A young(ish) opera singer's random thoughts and observations.

Wednesday 27 February 2013

The Gospel according to Maxwell

Our Lucretia rehearsals are approaching the point of complete runs of the show. To mark this occasion, our director sat us down to have a talk about opera in general. Just one of the perks of having Donald Maxwell at the helm of this production: he's always in a bit of a 'teacher' mode, or as he himself said today:

'I wouldn't want you to get hung up on the hurdles you have to jump. There are a lot of hurdles in opera. My job is to hopefully remove as many of these as I can, so you can focus on giving a good performance.'

While he was speaking specifically about his approach to directing Lucretia (where the hurdles in question are complex music, the looming title, a wordy libretto and the odd slow scene where at first glance there doesn't seem to be much happening), I think it's a good way of describing his attitude as a teacher and mentor.

Here's what struck me in today's talk (the title of this post is what Donald later called the session):

On the subject of acting in opera, Donald (having a reputation as stage-animal extraordinaire) said that there are remarkably few people who naturally integrate it seamlessly into their performance so that you don't see any hint of the mechanics involved in singing. Names mentioned include Natalie Dessay and Suzanne Murphy. He once said that to achieve that level you need either phenomenal skill or tremendous courage, preferably both. So what about the vast majority who don't have it as a natural gift? The answer seems to be osmosis. It only takes one great actor in a cast to elevate everyone else, just by offering what comes as natural to them on stage, the others pick it up and go with it. Donald described what was a hugely beneficial part of his own career: singing duets, especially with a partner whose skill set complemented his own. In duets you are constantly watching the other person, focussing on them, rather than yourself. Then you can incorporate what you see them do into your own palette of skills. When performing arias, on the other hand, all you end up thinking is:
'Well, I've stood still for a while now, I think I'll move my arm... Oh, that doesn't really work, does it? Maybe if I add the other... Oh dear, that's awful! What am I doing?'
At this point we all burst out laughing, because I think that thought process is terrifyingly familiar to all singers!
One final observation on acting is one that's easy to forget: 'Sometimes simple is enough.'

We now have a fairly set blocking for the opera, and what Donald wants from us now is to inhabit it and give our takes on these characters, within the framework of the sometimes precise moves we've been given. He says it's easy to forget in conservatoires, that it's not a test, it's a performance. In every audience there's always someone who doesn't know the opera, may never have been to an opera, didn't read the programme, etc. That's who we're performing for. And we should enjoy it!

He encouraged us to develop skills that will increase our employability: diligence in preparation, openness in rehearsal, readiness to try even the strangest of ideas, courtesy, etc. The days of divas are over, what makes people want to work with you is your dependability. On the subject of employment in general, he also said to take whatever work comes your way, as long as you can sing it. There's no point getting hung up on fachs and ideal roles, as you may never get your dream part. As for offers you think may be an odd choice for your voice, physique or character... Well, the person offering you the job wants you, so who are you to second guess them?

Then came a difficult topic: what if you're not succeeding? What if you're not a star a year out of college? Donald reckons there are three questions you need to ask yourself:
1. Am I improving technically?
2. Am I getting work?
3. Am I enjoying what I do?
If you have 2 out of the 3, you're fine. With just 1, give yourself 12 months and then see where you are. If it hasn't improved, then maybe it's time to...

OK, that was the sermon, now for a reward: quotes and stories!

'Opera can often turn into a person delivering a lot of intensity while singing, and that's not the same as acting.' Those who know the opera may remember there is a section where the Male Chorus describes Tarquinius' thoughts as he comes to the decision to go to Rome and test Lucretia's virtue. After we ran the scene for the first time, Donald commented on my performance: 'This is one of those scenes that can turn into you acting out intensity.' To be fair, I was mostly listening to our tenor and gazing intently out into the middle distance... He offered a solution:
'Tarquinius is drunk, and you know how when you're drunk you get these ideas that seem so good at the time. Maybe think of yourself as a lad on a night out in Cardiff who's just thought: I want chips! And I know where they make the best chips - Swansea! That's what I'll do, I'll go to Swansea! And while I'm there I think I'll have a kebab... Yeah! That'll be great!'
For those of you who see the show, try to forget that. It's a good scene, and the audience don't need to know I'm thinking of chips and a kebab...

