What is it about song...?

Just to air my brain out after last night's song recital with my year group in college, I thought I'd jot down some thoughts I had on the differences between performing lieder and opera.

I don't get to perform songs as much as I'd like to, especially the more intense ones, in a proper lieder recital setting. Yesterday's affair wasn't in fact that kind of setting, as it was in the RWCMD Foyer, a fairly traffic-heavy venue. It's amazing, however, how a performance of intimate songs can transform such a busy space into an oasis of calm for an hour, especially as some of the audience were just passing through and actually stopped to listen.

I think that's the magic of lieder: they draw the audience in, rather than emote in an over the top way, as opera (arguably) does. An aria tends to impress more than move people. Performing song therefore feels completely different to me, than performing opera. In fact, while I do enjoy concerts of operatic excerpts with piano, compared with a recital it feels like an incomplete art form. One can (and should always aim to) perform a song to its full potential in a recital, whereas opera without production values and an orchestra will only ever be a pale facsimile.

Singing songs, I also feel much more exposed and vulnerable. The relationship between singer and pianist has to be that of shared thought, emotion and musicality, and the slightest disagreement instantly comes across and kicks us back into the real world. But if it works, the feeling is almost like creating a new reality, conveying the full impact of a feeling or significant moment. The actual performance space melts away, and all that's left is a feeling that the audience have been invited to inhabit the performers' shared mind. Looking across the audience after my colleagues finished their songs, I could see many glazed looks, but not out of disinterest, but from pure focus.

It was a fantastic evening, a joy to perform and then listen to everyone else. I must also say that it felt great to present the audience with Polish repertoire and see that Karłowicz and Paderewski could give the likes Wolf or Tchaikovsky a run for their money.

Also, I can't wait to do Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen with orchestra in May!

Where is the bile in classical music?

OK, so this is not a singing-related post, but these thoughts do (I think) inform me as an artist...

A friend told me recently that as said artists we should expose ourselves to as diverse a spectrum of art as we can. In fact, it's a line I hear a lot, but I'm afraid that what with my workload, I tend to revert to my tried and tested musical, theatrical and cinematographic tastes when I do have the time to relax. Luckily (or unluckily?) these are pretty far removed from opera, or in fact classical music in general. The music I listen to, specifically, helps me relax, clear my mind, or process my thoughts and feelings in a way that I can't seem to achieve with classical music. I need lyrics, but when listening to vocal music performed by classically trained singers, I tend to analyse more than listen. So for myself, my choice of listening music works well.

I recently had the rare chance of seeing one of my favourite bands perform live. This allowed me to see how they affect not just me, but other people. Also, a live performance carries a different impact. I know who's playing, but at a rock concert I don't know what they will perform, how I will react to the song choices, how the energy in the hall will flow...

Listening to New Model Army perform, seeing them sweep up the crowd with their fire and passion (impressive, with the band being in its 31st year of existence), I got to thinking about what emotions and experiences this music taps into, to move all these people, myself included, to a state of euphoria that at times borders on frenzy. And how does that relate to what I do? Will I ever reach an audience on that level, or is the music I perform too far removed, too irrelevant to pluck that string in a listener's mind or heart?

NMA's music draws on some very powerful emotions, with the lyrics quite often bordering on poetry (or at least that's what I like to fool myself into thinking). Disillusion, frustration, a sense of loss, futility, anger, resentment... and yet throughout all this negativity, a constant thread of appreciation and marvel at the beauty of life. Bilious music, often yes, but very human, and therefore moving and strengthening.

What emotions does opera tap into? Is there anything in operatic or song repertoire that draws on similar themes? What are the angry operas? The songs of revolution? The classical music of outrage? Or is it that through the sheer complication of form that composers cannot hope to reach those layers of people's minds in the same way as a self-taught musician from Bradford?

Banff OAT 2012

The Banff Centre's Opera as Theatre program information has been announced, and singers can now apply.

The repertoire choices for next year look very interesting: Mozart's Don Giovanni and The Secret Garden by Stephen McNeff. Glancing at the information provided on the Banff Centre's website, I can already see some changes from last year:

- the two productions will not share the same stage, but be in separate theatres

- the role of the chorus seems to be reduced to singing in just Don Giovanni, which is not a huge chorus part, as opposed to last year's Lillian Alling in which the chorus got to perform some very exciting scenes, and played a big part in the overall drama of the piece

The implication seems to be that roles will be single-cast (otherwise why the need for understudies?), which is a continuation from this year, although hopefully will be implemented differently, drawing from our experiences and feedback (for those new to my blog, a pretty much full account of OAT 2011 can be found in my posts from July and August, with a summing up here).

