ll spend some time with the scores of Candide and Ariadne, too, over the next few weeks.

And then of course, there are concerts (of the indie rock and indie classical variety) and recitals to attend. Dinners and drinks to be had. Family to relax with, friends to catch up with, and the general wonder that is spring in NYC to enjoy. Lots to keep me busy, but plenty of time to breathe and smile.

I’m happy to be back in the land of wireless internet, so I hope to get back to a more regular writing and posting schedule soon. I have a few thoughts to get out still about The Rosina Experience; I think my time in Dayton will prove to be bit of a turning point for me, in many ways.

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!

Things I can’t live without

I’ve done my best to avoid creating a pre-show routine, something that I depend on in order to perform well. Life on the road (and life in general) is too unpredictable to expect to have things a certain way for every performance. (Of course, were I working on Broadway, on a long-running show, I would totally have a routine, and would likely be a “nester” as described in this article from last weekend’s NYTimes.) But there are a few things that I try to have around me, things that give a bit of support no matter what else is going on around me.

Ricola cough drops I almost always have one tucked into my costume somewhere (wrapped, of course… although I have a do story about unwrapped ones…), and I keep one in my mouth almost all the time when I’m off-stage. They just do the trick, soothing and comforting.

Throat Coat tea I usually sip on a mug of this while I’m getting my hair and makeup done. I’m not sure what’s in it, but it feels so good…

Good shoes Whenever I learn that I will likely be put into standard character shoes for a show, I do my best to convince the costume coordinator that my black Beautifeel shoes will pass the mustard muster. (See the comments!) Take my word for it, these are the most comfortable shoes EVER. I wore them throughout Figaro rehearsals last month, and I get to use them for this show, too. Black, ankle strap, “character-ish,” with extra padding on the ball of the foot, they were worth every penny and make all these active on-my-feet roles bearable!

A healthy dinner I’ve always aimed for something high-protein and low-fat, something that would stick to my ribs and give my energy throughout the evening. Fish and rice works sometimes, but these days I’m enjoying a lentil and wild rice dish I made up in Grand Rapids. I eat about 2/3 of a sizable portion about an hour before curtain, and then finish it up after the show is over. I have to eat fairly quickly after the show is over or else I crash - HARD! Last night I paired it with an avocado and some pita chips… yummm.

My iPod I’m constantly studying my score throughout the evening, but every now and then, and definitely on the ride home, I need to rock out. Rogue Wave, The Killers, and (guilty pleasure alert) late-90s country hits fit the bill these days.

Dove facial cleansing cloths Just one easily takes of a full face (and neck) of stage makeup. Add some tinted moisturizer, mascara, and Cherry Chapstick, toss out the pin-curl hair, and I’m ready for the post-show party!

Final dress rehearsal tonight… how did we get here already?! For kicks, here’s the lentil recipe. Happy eating, or I guess I should say, “Mangia!”

1 medium onion, diced
olive oil
salt & pepper
1 tsp chili powder (maybe more? I never measure…)
1 C red lentils
2 C water
pre-cooked wild rice, about 1 1/2 C
1/2 C pistachios or other flavorful nut

Soften the onion in about 2 Tbsp of oil. Add the lentils and stir to coat with the oil; add the spices and stir. Add water and simmer uncovered until most of the water is absorbed and lentils are soft. (They won’t really retain their shape.) Stir in wild rice and pistachios and adjust seasonings.

Generosity

If there is a word that has been a theme in my lessons and coachings and rehearsals over the past few months, I think it might be “generosity.”

JD first mentioned it a few months ago during a French coaching. In the days following Pavorotti’s death last summer, when video and audio clips of his singing were everywhere, she was struck by the overwhelming generosity with which he sang. “He never kept his voice from the audience,” she said. It seemed to her that he was always pouring out his entire voice, always giving it, never hiding it, and the audience could tell.

This kind of vocal generosity is two-fold, I think. One element is technical: singing with an open, unrestricted throat, a mouth and jaw that know how to freely and easily form language, and a fully engaged breath that allows the sound to pour out unimpeded. This is the sound that makes you say, “Wow, what a voice…” Moments of vocal disconnect are few and far between with this kind of generous singing.

