This is not a review

I've been watching a lot more opera in the last year than usual, both live and on DVD. The reason I didn't use to do it was that I find it very difficult to turn off my overly critical, cynical mind. It's not that I can't appreciate a good performance of opera, I'm just very easily put off by small things.

It's not even about the singing, though I admit that these days I go to operas mostly to listen to how 'real life' singing differs from 'college' singing, and then have a think about why it is different, which does mean a lot of listening out for technique and tricks of the trade (after all, I want to know what I'll hopefully be getting myself into). However most of the 'buts' I have nagging away at my mind after performances are usually to do with productions not being able to keep me in the world they create. Oddly enough, a cracked note by a singer doesn't necessarily destroy the reality the character's in (unless the singer then flags it up by becoming defensive). My pet hates are more trivial things like not looking at the person you're singing to (OK, you can do it if there's a reason for averting your gaze, but if it's just because you're focused on yourself or the conductor, it breaks the reality of the drama), bad fights, costumes or props that stick out of a design, rickety sets, etc. Small things that don't seem to bother most people I just can't seem to be able to ignore.

Which brings me to today's dress rehearsal. Innovatively designed (with projected backdrops and even 'frontdrops', a cinematic curtain, but quite understated and minimal use of set pieces in favour of a clever symbolic use of space), yet traditionally set, well sung, well played, well paced, in general a great show. But what hit me, was that although it was a rehearsal, and it was not absolutely perfect in terms of minor things like lighting cues, surtitles, etc; none of those little things mattered! The world created on stage was so carefully maintained throughout, the performers so committed to it, that I finally had an experience of 'switching off' my brain and just being taken in by it all. I'm not even a big fan of the composer! It was wonderful to see a production that took so much care to keep the magic going, that you never even thought it was odd that the boys had the snow from Act III in their flat in Act IV. We just thought: 'oh! times are not good, the poor lads have to sweep the snow from their floor!' and it was a fact of life.

I don't know if it's just a question of attention to detail, or inspired design, or commitment, but transporting cynics to a different, credible world in the way this production managed to do it will be my new benchmark for operatic performances. And for myself as a singer I acknowledge that a lot of responsibility for that will be on my shoulders, and as Martin Lloyd Evans and David Gowland said at the BYO workshops: technique, voice, acting; they're only a means to that ultimate end!

No escape...

I hate auditions. I have mentioned it more than once on here, but now I have a new reason to hate them: even when I have none coming up, when I've got so much other stuff going on... I can't get away from auditions!

The reason for this is simple: college won't let me, and to be honest, they're right. This week I had a couple of sessions with Donald Maxwell (for anyone who doesn't know who he is, google him, his biography on his agent's website is a hilarious read, just scrolling down endlessly through roles he's sung at the best opera houses in the world), which my head of department said to use not just for singing, but also to pick his brain about my future (no, he's not clairvoyant, but apparently we have similar voice-types). So I did, and we chatted about roles that would be worth looking at, and then inevitably: auditions!

I sang him what I'd been auditioning with in the past 7 months (Largo al factotum, Pierrot's Tanzlied) as well as a new addition to my rep that I had just wanted to look at to have a go at Britten: Tarquinius' aria. Turns out the only thing Donald would recommend I keep in my audition portfolio was the Britten!

Before you jump to the most logical conclusion, no, I am not awful at the other 2 arias! However, as Donald said: they could do with being a bit more effortless. I can get through them fine, sing them in succession, multiple times a day, perform them in concerts, I enjoy singing them! But he has a point, they're not quite as effortless as I'd like them to be 100% of the time. He heard me on an average day, however I hadn't sung them in ages, so call it a 5-6/10 performance. The problem is, auditions pile on the stress, so getting above a 7-8/10 when on form is a good result.

Yes, Figaro and Fritz are roles I could sing, I should keep singing the arias (I haven't even been singing them for a year yet, after all, and some things come with time), but for auditions one wants something foolproof. Something you can sing on your worst day at 7am having rolled off your bed still drunk. BUT they can't be easy! They have to show off what you can do best! Ummm... help?

Donald's advice was to try some pieces that display similar characteristics to the Rossini and Korngold, but down one notch on the difficulty scale. Oddly enough, the Tarquinius can in many ways replace the Pierrot, and (apparently) shows off something that Donald thinks I am very good at: singing in English. Yay! Not only will I be the best opera-singer/whitewater-kayaker hybrid in the UK (I think I already am, though I'm not particularly great at either ;) ), but I may be the only Polish singer who develops a reputation as a specialist in singing English operatic repertoire*. After all, that is what Scottish Opera hired me for!