On singing 'goodnight' over and over: 'I think the intention for Tarquinius is: Wow, she's even better looking than I remembered, I came here with a purpose, but this is going to be fun as well! You know, the usual baritone stuff.'

On NAs: 'Ah yes, there's always that moment when a cast member shuffles over to the DSM and whispers: Just so you know, I will succumb to a sudden short-term illness next Tuesday between 4 and 6 PM'

'If you're not getting any notes from the director or conductor, don't assume they're not watching you, allow yourself to believe it's because you're doing everything right.'

Saturday 23 February 2013

When to say 'no'

For those waiting for more Donald Maxwell stories, rest assured I am writing them down, but on this particular occasion I'm going to write about something else: when to say 'yes' and when to say 'no'.

Now I feel I should start off by saying that I personally have no idea, and tend to err on the side of 'yes', and it's all been fine so far, in fact if I hadn't jumped on an opportunity in December by (perhaps foolishly) accepting a concert with only one day to learn half of Bach's Christmas Oratorio, I would probably not be in the fortunate position of having an agent. Let me stress however that the whole adventure was a very stressful experience and a bit of a gamble: I learn music fairly quickly these days, but I'm no sight-reading machine and I don't feel comfortable if I haven't spent time to prepare to the point of excess. Despite my discomfort during the gig in question, however, I delivered and scored a significant win!

You'd think this was a great argument for the 'always say yes' approach. Maybe not... I was recently told off for taking on too much, and although this didn't refer to my singing per se, but rather my volunteer work for Opera'r Ddraig during a time of audition madness (which is still going on, in fact, I'm writing this on the train to London for 2 auditions in 1 day!). At the time I thought little of it, I fulfilled my commitments to Ddraig, sang two auditions to the best of my ability (I mean this in a good way: I sang as well or better than I ever have in auditions... Didn't succeed in one, but that just goes to show a singer's career is rarely an out and out success story), and all was well. But now, a couple of weeks of rehearsals and auditions later, I'm tired.

Not vocally, but mentally. With a recent injury stopping me from getting out on the water to paddle, I find my life revolving solely on singing, and to be honest I've had enough. If I'm not rehearsing or auditioning, I'm learning new repertoire for upcoming projects, travelling, looking for accommodation for the Summer rehearsal period, or going to the opera (fun, but not really a moment of 'switching off'). I even find myself talking to friends, or what's worse my girlfriend, only about singing...

So I've decided to do something that I have never done before: pull out of a gig without any health reason. In hindsight I should have cancelled the moment it became apparent that the concert was to be the day after the final show of Lucretia (of 3 in a row) and leave me barely a day off before starting rehearsals for The Bear with a contemporary song cycle looming as well. I feel bad, but my diary is still not really my own until I leave college, so a degree of prioritising is necessary and as I'm learning the value of taking it easy every now and again, I am beginning to appreciate the value of saying 'no' when necessary, and actually trying to preempt potential crises.

Is there a point I'm driving towards? Um... Not really. When do you say 'yes' and when do you say 'no'? Who knows... Say 'yes' whenever you can, and 'no' whenever you have to.

Saturday 9 February 2013

Learning to think operatically.

As college life settles into the familiar steady tempo of the Spring opera production, outside the rehearsal room I can feel that the dreaded 'real world' is drawing ever nearer. This will be my last big opera at the RWCMD, apart from Walton's The Bear which I am lucky enough to be singing in the composer's house in Ischia over Easter... but that's far away and doesn't really involve the college production machine, so for all intents and purposes The Rape of Lucretia will be my last hurrah as a student here in Cardiff.

We've just completed the first week of rehearsals and have a good sketch of Act 1 as a starting point for when we move into larger rehearsal spaces. It's a challenging piece, with difficult music, a libretto thick with metaphor and an overarching problem with the title: it gives everything away! The audience know what's going to happen from the moment they see the show advertised. Then they read the programme and know that it'll be my character doing the deed. In fact they may be disappointed with the first act, because not that much really happens, and with that title hanging over the whole thing the static slow-paced action turns into quite a tense experience. You know there's a storm brewing, but can't really see or hear it, there's just something in the air, but you still sort of hope the weather-man has got it wrong...