All in all I'd say it's an exciting choice of repertoire, and I'm adding this one to my list of places to audition for Summer 2012...

Link to the OAT 2012 website (with audition dates, application forms, etc): here

'Me? My name's Aristaeus, a humble personal trainer...'

Calls had been coming in over the last couple of days, warning me that it was more than likely I would be going on in the near future. I suppose I'm rather thankful for these calls, for although they did give a rather stressful quality to the end of the college week, at least I had the opportunity to make sure I was as prepared as I could be, should the summons to perform come. It did come, on Friday evening, with the show being the next day in Linlithgow. I got sent details of my flight from Bristol, booked my train and bus tickets for the morning, and set about stressing myself within inches of a nervous breakdown. This anxiety-fest was rudely interrupted by a visit from my former flatmate, who was visiting Cardiff and popped in for a catch-up. I was very thankful for the distraction, and after driving her home I somehow managed to fall asleep reasonably early.

Saturday, October 1st

I wake up at 6am, half an hour before I'd set my alarm to wake me. On the journey I decide to keep myself distracted rather than obsessively run my lines over and over. I rationalize this by telling myself that overdoing it might just fool me into thinking I don't know the lines and need even more time to prepare. Instead I'd rather assume that I'm secure, and any misgivings I may have are related to normal stress, rather than lack of preparation.

I am picked up at the airport by the company manager, and we drive to pick up the assistant director, buy some lunch and then we're off to Linlithgow. After settling into the venue, grabbing a much needed coffee, myself and the director set about going through my scenes at about 2pm. A couple of notes, a change or two, but we get through it in good time, and by 3.30 I'm released for lunch before the rest of the cast arrive at 4.30. We then all do a dialogue run, which the principals whizz through (in a double speed fast forwarded cassette tape fashion) only slowing down to do my bits at normal speed. They have good fun with it too, trying to trip each other up, taking advantage of the rehearsal being in a music room (the more obvious puns accented by a ba-dum-dum-tshhhh on the drum kit) and the jovial atmosphere helps me loosen up a bit.

At this point I have to say how grateful I am to the cast and crew for being marvelously supportive and helpful. I instantly felt I was part of the team and that the team was there to catch me should I stumble, but on the other hand had a lot of faith in me as well. Thankfully the dialogue run and short onstage rehearsal (dances, choreographed scenes and those with technical issues) go well and while not being overly confident I felt sure that although I may not give the performance of my life, I won't be an obstacle for the others and won't derail the show. I should also mention that I got heaps of support by way of email, facebook and text messages, all of which made me feel better about the whole thing, thank you all!

We wrap up rehearsal at 6.30 and the cast relax around the buffet that has been provided. I can't bear the sight of food, so focus on doing my pre-show pacing routine. Having been on my feet for over 12 hours I can feel the tiredness creeping in behind my eyes, but the mounting adrenaline is enough to keep it at bay, and come showtime I'm sure to be buzzing with excitement. Strangely, the director seems more confident than I do, and she decides to watch the show from the audience, rather than stay in the wings to be ready to prompt me, should I freeze. Oh well, I guess I have no choice but to be perfect...

Perfection is not achieved, of course, but the show goes well, with only one moment of slowing down to remember the opening lines of my monologue and one near-trip-up backing up upstage and forgetting there's a step there. These moments may stick out in my mind as MISTAKES, but as is often the case, they probably didn't read half as strongly as I fear they did. I also need to rethink my hydration strategy before my first scene, as I was not quite prepared for the heat and dryness onstage, which is not a worry one wants to be dealing with in an aria. Oh well, I'll know next time.

In the end it was great fun!

Also, I had let a couple of friends from Edinburgh know I was performing and they managed to make it, so it was lovely to get to chat to them after the show. Once they left, however, tiredness hit me like a sledgehammer. I tried hard to keep myself going at the post-show reception (wine helped) and the bus journey to Glasgow (beer just made me more tired), and after checking in to my hotel room and having a shower I was almost dead. I was however dying to tell someone about the day, and once I finally got the chance, recounting all the excitement over Skype just got me buzzing again, so it took me another hour or so to wind down. All in all, a 20-hour day, tiring, stressful, but exciting and rewarding. It is a shame about the circumstances which led to me performing (and I deliberately leave these out), but such is the job, and it's one I probably couldn't do if I wasn't excited and happy to be given the chance to perform...