Armed with Donald's suggestions for new arias to look at, along with tips on how to work at making the ones I already have seem more effortless, I now have 6 months to come up with a winning formula. Shame I'm so busy...

* If anyone can think of a person who beats me in either category, please let me know by calling: 0800-SHATTERMYDREAMS

The bigger picture - BYO Easter Workshops 2012

With the BYO Workshops now behind me I have a minute to sit down and put into words what this week was all about. I gave you an idea of what the first day was about, and Martin and David managed to extend and expand the same theme over the course of the entire week.

We played a lot of games, talked a lot about what it is we do as performers, worked on the text and setting of a sextet from Don Giovanni (Sola, sola in buio loco)... we didn't actually sing a note until the last hour of the penultimate day!

How did that happen? Well, Martin and David wanted to show us a different approach to the one we're normally used to in our voice-centric education. We're often told that any preparation should start with the text: translating, understanding, learning the phonetics, etc. But it's easy to be tempted by the dots on the stave and try and do everything at once, especially if we're in a hurry. This week we looked at the sextet as a piece of straight theatre, speaking the text, with all the repeats, finding a reason to say the words. We did the sextet as a radio play and then put it on its feet, still in straight-theatre-mode. Then David suggested what was probably the oddest exercise: delivering the lines in our speaking voice, in the natural spoken rhythm of the Italian... but following the melodic line of the music, going from high spoken voice to low, and vice versa. That helped us see how the composer heard the words in his head, and we could then set about finding our own reasons to deliver the text in the way he gives us. Only then do we get to singing it as it is on the page, but by that time, having sort of set a scene of theatre, the singing is only a natural extension of what we've been doing so far!

That coupled with the absolute ban on warming up imposed on us by David and Martin means that no one worries about technique, we're all just delivering the text and the thoughts, the singing just happens (phew!).

The last day is devoted to working on arias and songs, but in the same way: no warm up, no technical jargon, just the words, just the scene, no singers, just characters. It's a wonderfully free and safe environment, and as some of us later say: when we're watching the others, we're not actually listening to the voice, the singing, the sound, we're actually following a story. I have to say, it was an exceptional thing to witness (there were tears!) and I kept thinking: why can't we have this when we go to the opera? Why do I find myself sitting in a show listening to singers sing pretty tunes? Where's the story? It hasn't bothered me this much before, but after seeing what it's possible to achieve, I'll find it hard to sit through another mediocre show...

It all goes back to what we did the first day: turning our approach on its head. Don't aim for what you want the audience to see/hear, because then it ends up being a boring case of: oh yes, he's here to sing nicely and he's showing us he can. But if we take it upon ourselves to be responsible for the story, the audience will still get the music. In the end, the music, the words, the staging, the design and the singer all serve the same goal: the story. If the singer starts serving the music, or (worse!) his own voice, all we end up with is disconnected self-indulgence.

At the end we talk a bit about how to bring what we've been exposed to here forward into our lives. It's not easy, even in college. Maybe I should say: especially in college? The work we do with our teachers and coaches, and then our assessments are incredibly voice-centric. We end up thinking that what we do is essentially voice-centric, be it concerts, shows, auditions or exams. I suppose it's not college's fault, but ours for letting our insecurities drive us. Yes, we're in college to develop the building blocks that we'll then use to construct our characters and their stories: the technique, the languages, the stagecraft, the physical fitness, the dance, the research, etc. But at the end of the day we can't be slaves to any one building block, there's no point getting hung up on the fact that our teachers specialize and form their expectations according to their specialities. It's their job. Our job is to always remember there's a bigger personal picture for each of us.

I am incredibly grateful to Martin and David for a much needed step back to admire that bigger picture and hope to be able to hold on to the state of mind I'm in now. My gratitude extends to BYO for providing a safe environment for a workshop like this to happen without any pressure on delivering a product at the end of it. I wasn't sure what the point of locking a group of singers away in a building for a week was, but it turned out to be an incredibly valuable time.

Theatricality is bollocks!

I know, it's been a while. Life has been busy, then I was ill. Hopefully I'll get enough inspiration one of these days to fill in the gap since the last post, it's not as if there was nothing going on: thought-provoking concerts I went to, Figaro, my first Carmina Burana and B minor Mass, the birth of Sforza... I'll leave those for another day (fingers crossed).