Or at least that's how it feels in my head, how I'd like the audience to feel. And yet as a performer it's so easy to fall into the trap of playing a villainous violent arrogant rapist from the outset. The Act 2 rape scene dominates the entire piece for me. It's so intense that I found it difficult to learn quickly, reading it drained me after half an hour, I couldn't get through more than a couple of pages a day... And I wouldn't normally call myself a slow learner!

It's learnt now, thankfully, and we'll be working on it when I return from auditions next week. I have to say, even after only one week, working on this opera has been a great experience and I can see it's going to teach me more about stagecraft than I've learned in my 10 years in music colleges! This is thanks to one man, our director: Donald Maxwell. 

For those who don't know who Donald is, perhaps this story will give you an idea: We were discussing the musical difficulties of Britten's score, and Donald said:
'It's not uncommon for things to go wrong in this music, even in shows, so it's important to know how to get back in. You may see this in today's dress rehearsal of Lulu, which is a much trickier opera.' 
This lead me to ask if he had been in Lulu himself (it's not very often performed), to which he said that he had. As a joke I asked:
'Donald, are there any operas you haven't been in?'
'Well yes... There are... Although I can't seem to think of any right now.'
While I'm pretty sure Donald isn't out to compete with Domingo in how many roles he has under his belt, he has a wealth of experience that few singers can match, and this stems from the fact that he is in constant demand as a brilliant singing actor, and having seen him on stage I can attest first hand that he is formidable in both aspects of that term.

So that's our director! It's my first time being directed by a singer, and it's straight into being directed by someone who's performed my role, no less... And it is fantastic, a true learning experience, because Donald relates what we do in rehearsal to other applications outside our production. Every session is crammed with useful tips and universal life-savers, as well as illustrative stories. I'll be writing down the gems to post here as regularly as I can. Here's the first one:

 Have the courage to not engage with other people.

What? Sacrilege! Everyone knows these days it's 'director's opera' and that naturalism rules! Well, as Donald put it: 'Natural doesn't always work for opera.' There's a certain energy and communication one needs in opera, which is where the phrase 'think operatically' comes from. This energy and communication need to reach the audience, who are separated from the action by the stage, the pit and however far they're sitting (depending on how cheap their seats). They want to see our faces (I know I do) and although in real life we always look at the person we're talking to, if you put that on stage and have to turn side-on, you're cutting yourself off from half the audience, who'll only see the back of your head. 

Of course, there's a line, and Donald is the last person to advocate 'park & bark'. You try and keep it as natural as possible with a clever use of angles and stage geography, but as a performer, you sometimes have to have the courage to deliver a line with your back to the character you're speaking to and do so with supreme confidence in the fact that you're communicating strongly enough for the audience to not even notice it's not quite naturalistic.

Still sounds artificial? Well, it wouldn't if you'd seen Donald demonstrating it. In fact it often looked more natural his way than the naturalistic way. 

This stretches also to how we time our movement and speech/singing. There was one moment where Collatinus had to deliver a line stoping someone else, which involved him standing up from his seat. Well, in real life we'd stand up as we say 'Stop!', as would probably be the case in straight theatre. In opera, it looks a lot better if you stand up and then deliver the line.

I think this has to do with how time passes differently when there's music involved, especially as singing is for the most part slower than speech. Keeping our bodies moving at their normal speeds means that they will simply get ahead of our words and we'll either end up stuck waiting for the words to catch up, or we'll have to put in extra movement. 

Opera's never going to be naturalistic, and those who try and make it so are fighting a losing battle. It's all about how close you can get to something the audience relates to, which is usually something that looks natural and harmonious. But if we're taking speech and cranking it a notch up by turning it into singing, surely we have to do the same with movement and gesture, so that they all match.

I could go on, but I've already expanded what was a couple of offhand comments by Donald into a huge debate with myself... I''m still at the stage where I have to think these things through, for him it's just the way he is. 

It's going to be a great 6 weeks!