Sunday, October 2nd

The day off. I'm informed I will be needed until Tuesday morning, with the decision about the show on Tuesday night still being contemplated by management. I meet up with Catriona to have a catch-up and yet again reminisce about Banff (one thing we both agree on, after the Opera as Theatre schedules, college, or any production schedules are going to feel like a walk in the park).

I then try and learn some new music for college, but my brain refuses to cooperate. My body also makes it clear that it would rather nap than look at music. In all fairness, I probably deserve to take it easy after yesterday, so I relax into a lazy day of window shopping, good food and crappy films on demand in my hotel room.

By the way, for anyone visiting Glasgow, I highly recommend the CitizenM hotel. Very modern, with a designer feel to it, comfortable and reasonably priced.

The high-tech hotel room, with your choice of light colour for the shower cabin

Monday, October 3rd

We head out for Stirling at 2pm and spend the afternoon and evening rehearsing with the orchestra. Up until now the shows had been with piano accompaniment, but the next 3 are with reduced orchestra, so the cast have to adjust and get used to performing with a conductor rather than the immensely flexible and forgiving pianists. The rehearsals go well and everyone is looking forward to performing in the MacRobert Centre, a nice modern venue with enormous wing space and fairly cool by theatre standards (Linlithgow was like a sauna in comparison). I say everyone is looking forward to tomorrow, I have as yet not received a clear indication as to whether or not I will be performing.

Tuesday, October 4th

In the morning the company manager informs me that I will indeed be going on tonight. I celebrate with a steak lunch and before I know it it's bus, venue, dialogue call, dance call, beginners' call, first half, interval, hell, and we're done. It's less stressful and much more fun this time round, and it's pretty amazing that I got to perform with the orchestra. It was a fantastic experience and I got to work with an outstanding group of people, to whom I'm grateful for all the support, encouragement and (to try out an Irish term) good craic.

Pluto

My Scottish Opera debut behind me, Wednesday sees me fly back to Cardiff. It all seems a bit surreal now that I look back on it... better write it up before it feels any more like a dream that never happened.

A Polish theme for the week

Over the last couple of days, thanks in no small part to my new iPad (I will soon write a post about how it serves as a musician's tool), I have found myself bombarded with information about English National Opera's production of Mieczysław Weinberg's The Passenger. While this does not strictly speaking have anything to do with the subject matter of this blog, I nonetheless feel compelled to share some of my sources, as this year seems to be bringing Polish-born composers into the limelight (apart from ENO's gambit with Weinberg, there is also Wexford Opera's production of Statkowski's Maria, an opera that I've heard great things about from David Agler himself, and also Dan Joy, who will be singing the Kozak), which makes me ever so slightly proud, and makes for more interesting conversations about Polish opera (thank God it's not just Moniuszko and Penderecki anymore), but these articles are (in my humble opinion) simply worth sharing!

First off is one of my favourite blogs, that of WNO's new Artistic Director, and famous British opera director, David Pountney: click here. The more recent post also concerns Weinberg's opera.

And then, thanks to a medium I've only recently started tentatively exploring, namely Twitter, I found this article in The Observer.

Needless to say, next time I'm back home in Poland, I will be hunting for the book... As for the opera, it's doubtful I'll be able to see the ENO production, but if it's as stunning as it supposedly is, then it's surely only a matter of time before it 'comes to a theatre near you'.

Saying goodbye to Glasgow

As I write this, my stint at Scottish Opera has drawn to a close... Or perhaps I should say that the rehearsal period has, as I will still be on standby for another couple of months (the girls even reckon we should have suitcases packed and ready just in case). It has been an eventful couple of days, and I know that some people would like to find out how the incident I last described developed, so here we go!

Thursday, September 8th

We have rehearsals in the morning, and these have been moved from Elmbank Crescent (SO headquarters) to the Citizen's Theatre, to give us more time to work on the set (hugely helpful, and probably inspired by last night's accident, which thankfully didn't have any drastic consequences, so I now feel better about touching on it here). We are told that Nick, the principal Orpheus is fine, and that he will be going on, though Adrian will have to take over gimp-anzee duties (apparently after the risk-assessment Nick will be treated as visually impaired for a week or so, after being hit in the eye with a bottle).