At the moment I'm sitting in a Wetherspoon's enjoying coffee, breakfast and free Wi-Fi, looking forward to the second day of British Youth Opera's Easter Workshops. 5 days, 3 groups of 12 singers, 10.30-5.30. My group is being taken by Martin Lloyd-Evans and David Gowland.

The first thing that hits me is how small our operatic world is: I know 5 people in my group already, from Opera'r Ddraig, RWCMD, Scottish Opera and even Banff. Another couple of people in different groups are also friends. Despite the wide geographical spread of the participants from all over the UK, everyone seems to have at least a mutual acquaintance. This means a friendly atmosphere from the start, lucky us!

Martin and David start off by warning us we won't be doing any singing for the first couple of days, so they see no need for us to warm up early in the morning. This is getting better and better! Martin goes on to say how wonderful an opportunity these workshops are: there's no end result to aim for, no performance, no assessment. It's all about individual growth, everyone at their own pace.

The day is filled with games to help us get to know one another, team-building exercises, a bit of physicality work, and some time spent poring over the score of Don Giovanni, fishing for facts about the characters we are to sing later on in the week (by the way, there are hardly any facts in the libretto, but lots of preconceptions we wrongly assume are fact, they are actually only choices... I've played this game before, courtesy of Harry Fehr).

Despite the initial impression of randomness, a pattern emerges and I personally come out of the day with a couple of strong new thoughts in my mind, that actually serve as affirmation and expansion on what has been my approach up til now.

The morning session sees us discussing impossible questions: who is the best opera composer ever, best singer ever, what makes a great operatic performance, what makes a great singer... All of our answers come from what turns out to be an audience perspective, even the ones that deal with our own aspirations. Our great singer needs to communicate, give a strong sense of character, sing beautifully, etc. All well and good, but it's not something you can be if you just set out thinking 'I will be a character, communicate and sing beautifully'. All these things are how the audience sees us, it's not what the singer actually does! I mean, how terrifying and debilitating is hearing the words 'Just sing this phrase beautifully'? How do you do that?! Your mind shuts down all thoughts other than the technical ones and you become a larynx on legs (to borrow a phrase from our drama teacher, Alma Sheehan). But all you can do then (if you have nerves of steel) is make a nice sound. That's not beautiful singing. There are singers, as one of our group points out, who don't make a nice noise but sing beautifully (Maria Callas anyone?) .

The afternoon is character work, or should I say: fact finding. As I mentioned, there often isn't much the creators of a piece give us, but we make choices. Zerlina can be innocent, but nowhere does it say that she is. In fact I've always felt the opposite way. We are all bogged down by preconceptions that stem from all the 'definitive' performances we've seen on DVD, or historical practice, or our own first productions of an opera. We close our minds to the possibilities that we can explore, and if we do that, are choices aren't informed at all, they're just prejudice.

But once we make a choice, how do we convey it? How does one play innocent? Well, Martin says something painfully obvious, but actually quite elusive a lot of the time. Think of yourself as a person. We don't think of ourselves as innocent, funny, manipulative, friendly, good-natured, etc (well, some people do, but then they're usually wrong and end up being false because they aspire to fulfil their own vision of how people should see them). Again, that's how others see us. What do we do to make them form opinions about us? Well, actually, we just do things. We react to our world. Yes, we have emotions, but we don't over-indulge in them, we don't decide them, they're reactions and manifest themselves in our actions, what we do. Most of the time we as people don't think all that much, we just do.

Why not let our characters in an opera do the same? Yes, we make a choice about what story we want to tell, but once we decide that, we let our characters react to it. We may choose those reactions, because they won't really be our own, but we're not driving ourselves into the impossible task of playing to the audience.

Warming down

Just a short post today, as I have once again been prompted to draw a parallel between singers and athletes. It's not a particularly far-fetched idea, seeing as what we do is in essence physical, with an enormous emphasis on technique that is supposed to minimise muscular tension, but also training the muscles involved in singing to perform at exaggerated levels compared to their normal 'biological' use. We have to (or at least should) warm up to prepare our bodies for the exertion of singing; we run the risk of injury if we fail to practice good technique; we have a similar curve of our performance capabilities over age; the mental aspect of what we do can either give us wings or neuter us...