The other element is, of course, mental. Or maybe even spiritual. It’s the ability to open your heart to your audience, to give freely of your artistic self, without fear of rejection or expectation of reward. That could be the definition of generosity, right? This is the kind of sharing that makes you think, “Wow, what a singer…”

In the greatest singers, like Pavarotti, both elements are present. Generosity of voice, generosity of heart. There are some days when it’s easier than others to be generous of heart, and some days when the voice is more unwieldy than others. But with practice, generosity can become the normal state of things. (This obviously applies to other areas of life, too, right?)

Our director mentioned generosity the other day as we were staging the finale. He encouraged us to “practice being generous with the audience,” even though we currently don’t have one. Things like keeping your eyes bright, or feeling the love and joy and excitement of the music passing through you into the theater, or even just smiling when you sing - these are things that can be practiced. The more you practice them, the more truly they come through once the audience - the recipients of your gifts - are finally present.

Tonight is our piano dress rehearsal. I am a bit heavy of heart today, and my voice feels funny, but I am going to practice generosity tonight. Practice, practice, practice… Who knows, maybe there is someone there who needs what little I have to give.

Emma

After a day that was a true comedy of errors, last night’s concert turned out to be one of those performances that makes it all worthwhile. Something magical and special was created in that concert hall last night; duende was present in each and every musician on that stage.

I won’t go into the craziness of the day, but a few hours before the concert we discovered that the folk singer had been delayed in his flight to Ithaca and was not going to make it. Fortunately, Evan Chambers, the composer, was with us on the tour and is himself a folk singer (among other things). So, sure enough, the Cornell audience not only got to hear a work by a living composer, but they got to hear that composer give an incredibly honest, open, and committed performance of his work.

As Evan sang the first two movements of The Old Burying Ground Suite, I think everyone on stage woke up just a bit more. He was inspiring, and we all wanted to join him in his performance, to meet him at the very high bar he had set. I know that Nick felt it, too, and I could see Ken, our conductor, gently easing everyone into the mood that was developing. We all seemed to walk a line between a relaxed performance and a heightened experience. It was thrilling.

I’ve written here before about the dangers of crossing the emotional line in performance, of going from telling a story and making your audience feel it to living and feeling the story yourself. Last night I walked that tightrope again, and this time experienced an incredible synergy of control and release of control. I will never cease to be amazed at the things I learn in this job about the way my brain functions…

One of the two movements I’m singing on the tour of The Old Burying Ground is called Emma; the epitaph used in this song is that of a very young girl:

Emma Spaulding
Daughter of Abel and Mary Anne
Died September 5th, 1847
Aged 2 years and 7 months
Sleep on, sweet babe, and take thy rest.
No sleep as sweet as thine, no rest sure.

The composer has set it beautifully, heart-breakingly, as you can imagine, and the more familiar I get with the piece the more I have delved into the voice of the character singing: her mother. Evan opens and closes the movement with spoken calls of Emma’s name, each with a subtext written in the score: where are you? are you there? Harp, shimmery strings, and an expansive interlude of brass and woodwinds work together to create a sound world that is equally mournful and peaceful. It is a truly masterful song, one that I loved the first time I saw the score.

Last night, about halfway through the song, I felt myself “going there.” The mood we had created had opened me emotionally, and I was starting to feel the loss of Emma personally. So I made a deal with myself: I would hold off the emotional onslaught until the last call of her name; at that moment my singing for the evening would be finished, and I could join the audience in truly experiencing the catharsis of the movement. I continued to sing, acting fully and and yet saying silly words in my head - rutabaga, hippopotamus, spatula - to keep me from getting farther across The Line. We came to the final section, a reprise of the opening, and I sang the last three phrases, each one a call of its own. “Emma?” Then the downbeat of the measure, my last word.

I was supposed to speak just after the downbeat, but my intake of breath was halted by the emotion welling in my chest, and my eyes filled with tears. At that moment, I was a woman asking a question to which I knew the answer. I had to force the word out of my mouth. “Emma?”

