Language in two masterclasses

The masterclasses keep coming! This week we had two additional classes, each dealing with text and language.

On Thursday, Erie Mills gave class at Old First Church to some of our Little Women cast members with a focus on [American] English diction and, more accurately, phrasing. Far from spending hours nitpicking at vowels and consonants, she urged the performers to sing their text, not as a series of syllables, but as full phrases, concentrating on prosody. This is the same work that we must do in a general musical sense: seeing beyond the collection of individual notes to the phrases they make up. The former instance turns syllables into sentences; the latter pitches into melodies. In both cases, the result is actual meaning.

Looking for fluidity and strength.

Her insistence that the singers approach their pieces naturally and organically extended to the technical issues she addressed as well. Mills urged them to use their entire bodies to support their sound, thinking of a breath's trajectory as going beyond just mouth to lungs and back. Her approach was both energetic and relaxed as she reminded the performers to pace themselves and not to attempt super-human feats: "Remember you love to sing." "Human beings breathe. It's okay."

This emphasis on "humanness" in singing is one I take fully to heart. Yes, we are training ourselves to do extraordinary things with a body part that most people take for granted. But we must also remember that our voices are natural extensions of ourselves after all. Why not approach them in singing, both physically and psychologically, more like we do in familiar, spoken territory?

French vowels.

Marcie Stapp's class on Saturday night in the Southside Theater at Fort Mason dealt with more of the nitty gritty aspects of languages. She tackled major themes of diction in Italian, German and French, each language represented by two performers. But although the focus was on very specific pronunciation questions, Stapp's aim was very similar to Mills': making the text come out, naturally, easily and with the character of its language in mind. The adjustments she made to the singers' approach to sounds were not meant to add more rigid rules to the task of singing, but rather to make singing less difficult. As in Mills' class, the ultimate goal was to communicate humanly, and to do so with as little interference as possible.

Masterclass with Sheri Greenawald

Last night was the first of OAC's masterclass series at Old First Church, and I had the opportunity and great pleasure of singing for Sheri Greenawald. This was my first time doing so, but I had seen her work with others before in San Francisco and Boston, so I had some idea what to expect. As always, Greenawald was detail-driven and supportive, and a riot to watch.

While she did address a few technical concerns as they came up, Greenawald concentrated the bulk of her efforts on reshaping our interpretations. She fastidiously focused our visions of the scene for our arias, our emotional arc as dictated by the text and the music. Especially in the context of a masterclass, where time is limited, reshaping the interpretative form of a piece can work miracles in transforming the performance, so much so that the singing often improves too. More often than not, this task is about honing on the specifics of drama (or comedy, as the case may be), and I find it invaluable to have a pair of experienced eyes to give me a fresh take. Ms. Greenawald, through her work both on and off the stage, certainly fits the bill!

Hatem Nadim, who dutifully braved The Rake's Progress and Roméo et Juliette alike.

I'm a great fan of masterclasses, both as a performer and as an audience member. Their quality, of course, relies largely on the personality and strength of the master teacher, and on the students' ability to implement new ideas quickly. Even the best masterclasses can feel long, as they can clock in at around three hours, often without intermission. But they are quite valuable, and not only for the musicians directly concerned. Most non-musicians I've invited to watch have found it fascinating to witness a piece evolve before their eyes. People with no particular connection to or interest in opera have said that they understand better the appeal of the art form because they've seen what goes into creating a skilled vocal interpretation. I encourage everyone to attend a masterclass!

Thomas Quasthoff masterclass

Thomas Quasthoff (with Justus Zeyen in a supporting role) gave a masterclass in Jordan Hall at NEC this afternoon. I had, understandably, high expectations for the event, and I was happy that the class did not disappoint.

Quasthoff was both demanding and extremely playful. His masterclass was a performance for the audience to enjoy: he was quippy, and quite charming (hearing him sing portions of the pieces prepared by the four students was another perk). I can only imagine that the prospect of singing German Lieder for one of the reigning champions of the style was as daunting as it was exciting, but the students and masterteachers were able to create some very distinct changes in interpretation.

Based on his own performing style, it was not a surprise to me to hear how much importance Quasthoff puts on the emotional content of the songs. But it was wonderful to hear this approach repeatedly emphasized nonetheless. In the day-to-day routine of conservatory life, as we strive so much to become the most proficient, clean singers we can be, it's easy to lose focus of what actually matters in a performance. Yes - a proper technique is important, but only as a means to a heartfelt interpretation. Over and over, Quasthoff underscored the importance of feeling and living the music as a human rather than a singing machine - pronouncing the text clearly but naturally, imbuing both the piano and vocal lines with a sense of atmosphere, progressing emotionally, using one's imagination, etc... His other repeated concern, that the performers use their entire bodies to create sound, goes hand in hand with the first motif of his lesson. The bottom line is that singers and pianists (and any other instrumentalist as well) must be people above technicians. They must use their entire selves, the outside and the inside, in order to express the notes. They must live, and create for the audience performances informed by their life experiences. Without this full dedication to and sense for the music, they are not creating art at all, but merely a series of audible frequencies of varying lengths.