Ritual, or "Fear does not prevent danger"

We all have our little rituals – this is certainly true of singers, whose live performances leave the door open to possible chaos. As I am currently in the thick of auditions, this fact is particularly apparent to me. Auditions are a vulnerable time, and it feels like any bit of extra snatched luck is imperative. So I have my rituals. In reality, of course, their good lies more in the comfort and confidence that “doing things right” imparts than in their power to stroke the Fates in the right direction, but this is not always easy to keep in mind.

via divinehood

The line between comforting superstition and functional necessity is a blurry one, and changes from person to person. Numerous are the accumulated dogmas of singers in “performance mode.” “A” swears that she cannot possibly eat tomatoes; “B” must have steak before a concert. A general list of rules for physical fitness is hard to determine, as each singer has a different relationship to his body, and each body reacts differently to foods or climates. So, the hard-held beliefs of singers are a constantly evolving list of discoveries. A young singer is told by teachers and peers what to do and not to do; over time, through trial and error, he comes up with his own list. Ultimately, which items are physical requirements, and which are purely psychological, is a tricky conclusion to draw…

Creature comforts: ubiquitous cardigan and scarf; music binder and practice log; emergency makeup and hairpins; water bottle; music.

As I have matured vocally and, more importantly, technically, I have pared down the members of my security blanket armada. When once the act of singing seemed like a high-wire act necessitating that all the elements of the universe converge in my favor, I am able now to rely more on the physical certainty of my body and my technique. I need fewer rules, and fewer rituals. I am less afraid of being sick: if I can sing without pain, so be it; if I cannot, I realize I will simply have to wait. I also do not adhere to any particular forbidden foods lists. In fact, most of my little rituals (because they certainly do exist) are not about fearfully avoidingperceived harms as if they were evil omens. Instead, they center on activities that make me feel more energetic, focused and at ease. But, lest I seem sickeningly pragmatic, I will admit two of my favorite irrational talismans: 1) I still hold my breath in cars when driving through tunnels, happily paying respects to this childhood relic of superstition. 2) I still love to hear my mother tell me “La peur n’évite pas le danger” (“Fear does not prevent danger”), which, although not a particularly helpful mantra, always brings a soothing surge of familiarity to my nerves.

The prodigal returns

I haven't been terribly impressive in my ability to post regularly, have I? Well, if at first you don't succeed, and so on...

But you see? Number 4 on the list clearly states that I shall post twice a week in February. My return is positively epic.

Idomeneo, at Boston Lyric Opera

I went to see the BLO production of Mozart's Idomeneo last night. It was my first time seeing the opera; in fact, it was my first time hearing a great majority of the music. (By virtue of my being a classical voice major interested in opera, and many companies' reliance on the same tried-and-true audience favorites, this is not a very common occurrence.) I have always grouped Idomeneo with La clemenza di Tito - in part because the latter is also a less familiar piece to me, in part because of both works' more traditional opera seria style, as compared to the beloved Da Ponte offerings. But in listening to the piece last night, it became clear to me that I can also link it to the Requiem in its choruses, considerably more than other Mozart operas. Here the chorus, particularly in the second and third acts, are given complex, pathos-ridden music that is much more than crowd atmosphere creation.

Last night's production was fast-paced and dynamic. The unchanging set of par-ruined Greek columns was simple but visually compelling throughout. The choice of time-period led me to scratch my head as a result of the costuming, however - in particular, if Idomeneo is now returning from the Trojan War, why is the High Priest of Crete a dead ringer for a Greek orthodox patriarch? Three of the main roles were compelling to watch and hear: Jason Collins, as Idomeneo, and Sandra Piques Eddy, as Idamante, were good physical foils to each other and made a strong father-son team. It was upon Idamante's second major scene, the first with his father, that I felt Piques Eddy really turned on, vocally and in her stage presence. To round out the trio was Caroline Worra as Elettra, who sang and moved impressively both in her Act I aria and in her final mad scene. One would hope an Elettra would command the stage, and in these numbers, Worra certainly did.

Between the production design and the majority of the cast, I'm happy to say I had a generally very positive first full taste of Idomeneo.

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.

The prospect of school coming to an end

I have exactly one week left of classes, this year, and as an undergraduate. In less than one month, I shall have graduated (assuming no unforeseen logistical hiccups, but I am not). So where does this leave me? Starting soon, I am a free agent. For the first time in nearly two decades I shall not be a student. What freedom! What terror!

Mostly, this means a new, large responsibility. It means a great amount of organization, as well as personal accountability. Moreover, it means that I shall have to measure my worth, not by a series of marks and contests, but through inherent self-esteem. Ideally, I will have been doing this already... but I'm not always ideally able to do so. Of course, I won't be completely devoid of outside judgement - far from it, in fact. I will still continue lessons. And, as a hopeful musician, I am entering a life in which I will be judged regularly by outsiders: audition panels, teachers, etc... But I must nonetheless be able to judge my own progress and abilities. I must trust myself.

So this we add to the list of things I must watch closely in the coming year: Organization. Discipline. Self-accountability. Self-worth. I've studied intensively outside of school before - on summer breaks, I've managed quite a bit of learning these past few years. Let's see how I do for more than three months.

I'm actually quite confident, and excited, even. I envision detailed schedules and logs, studious autodidacticism. These are comforting thoughts to someone who, from the age of five, has always dreamt of going back to classes a month into summer vacation.