I made my way to my seat, slightly numb, and listened as Nick closed the Suite with a triumphant and uplifting epitaph, sung with joy and played with incredible energy by the orchestra:

“Oh, drop on my grave no tear,
But rejoice for the freed one
whose fetters lie here.”

It was an incredible honor to stand together with Evan and Nick and Ken and Keith (who read poems about the epitaphs, one of them his own) and the orchestra. A performance we wouldn’t soon forget. AND it was only half over! The orchestra went on to give a performance of Mahler’s 5th Symphony that was equally inspired and joyful and moving. Ken said he’d never had so much fun. This is an incredible group of students, and it’s been a wonderful tour. When they launched into “Hail to the Victors” for their encore, I was on my feet clapping with everyone else, smiling a huge smile and feeling a bit like a UM alum. Hmmm… honorary doctorate, maybe?

We’ll be doing it all again tomorrow night, only this time we’ll be at Carnegie Hall. If you’re in the city, please do come by. It’s a wonderful program that we can’t wait to share with you.

Corriam tutti!!

I’m in a hotel, in a comfortable chair at the window, looking out on the State Theater and listening to the wind. This day was filled with yet another icy drive and then six hours of music written approximately 220 years after the Mozart masterpiece I’ve been immersed in for the past three weeks. It hardly seems possible that 24 hours ago I was slinking out of yet another post-show party, headed home to get as much sleep as I could before moving on to this next job. New city, new collaborators, new concert...

But let me not get carried away waxing philosophical… Ma non perdiamci in vano! I’ve got a show to document! Time for bullet points.

* In the final dress rehearsal, there were two lines that I’d previously stumbled on over and over that I finally got right. One of them was in Act III, when (spoiler alert!) Marcellina and Bartolo have been revealed as Figaro’s parents. On Wednesday I finally said “Let’s go tell Madama and my uncle about our adventures!” in the correct order and in smoothly flowing Italian. The line that comes immediately after couldn’t have been more appropriate: Chi al par di me contento? - Who could be has happy as I am?!

* I hit most of the things I’d been struggling with and focusing on, but, of course, there were things I missed that had always been solid. Not many, at all, and overall I was very pleased. I didn’t quite get the Act II Finale down as well as I would have liked; that is one hell of a sing!! By Saturday I had learned how to keep my body calmer (more on this is a stagecraft post soon) and I was much happier with the result, but I think I’m going to need another run at the show before I’ll really make it through as well as I’d like.

* First “wardrobe malfunction” on Friday night: the uncooperative veil. In my zeal with the wedding veil in the opening scene, I managed to get it stuck in my wig! Uh-oh… quick! Switch to Multi-Voice Brain Mode! I kept on with the recit with Figaro, working all the while to get the veil out of my wig. One voice was making witty repartee in Italian, and another was saying, “Oh, so it’s going to be one of those nights, huh?” After a few lines, Figaro was standing in front of me and my line was Sei tu mio servo o no? - Are you my servant or not? As I said it, I pointed to my head, asking for his help! He got the hint, and we kept on with the scene. We missed one cute bit of blocking in dealing with the veil, but all in all we came out unscathed. MB was a wonderful stage partner at all times, but especially at the unpredictable moments. I feel blessed to have had such a wonderful partner for my first Susanna. Thank you, Mullethead!

* The Second: In Act IV, in the fit of pique that comes upon Susanna when Figaro is teasing her, I stormed around behind MB, resisting the urge to hit him with my fan. I turned on my heel to march Stage Left and sing my asides when BAM - I was on the boards. I managed to land on my softest parts, and so I wasn’t hurt, but I did break a nail. As one part of my head went on and somehow managed to keep singing (che smania, che furor! indeed), there was a voice that - honestly - worried about my nails! There was yet another voice that said “This is NOT the time to be thinking about your nails. Get back in the game!”

I wore a different veil at this point in the opera, and I’d been struggling with it throughout tech week. We finally had it secured for opening night, but as soon as I landed after the fall, it popped right off. I fought with that thing so much during rehearsals that it seemed fitting somehow that it wouldn’t cooperate in performance, either! I picked it up, did my best to get it back into my wig until the blessed moment when I got to throw it across the stage.

