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

Saturday 19 November 2011

New music adrenaline

I recently took part in a concert showcasing compositions by students from my college's Contemporary Music Department. The concert itself was by all accounts a great success: packed audience, satisfied composers and a jolly time in the bar afterwards. What I would like to focus on, however, is the atmosphere in the Green Room.

It's a funny thing, performing new works. It's only when I do it, that I come to realise how I've come to rely on what I'll call (probably inappropriately) 'stylistic context'. What I mean by that is everything that tells us what the music on the page is supposed to sound like, but isn't actually in print. And rest assured, I'm not talking about in depth research, as that's something I just don't do, as it's just not a workable approach for me (for various reasons, not just laziness). It is amazing how much information we acquire through osmosis, though, simply from exposure to recordings, performances, conversations with colleagues, interesting facts imparted by conductors, or their personal theories forced on us in rehearsals. Thanks to that, I have an idea of what Mozart should sound like, what constitutes romantic music and what approach to use when singing in that style, etc.

When faced with a brand new piece freshly printed off by my dear composer friend, I have no idea what I'm aiming for. This time I was fortunate enough to have said friend on hand to help me learn his piece, and also to play in it. Even so, our work was focussed on 'what' to sing, rather than 'how' (and I don't mean technique). The lack of 'stylistic context' made me feel incredibly unsettled, to the point when even after singing the right notes, I would stop and apologise for making a mistake. And even though the composer obviously must have a vision of how his music is meant to sound, some of my actual mistakes went unchecked, even up to and including the performance (I'm sure I constantly sang an F# rather than F in the climactic phrase, which I only realised later, while the composer was fine with it all through rehearsals). Maybe my interpretation was just that convincing? (doubtful)

How does this have anything to do with the Green Room? Well, I thought my unease in singing contemporary repertoire stemmed from me being A) not a very good sight-reader, B) used to learning things off copy over a longer period of rehearsing (I learnt said 6 minute piece in 2 days, which is pretty quickly by my standards), and C) not having much experience in performing new music. It turns out that it's more common than I thought, even amongst instrumentalists. All the acts returning to the Green Room had comments like 'we almost lost it' or 'I have no idea if that was right'. There were also a fair few stories about concerts and recordings of works whose composer later congratulated performers for conveying his thoughts perfectly... yet half the music did not match what was on the page. British über-politeness, or lack of 'stylistic context'?

I will admit that I find that unsettled feeling I mentioned rather thrilling. Yes, it's stressful, but also exciting! And in the end, if the composer misses mistakes, then the audience have no chance at all of hearing them. All you have to do is your best, and if anything goes wrong... it was deliberate!

I was once told by a conductor: 'it sounds great, and although it's actually wrong, it would only be a problem if the composer was conducting you'. He also happened to be the composer ;)

Friday 11 November 2011

Unexpected awe

There had been some buzz around college about Music Theatre Wales' touring production of Mark-Anthony Turnage's first opera Greek, with posters visible on notice boards and a workshop for vocal studies students organised and led by the cast and creative team of the show. Not being a fan of contemporary opera myself, I wasn't planning on going to see the performance in Newport until Joe (counter-tenor in my year) convinced me to give it a chance. Worst case scenario: I'd enjoy two drives, dinner and an interval in good company and endure 90 minutes of contemporary opera. The company was indeed good, as for the opera...

I am lost for words. It was possibly the most enthralling piece of theatre I have ever seen. A minimal production, relying on the acting abilities of the cast of four singers to convey the transposition of the Oedipus myth into cockney London. The strength of the acting was key, as the show strikes a balance between 'sung' operatic passages and what is best described as 'accompanied straight theatre'. For the most part the transitions are seamless and greatly enhance the dramatic impact of what we see on stage. I wouldn't describe the music as easy, but through the use of clear motifs and flirting with popular musical styles, it is accessible enough to allow even a skeptical listener to enter the sonic world of the piece fairly easily and focus on the drama, which the music accentuates and helps develop.

One of the most striking scenes was the riot, in which the orchestra abandoned their instruments for shields (which they proceeded to bang) and acted as a chorus of protesters, shouting at the audience, while the cast armed with megaphones delivered slogans to rile everyone up. The second powerful scene was when Eddy realizes the curse has come true, goes through an a capella mental breakdown, then proceeds to gouge his eyes out. I have to say at this point, that while the cast and players were all excellent, Marcus Farnsworth stole the show for me as Eddy (and I'm not just saying that because of baritone loyalty).

It's not easy to take an established myth and present it in a fresh and engaging way. Greek does it successfully. Even though we know what's coming, the way it is set to music, the modern spin on the language, the powerful performances from the singer-actors, all make it a completely fresh experience, and let's be honest, it's not a particularly pleasant one. The impact is a lasting one, though. No wonder the show won the Outstanding Achievement in Opera award at the 2011 UK Theatre Awards.

Saturday 5 November 2011

My voice sounds tired? How very dare you!

It's been a long week. Circumstances are such that not only am I getting on with my set work for college, but also taking part in the 2nd year's end of term concerts, which means working in their sessions as well as my own year's. All that plus a singing lesson and 2 coachings working on very challenging repertoire... And on Friday I was told that my voice sounds tired! No wonder. That did not stop me from heading off to coaching after hearing said line and working on what I jokingly call 'the unsingable song', namely Mahler's Ging heut Morgen übers Feld with its ppp top notes and other assorted technical difficulties. The coaching was fine and the song isn't as unsingable as I had feared, even with tired voice.

I have never been good at what singers call 'marking'. I would never attempt to sing my way through a rehearsal in 'half voice', as my current theory is that doing that badly would tire my voice out much more than singing properly at (almost) full pelt. As for 'popping it down an octave', well, I can see some sense in that, however only with music that I know is absolutely dialled into my voice and body. At this stage in a singer's career this is hardly ever the case, as most of what I perform is repertoire new to me, and even if it's revisiting roles or pieces I've done before, my voice and technique change so rapidly that it is often a case of relearning to sing old pieces with a new voice. Maybe I'm too hung up on 'singing it in' and have a tendency to overwork my voice? Then again I never practice hard passages to self-destruction, sing scales until I crack or warm-up to within an inch of losing my voice (common 'rookie errors' among young singers). I also learn music silently or falsetto, working out a game plan for singing it before properly opening my mouth. The 'singing in' and practice come when I'm sure I know what I'm doing and the aim of the game is to cement consistency. Once I have consistency, why risk unbalancing it by trying to mark my way through?

I may be wrong, and even if I'm not, this is probably an approach that won't work for everyone. Tiredness happens, especially when like this week, we have to sing a lot and want to give it a 100% because we're working with a visiting tutor and want to make the most of it. Singing when I'm tired makes me all the more focused and pushing myself is what stretches my stamina. Of course, if I felt I was in danger of hurting myself, I'd just stop singing or do the 'octave down' thing, but as a last resort rather than default practice.

I say all this, but probably only because I can look forward to a weekend of silence, so please disregard the above and treat it as a snapshot of my thoughts after this week only. Perhaps next time I'm in a long production period I will turn to marking and report on here for comparison.

Disclaimer: The author is not a singing teacher or established professional, but in fact just a student and probably has no idea what he's talking about, so don't try this at home!