Adrian Thompson (my teacher) came into our Figaro rehearsal today, as we were staging the Act 3 sextet, to watch for a bit. I then met up with him later for a lesson in which we focused on Bach's Mass in B minor, which I'm singing in about a month's time. At the end he said that it's really good and important to have a proper sing after a day of staging rehearsals in order to 'warm the voice down', re-focus it after a hard day's work. He went on to say that rehearsals, especially staging ones, where it all gets very bitty, often singing half a phrase at a time, stopping and starting, are a dreadful strain on the voice. As you have to focus on so many things at the same time, the concentration is often not on the singing aspect of the work. 'None of us really sing properly all the time in these rehearsals, after a couple of hours you just lose the will to live, vocally...' That's why it's refreshing to find a room afterwards and sing a lied, song, or aria that puts the voice back to its proper place. A bit like warming down and light stretching after a work-out.

OK, you've indulged me this far, time for a 'treat' ;) How about some quotes from our rehearsals: (I'll leave out the more vulgar ones, so it'll pretty much just be director's lines)

'How do we feel about having some sexual teaspoon action?'

'Sorry, this recit seems to have become all about a chair... Who knew?'

'What are you doing at this point? Oh, just general tidying action? OK'

'I want you to go over to her and have another Hey baby! moment'

'I love that weird noise you're making!'

'OK, so now I want Cherubino to think of yourself as a woman, but Susanna look at him as a man, Countess becomes a man too, but sees Cherubino as a woman, just as he looks at her and goes back to being a man and wanting her as a woman...' I may not have gotten that one right ;)

March 15-18, Weston Studio, Wales Millennium Centre, Cardiff: be there or... miss it.

Enterprise (the venture, not the starship)

Last week was full of Figaro rehearsals, obviously. We got to the end of Act 2 and I have to say it's looking great! March 15-18 in Cardiff, if you can make it...

But there were other things of note last week that I feel deserve mention, namely college had REPCo week. The Repertory by Entrepreneurial Performers Company is an institution at college that provides start-up loans to student-led enterprise at the RWCMD. Apart from these loans, college also accommodates the student companies that fall under REPCo's care with rehearsal spaces, and a week when these companies can perform in college venues at highly discounted rates, while also having a certain priority in terms of schedules (basically, REPCo can take precedence over regular classes). All this creates a fantastic platform for students to put on events for themselves, providing invaluable performance opportunities for those involved, giving budding entrepreneurs a chance to test their ideas in a safe environment with support from a well-established institution like the college.

The largest REPCo companies are as follows:

The REPCo Orchestra, which gives students a chance to play in an orchestra when in normal college life they wouldn't have that opportunity, so either on their second study instruments or the youngest students in college. Last week they put on an operatic concert performance double-bill called Mozart vs Salieri, recreating one of the most famous musical showdowns in history, when Mozart's Der Schauspieldirektor was pitted in competition against Salieri's Prima la musica, poi le parole. With actors playing the roles of the composers, and singers from all levels the vocal department, from undergrad to opera course, conductor Ian Peter Bugeja (artistic director of the orchestra) created a great opportunity for everyone involved to play and sing the challenging repertoire that is opera in the stunning venue that is the Dora Stoutzker Hall.

Sinfonia Newydd, a company dedicated to performing world premieres (only!) of new works by young composers. What started out as a small chamber ensemble putting on infrequent concerts with pieces by composers studying in college has grown into a beast putting on symphonic concerts (possibly the only opportunity for Cardiff based composers to have their large-scale pieces played), branching out into jazz, and holding an annual week-long festival where music merges with visual art. I have had the privilege of premiering a work with Sinfonia Newydd, namely a musical-theatre song by David Harrington, patient readers will find a recording of this work at the bottom of this post ;)

Opera'r Ddraig, a company very dear to my heart. This opera company gave me my first opportunity to sing a principal role in the UK in their very first production, The Magic Flute in 2010. Since then they have managed to put on a successful show every year. This year's double bill of Acis and Galatea and Dido and Aeneas (so many 'ands' there) was the first time I've not been involved in the company as a singer. I have to admit it was difficult to watch the stunning piece of theatre they created and not shed a tear of regret about that fact. Being company treasurer however means that I get a bit more insight into how huge an undertaking it is to put on an opera! And how risky it is... Despite critical acclaim, impressed audiences, excited cast members, technicians and players, and even sold out shows last year, the company is ever in danger, with only the sheer force of the core team's determination keeping it alive. In its third year, I think many people in college, or even Cardiff take Opera'r Ddraig's existence for granted a bit. Has some of the excitement gone? Is it not something new and fresh any more? Is it ok to wait until next year to get involved? If that's what you think, then you're wrong. Every year is a new team, a new fight to get the company on its feet, find a cast, pick an opera, get money, negotiate with college, the venue, find orchestral players, sort out a technical crew, source costumes, props, design marketing tools, try and schedule rehearsals in a way that makes it possible from students from different places to come... Every year could be the last. All it takes is for one key member of the team to have to drop out and the whole thing unravels. A bad audience turnout, that's it... And it would be a shame, because if you ever got to see an OD show, you know that they are excellent. The energy of young people on stage, it's electric and irreplaceable! The effort that everyone, from director, conductor, through the cast down to the ushers put in to make these shows work makes them really special, polished yet fresh. It's a joy to watch even when the operas themselves are sombre and depressing ;)