* I had friends in the audience for the final dress and opening night, and I found myself wondering how things were being received… They are both musicians, one a singer and one an instrumentalist; it’s always a bit of a head game having knowledgeable peers in the audience. It’s not just a matter of “will they like the show?” Knowing their areas of expertise or snobbery (stagecraft, musicality of a high degree, general love and knowledge of opera), every time I got back to my dressing room and had a brief ACB moment, I wondered… how was it going? I certainly didn’t change anything because of their presences; I just wondered. It was fun reviewing the show with them, and they told me they loved it. Whether they were being honest or just being kind, I was so grateful for their presence, feedback, support, friendly faces and shared brunches.

* Briefly noted: Singing “Deh vieni” in context was just as wonderful as I’d hoped. I was so proud to stand in the wings and hear my colleagues kicking ass on their arias. I ate a Clif bar every night during the Act II / Act III intermission. Cute shopping in the Grand Rapids area: Paperdoll! Tomorrow I’m buying another suitcase... Good night, Ann Arbor!!

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!!

Pre-game show

I had planned to write about all the stagecraft things I’ve learned on this gig, but my day has gotten away from me! I got a fantastic night of sleep, almost sleeping until noon, then spent the afternoon working on the program for the Sing For Hope concert. It’s going to be fantastic. March 2nd, UWS NYC, 3pm, be there.

About an hour ago my hands started getting clammy and my nerves started working, so I went to go start warming up my voice, hoping to settle down a bit. I’ve been humming and lip-trilling absent-mindedly (sp?) all day, but it was time for Phase One of my game day warm-up. (I promise another post with specifics, if you care…) It worked, mostly, and now I’m eating some black beans with polenta (my starch of choice these days), and gathering my things for a night at the theater! I didn’t get my cards done for opening night, so they will closing night cards, but I did pick up a few little gifts yesterday. I did manage to find a darling dress for the opening night party (pictures forthcoming, I hope), so I need to get changed soon. The question for tonight: wear my cute black pumps? or wear the snow boots and then change… dilemmas, I tell you.

I’m meeting TM in 45 minutes to give him his ticket for tonight, and then I’ll disappear into my dressing room to do my pin curls and complete my pre-game show: a bit more warming up, studying my notes, reviewing those lines that I managed to get right in the final dress but am still a bit nervous about, start praying that I’ll make it through that Act II Finale with a bit more grace tonight.

Here we go!!

Learned and Learning

To wrap up the year, here is a list of things I that learned in 2007 and things I am still learning:

* Boundaries are very important, both personal and professional. I’m learning how to say no, not just maybe. This applies to gigs, dates, projects, even auditions. I need to take time and think about how each “yes” will affect the big picture of what I want my path to look like, both my career path and my life path. I’m thinking about starting up with talk therapy again to help me with this new phase of my career and my life.

* Heartbreaks are inevitable. Good girlfriends are priceless.

* I’m enjoying learning how to be environmentally responsible. Living in NYC, my carbon footprint is already lower than average, but I’ve started timing my showers (4-6 minutes most days), carrying stylish Envirosax in all my purses instead of using store plastic bags for purchases, taking non-stop flights - or the train! - whenever possible, unplugging my electronics. It feels good.

* Writing an item on my “To Do” list over and over does not get it accomplished any faster. I’m determined not to carry-over any “to do’s” into 2008, so this next week should be a productive one (she says hopefully)! I still owe many of you your Fractured Atlas receipts for your generous Bhakti Project donations; rest assured you will have them well before tax-time, and likely before you get your tax documents from your employers!

*As much as I love to perform, nothing beats seeing a show. Indie rock, Broadway, opera, symphony, recital… I saw some wonderful performances this year and hope to see more next year.

*Hard work pays off, but usually with more hard work to come. A satisfying cycle.

Here is a list of favorite posts from the year. Many of them seem to involve discoveries, too, so I’ve listed the post and what I feel it says I learned. It was a year of growth and learning, like any good year should be.