Opening night goes well. Nick's eye looks slightly frightening, but gets worked into the dialogue very well, and he gives a great performance, so obviously it looks worse than it is. The audience react well, though some gasps of shock can be heard every now and then, which is probably what the director was going for, and laughter dominates throughout anyway, so no harm done in challenging the audience. It's all far too silly to be taken as offensive anyway (at least by a Glaswegian audience).

At the company reception after the show we have a chance to chat to the cast a bit, which is nice. Nick is in very good spirits, especially when recounting his recent taxi ride:
Driver: So what happened to you then?
Nick: I got stabbed in the eye in the Gorbals. (the area of Glasgow where the Citz theatre is located, a fairly rough neighborhood)
Driver: Ah well, I've picked up worse...

Friday, September 9th sees us running the show for the first time in its entirety. We do a messy job, but it's secure enough that it never gets close to derailing, so although there's thought to be put in before tomorrow's covers' run, we all know where we went wrong and how to fix it.

Saturday, September 10th

Our last day, the covers' run (cue ominous music or fanfare as you see fit). We all convene at the theatre quite early to warm up, focus, walk the set, etc. It might seem being a bit precious, but it's our only full run on the set with props and elements of costume, plus management will be in the audience.

Although, on that last point, Derek Clark said something reassuring yesterday. The covers' run is not an audition, he as head of music has seen us working, other key people auditioned us and we already got the job. Treat it as a rehearsal, focus on the technical stage elements, as it'll be our last chance to go over them in relative calm.

The run goes pretty smoothly, I must say, and it's a huge relief, to be honest. I now feel that if I was to go on, I wouldn't be a risk or extreme hinderance to the cast! A quick lunch, one last notes session, and... That's it! We're ready to step in if need be. It's been intense, fast and furious, but we did it. It was an incredible team effort, and one couldn't ask for a better team than the people I had the pleasure of working with here. Thank you all!

It's not over though, I've got to find a workable way to keep all the staging in good shape until December, including the dances... And there are arias I want to learn, a Mahler song cycle to prepare, and college is starting in a week! Bring on the fun!

The cover cast, minus Adrian (gimping) and Laura (taking the photo)

Always be ready to go on

A cliche? Read on...

It's been an uneventful couple of days, including a day off, some friendly catch-ups in person and over Facebook, some fruitful clothes shopping, and of course more rehearsals (both watching and doing). Nothing really worth mentioning until...

Wednesday, September 7th

Dress rehearsal day. And at that very rehearsal, which was open and attracted an audience, one of the principals got injured and had to be replaced in the 2nd half of the show. I won't go into detail, it's still very fresh in my memory, as I only just got home and am already writing (I confess to being slightly in shock, and that's only having been witness to the whole thing). I will however write a bit about the dynamic in the theatre as the scene unfolded.

It was a prop-related accident, not everyone saw it, as it was a busy scene on stage. Even when the principal walked off, not everyone in the cover cast caught on to what was going on (I don't know about the audience, we were in the circle, apart from them, but as we knew the show we had the best chance of noticing any mishaps, and it still took a while to permeate our ranks). The whispers did however slowly spread, so when a frantic woman came up to where we were, we knew that Adrian was going to have to go on. So as he went off to get into costume, we were left there fretting about the accident, wondering how bad it was, and stressing over the fact that Adrian would have to do the one scene we hadn't set yet, so essentially being directed from the wings. When he did step onto the stage, I sneaked a glance at our row. We were all leaning forward, our hands over our mouths, eyes open wide. Thankfully it went well, very well considering the circumstances, with the cast being very helpful in subtly guiding our colleague through the staging (they had also done a great job of covering the lack of their respective colleague in the immediate aftermath of the accident). We all relaxed up in the circle and even went through a bit of group hysterical elation at how well it went.

Afterwards I went to take Adrian's things to him backstage and to find out how bad the injury was (seeing the ambulance at the stage door did nothing for my nerves). No one was forthcoming with specifics, Adrian was released and told to be ready in case he had to go on tomorrow for opening night, so we headed home, bumping into the rest of the covers on the way out. Much speculation and worry understandably ensued (after everyone had expressed how impressed they were with Adrian's performance), but as we had no chance of finding out anything more, we all went our separate ways. I got to chat a bit with Adrian on the way home, he said the feeling he got was surreal. That's the only word he could find to describe it. I can't even imagine...

I got home only to realize, that I myself felt very unnerved by the experience. I'm on edge, restless, hungry for news, worried, anxious... And I wasn't even directly affected! How must everyone in the cast, backstage, etc feel? Again, I can't even imagine, but my thoughts are with them.