In this financial climate it's a miracle that these companies exist! Don't wait for these things to fail before you get involved. It doesn't take much, even going to the shows is a big help, a visible show of support. If you can, then join your local youth company in any capacity (there's nothing worse than companies failing because no one can be bothered to sing/play/help), let's keep these things alive, because they have something to offer that the big companies don't. Intimacy, freshness, youth, excitement, and all this while maintaining high artistic standards.

A huge well done and fingers crossed from me to all the REPCo companies! Keep doing what you're doing, you make Cardiff exciting :)

As promised, Modern Song, with yours truly at the mic, Paul McKenzie on the piano, and the composer himself, David Harrington turning pages:

A tsunami every day

Wow, it's been a while since I've written, the reason being that it's been a hectic couple of weeks: music calls for Le Nozze di Figaro, henceforth to be known as Figaro, a visit to WNO studio rehearsals, the start of our Figaro rehearsals with our director: Harry Fehr, a couple of concerts, the dress rehearsal of WNO's Traviata, and auditions galore (St Magnus Festival, RWCMD vocal scholarships and prizes, BYO). 

 

With such a plethora of topics to choose from, what should I write about? My thoughts on auditions haven't changed since the (quite popular by this blog's standards) rant, the concerts and dress rehearsal weren't all that interesting, so Figaro it is.

 

Our first taste of staging the opera was actually at WNO, where we were invited to sit in on a studio rehearsal of the Act 3 sextet. It was in fact the first rehearsal of that particular scene, so we got to observe the entire process, which as you can imagine was fascinating. I suppose the most surprising thing was how small the difference between their process and every production I've done so far is. Yes, the average age is higher, the standard of singing as well, and I would assume that the risk of someone being underprepared is much smaller, but watching the WNO cast banter, joke about and have such a good time overall, I thought to myself: 'The way I am now is probably the most grown up I'll ever be...' And my friends can attest to the fact that I'm as childish as a 15-year-old at times.

 

Our own rehearsals are also great fun. It's just that kind of opera! We spent the first couple of days reading through a translation of the libretto together as a complete team, then made decisions about our characters: age, background, relationships between them, etc. With the scene thus set, we got started on Act 1. As I type this the act is pretty much set, though of course there's more detailed work to do. Tomorrow it's on to Act 2...

 

Figaro is sooo complicated to set! The interplay between characters is very intricate if you delve into it a bit, with plans and intensions shifting and changing with almost every line, the risk is you overcomplicate it to the point where you don't know what your character is thinking, which leaves the audience without a chance in hell! You can't imagine how many times we have discussions along the lines of:

- So, why are you saying that?

- Because this...

- OK, but considering what you say in Act 4 maybe your motivation is this...

- But doesn't he find about that only in Act 3?

- Ah, but what with the French revolution in the background...

- So exactly which line are we talking about anyway?

 

The director (who by the way is doing a great job of finding a balance between detail and clarity that should ensure that we have enough thinking on stage to give the audience a sparkling show, without muddying the clarity of the story even if they don't catch every little shift) told us that he'd been talking to Sir Thomas Allen about this opera, and got the advice: 'Every day will be like a tsunami' in terms of questions, clarifying the plot, making decisions as to where to go with the text, etc. 

 

I suppose for us, especially those who haven't done Figaro before (it's my fourth, and I'm finding tonnes of new detail and countless new thoughts and possibilities), the tsunami effect is even more tangible. Today we were revising Act 1, and were negotiating changes of plans / ideas / motivations with the director (plus technical notes about moves, angles etc) to make it work better, while being bombarded with extra notes from the conductor and language coach... It's mad, I tell you! Maaaad! But brilliant :)