Beware explosive consonants - What I learned is right there in the title.
The Song of the Lark - We read to see our lives through others’ eyes.
Blocking - Some things I learned long ago are still with me.
Kitchen Sink - I blog to see my life through the lens of the Moment.
A Day In the Life - I love my job and my life in NYC.
Home, On the Road - I can also live well on the road.
Doing vs. Being - Just Be It.
Dear Friend, Leaving So Soon - Some people never leave you.
Lifelines - See above about girlfriends.
My Sweet Manhattan Hometown - Nothing beats a live performance!
The Evolution of the Headshot - Change is good.
Shimmering, Sparkling - It’s ok to be bold and daring!
a Dream - It is possible to be a bit too focused...
Finale - All good things come to an end.

2007 was the year of my Met Debut: Part 1: Leading Up, Part 2: Performance, and Part 3: After Party

And that of a small recital project that ate my life. Here is the Bhakti Project Year in Review. What did I learn through this experience? Hopefully that will be evident next year as the project continues, but mostly I learned, as with all of these things, that I have a lot to learn.

Happy New Year, everyone!!

Volpone pics

Finally got some pictures from Volpone up on my website! You can check them out here: ACB.com Photo Page.

As I continue to dream up the next incarnation of my website, a more streamlined photo page is definitely on the list of "must haves." Incorporating this blog into ACB.com, is on the list, too, I think. Major overhaul!! Bring it on.

Those of you in Boulder, ask my parents if they remember seeing this look ever... I was a "histrionic" child, afterall! (Love you, Dad!)

FriPod on Wednesday coming up...

My Sweet Manhattan Home Town

I think it’s safe to say that Saturday’s recital will, as I texted some friends after the show, go down in my memory as one of my most special evenings of music. It was one of those nights where, even though there were small flubs onstage, there was a perfect convergence of spirit and music, of musicians and friends. I consider myself privileged to be surrounded by such a wonderful group of performers (this is true of all my WTOC colleagues; more on this soon). Generous with each other onstage and with the audience, and in possession of beautiful voices and stellar musicianship, they are sweet and true friends I will miss dearly – until our next collaboration!

That was the general atmosphere on Saturday: it was something special, and we all felt it. Several audience members said it was the best concert they’d seen in a long time, with LB even going so far as to say it was the best concert he’d seen “ever ever ever EVER!” Both in the audience and on the stage, there were a lot of laughs and not a few tears. In short, we did our jobs - and created something special in the doing.

But of course, there were a few individual things that will stand out in my memory as unique moments onstage, not the least of which was the moment my dress threatened to give me the reputation of Wolf Trap’s Janet Jackson. Wardrobe malfunction!!

I wore my dark purple Nadia Tarr dress, the famous wrap dress that has been touted here ad nauseum. It was twisted (but not tied) into a sleeveless configuration, with the ties meeting in a loose twisty knot in front. About a third of the way through the first verse of “Another 100 People,” I felt that my very active breathing - a necessity for this very fast and very low quasi-belted song - was beginning to loosen the knot! And sure enough, two deep rib-expanding breaths later… undone!

It was at this moment that I truly understood the brain’s immense capacity for multi-tasking. Not only did my hands manage to catch the ties as they fell, but I was able to retie the knot and give a knowing “oops!” smile to the audience – all without missing a beat, quite literally. Not only that, but it was the best version, the most ensemble-y together, that Steve and I had ever done. I still don’t know how I did it, how I managed not to fall on my face in that, my most difficult of pieces. I can only think of one of the opera maxim’s I’ve picked up along the way: “That’s why we rehearse.”

(My host, who was in the audience, said that it just looked like the sash of the dress had come undone. Not such a big deal, right? But all my girlfriends in attendance knew the mechanics of the dress, and knew that it could have been, shall we say, quite the show had I missed those ties!)

Something else about going into “auto-pilot” while dealing with the dress: I reverted back to my original interpretation of the song, rather than telling the story that Steve (and others who know Company better than I do) had worked to get out of me. “Another 100 People” is sung by a woman who is in love with the hustle and bustle of the millions of people in NYC, who is amazed at how folks manage to find each other there, and who relishes her encounters, even the missed ones. I’m not there yet. I’m still a bit overwhelmed, unsure of my place in the bustle, nervous that it will only be missed connections and “will you pick me up or do I meet you there or shall we let it go?” I’ve only lived there a year…

It all made for a rendition of “Another 100 People” that was much more intense than we had rehearsed, raw, even. As I walked past Steve to leave the stage, he pulled me to him and quietly whispered, “It’s all going to be ok.” My host said that though the audience had no idea what he said to me, it was a very sweet moment. For me, though, it caught me completely by surprise. I had opened myself very wide in singing that song, and that little touch of kindness, of love, cut right to the quick. I was grateful that I had four numbers before my next appearance onstage…

We all retired to the beautiful home of one of WTOC’s generous donors for the afterparty, and as I refueled at the food table the lady of house came to chat a bit. She said, “you’re the only one who didn’t say where you grew up,” referring to the fact that the other four folks onstage, in their blurbs about New York, had referenced their hometowns. (NYC is Steve’s hometown; small town Texas, Pennsylvania, and Mississippi were also represented). She was right, of course, due in large part to the fact that I don’t really have a “hometown.” Growing up in the military, I moved around every few years and have continued to do so as an adult. I went to school in Georgia and Massachusetts, was a married homeowner in Washington, I have family in Georgia and Colorado, and I’ve worked in six states and internationally in the past two years. But I have family in New York, too, and friends, and this is where I’ll spend most of the upcoming season, so the City is home for me now.

It is home; whether it becomes Home is yet to be seen…

Doing vs. Being

Last week, I went to my first couple of Bikram yoga classes, persuaded by YL, one of our pianist-coaches. For those unfamiliar, Bikram-style yoga is practiced in a heated room, usually about 105º F; it is very aerobic, and suffice to say you sweat like crazy. It’s very Westernized yoga, to my way of thinking, in that just about every spiritual element is removed, and it is very goal-oriented. The instructor stands at the front of the room, like an aerobics instructor, urging class members to push and go and do.

It was interesting, and I’m glad I went. If nothing else, it kick-started me back into my own practice – the only way to get over those sore muscles is to stretch them out again!

The classes also gave me an insight into performing, believe it or not, or, at least, into the type of performer I enjoy watching and working with. As I looked around the room in the Bikram class (easy to do, since there is a mirror along the front wall, another thing you’d never see in a more Eastern tradition), I could quickly pick out the people who were eager to show what they can do. They had looks of determination on their faces, striving to achieve the most, the best, the hardest; looking to prove they can do it, and hoping to get a word of praise from the instructor. They were Doing.

Then there were those who were only there for themselves, working with their bodies. Some were struggling, some were not, but all of these people had a more gentle and peaceful air. Calm. Being. I enjoyed being class with them. I had to work harder to keep my focus off of the Doing people, which distracted me from my own attempts at Being (while literally dripping with sweat and willing my low blood pressure not to get any lower!).

When I talked to YL about this on the way home, she knew just what I meant and immediately understood the parallel to performing. Some singers get out there and Do whatever they can to make an impression, whereas others just Be. (I know that’s the wrong conjugation, but bear with me…)

Saturday night we had our first WTOC performance, the Steve Blier-led Berlin Night Life recital. (Pictures and a sound-clip over at Kim’s WTOC blog.) Seeing my colleagues on the stage, as well as observing them in our Volpone rehearsals, I realized joyfully that everyone here falls into the Being category! These singers love their work, and when they walk out onstage you can see them just opening themselves to the audience. They seem to do nothing differently in front of an audience of 400 than they would for an audience of 5. It was as if each one of them said:

“Here I Am. Here is the music, the story; I hope you enjoy yourself, because I sure am…”

Met Debut Weekend: The Performance

(Part 2 of 3... so far!)

Friday… Rehearsal with my pianist for Saturday’s OSNY Finals (I won’t keep you in suspense and say now that I didn’t place, but am very happy with how it went.); she had some wonderful advice to get me through a tough spot in the Bach, and we talked about how to negotiate the transition between these two very disparate pieces.

Home to rest a bit and collect my things for opening night:
* a light robe to wear while getting my makeup down and to wear over my costume if I need to eat
* my dressing room kit with toothbrush and paste, wig cap and pins, cough drops, mints, basic “street” makeup to put on after washing off the heavy stage stuff, Dove cloths with which to wash said heavy stage stuff, and other little things;
* cards and gifts (most of these are still unwritten… maybe they’ll be Closing Night gifts!)
* and, of course, the dress and shoes for the party afterwards!

The Artists’ Area was humming with excitement (and a bit of controlled frenzy), so I dropped off my few written cards and then settled into my dressing room (which I share with LW and PR, who is singing roles in Angelica and Schicchi) to do my pin-curls. S started on my makeup, when one of those moments you dream about happened. The door opened, and the gentleman from the stage door, who had been delivering cards and gifts to all the dressing rooms, came through with a huge, gorgeous bouquet of roses… and came to set them at my station! I said, “Are those really for me?!” Indeed they were, and they thrilled me just as much as the lovely bottle of champagne from Mo. Levine! (Whom they were from is my own secret for now…)

Visits in the dressing room from Met staffers JF and JM, checking in to say “toi toi” and happy debut and to see if I needed anything! A pinch, maybe?! The excitement settled a into realization of the magnitude of the moment when JF asked me to sign several copies of the playbill; most of the rest of the cast had signed already, and seeing not just my name but my signature among theirs’ was humbling.

Into costume, and at the call of 8 minutes until curtain, my YLT and I headed up to our bridge to walk through our blocking on last time. We settled in at the center of the bridge, and I held on to Tony for dear life! Not out of fear of the height this time, but because in seconds, the curtain was going to go up and we would be on our way!

And so we did. Tony and I hit all our “marks,” stayed in the light, stayed in tempo, and then, just like that – we were done. Next, what I didn’t get to do at the dress rehearsal: take a bow. Oh man… Can you say deer in the headlights?! I’m afraid I gave an ugly, ungraceful bow, because all I could think about was where I was!! I think I did much better at the second show last night…

Time to shift gears, wash my face and trade my red dress for a habit. LW and I dressed in our matching costumes, and when I reached into the bag with my name on it to get my cross, I noticed that it was gone. Figuring she just grabbed the wrong necklace, I said, “Hey, LW, you’ve got my cross, but since they’re the same, I’ll just wear yours.” No problem. But then I noticed her clothes piled in the bottom of “my” costume rack (where our clothes get hung changes every night, so it can get a little confusing in there…). I took a look at her, and noticed that her habit was longer than usual, so long, in fact, that it was rather puddled at her feet. I looked at mine, and realized I had a high-water habit. Yep, we’d put on each others’ costume!

With about ten minutes until the call to places, we did a quick switcheroo with our dresser’s help, laughing all the while and saying what a great story this would make for the Sirius interview! (Of course, we totally forgot it once we were there!)

It worked out really beautifully that I got my debut good wishes and “toi toi’s” for Tabarro, so that when Angelica came around, it got to be all about LW. Her first step onstage, her first bow. We shared this debut, but we each got our Moment.

PBO notes

Before I get to anything else, here’s the answer to the “what’s up, Bach” question from last week. (Sorry for the pun; expect more, since I’m with my dad for a week…) I can’t find my source, so now I’m wondering if I made this up, but somewhere I read that the last third of the soprano-baritone duet in the E-flat Magnificat (Virga Jesse floruit) was completed by a student of Bach’s, from J.S.’s sketches. (Meaning, he wrote a sort of “outline” for the music and the student filled it in.) Stephen Stubbs seemed to know about it, too, so maybe I’m not totally off base. But regardless, the last two pages seem to be written in a different musical “language,” so much so that I had a hard time learning the notes!

I’ve gotten to the point with Bach where I can look at a melisma (long run of notes) and say, “Ok, this is that kind of Bach run; got it.” I know Bach’s language, and don’t have to think too much as I’m learning a new piece. Just like verbal language, musical languages have characteristics and qualities that are unique to individual composers. Mozart, Britten, Reich, Weill. These composers all have languages that are their own, easily recognizable and, once you’ve mastered them, easily read.

But this?! I was lost. I had to learn the final melisma note by note, analyzing the harmonic structure, playing around with the phrasing, trying anything to get the notes to stick. So strange! As Stephen put it, when he heard it for the first time, “Hmm, I’m not sure Bach would have done that.”

Can anyone verify that there’s some truth to this? I know that the E-flat Magnificat was written first (Bach later took out the more specific Nativity movements to make it less seasonal and transposed it down to D Major to create the version most often performed today); why would someone else have finished a movement at that point in Bach’s life? Of course, I know modern composers who have asked students/collaborators to finish compositions, so maybe this is more common practice than we think. Ideas?

Other Messiah blurbs:

In “The Trumpet Shall Sound,” there is a phrase that gets passed back and forth between the trumpet and the violins. I noticed at the dress rehearsal that the violins copied BB’s ornaments, and I thought they’d rehearsed and marked in what he was going to play. But then in the first performance, he played something different – and so did they! He mixed it up every night, and they were all right there with him, literally “playing” along. It was a moment I looked forward to every night: Stump the Violins, if you will!

I had one of those moments every singer dreads: I got lost! It was during the first full Messiah performance, and, of course, during “If God be for us,” the aria I know the least. I started to sing the end to the second melisma when I was in the middle of the first. I had about four measures of complete floundering! Ack!! I made eye contact with Stephen, as if to say “Help!” but what could he do? We had to keep going… I had to laugh, though, when I got to the end of the phrase and looked ahead to see what was next. The text? “Who is he that condemneth?” Ha! I sang that line a bit tongue in cheek, and I could have sworn I heard a small chuckle in the audience, too!

Ah, the joys of live performance…

Technique in Action

Like I said, I’m going to leave reviews of the three operas I saw this week to other folks. I have opinions, of course, but I realized that these singers are, essentially, my peers. Sure, most of them are a few steps above me on the ladder, but regardless, it’s probably best not to critique my colleagues.

That said… (You knew I wasn’t going to leave it at that, didn’t you?!) The one thing I’ll say is this. Every one of the voices that moved me this week had one thing in common: They were seamless. From top to bottom and all the notes in between, there wasn’t a hitch in the voice. I think this is a real mark of a top professional, finding the ways to make the weaker parts of your voice (and we all have them) blend in with your “money notes.” I can't think of a role that stays on the money notes all the time, not even the trick-pony role of the Queen of the Night. We have to sing all the notess!

I was struck by how rangy almost all of the lead roles were this week. Mezzos and baritones had high notes, sopranos and tenors had low ones. And in my opinion, a strong, well-produced low note coming out of a soprano, be she a spinto or a light coloratura, is pretty darned impressive. (Same goes for the other voices, natch.) We assume, rightly or wrongly, that the soprano will have killer high notes; it should be a given. But if you really want to wow them? Get your low notes and all those pesky passaggio notes (the ones between registers) solid and smooth and lined up.

One other thought. At one of the operas, I was sitting close enough to see the singers’ technique in more detail, rather than just hearing it. Again, the thing in common: they really opened up and let ‘er rip. Their throats were so open and free of tension and the voices just soared out. I told my voice students (and the folks in the choir at my parents’ church) to imagine that their throats were as wide as their shoulders as a way to get them to free up any neck tension. Watching these singers, I felt as if their necks really were as wide as their shoulders! And the sound was wonderful…

Next week I’ll see Boheme at City Opera and hopefully I’ll make it to Idomeneo at the Met in the next couple of weeks. I’m also dying to see The Fantasticks and A Chorus Line and Wicked and …

But for now: sleep.

Gioconda

So, instead of staying home tonight and writing about the weekend and last night's opera extravaganza, I'm going to the Met again! This time I'll be seeing my friend and colleague, RL, in his debut!

Then Thursday I'll see Semele at NYCO. Three operas in one week! I'll leave the reviews to others (mostly); I'll just talk about what people were wearing!

(PS Speaking of clothes, I got a new haircut today that makes me feel like I need a new wardrobe. Ever get one of those? H&M here I come!)

Spectacle

More thoughts tomorrow, but for now I'll just say that it was awesome. Thousands of people in Times Square, and all of them watching an opera, even if it was only as they walked through. And it was quiet! Well, quiet for Times Square.

Totally cool.

You know what else was cool? Picking up the program and seeing my name - spelled correctly! - on the roster. Yeah, that's cool.