Text and Notes- The Chicken and the Egg

So, in looking at my daunting used Ricordi La Traviata score- the inevitable question arises...how do I begin? Translations first? Or notes first? Then work on the pronunciation? Well, how I usually do it is in exactly that order- translate the entire opera (everyone's parts), then work on the notes- usually on a neutral vowel or buzzing "chipmunk" sound, then, I put it together with pronunciation work done immediately before hand. But- you know what- I don't think this method is working and I don't think it's the way to approach La Traviata.

The first reason is what I stated above: whatever I am doing isn't working. I feel like it takes weeks/months of work and the light bulb never goes off, and more importantly, I never get the job. Hence, I am willing to throw the baby out with the bathwater in hopes of finding the dirt, cleaning it off, and continuing the process. Reason two has to do with Verdi's over-lording (not over-seeing, mind you) approach of working with the librettist, Francesco Maria Piave. Piave didn't really have much independent input; it's very much a marvel he gets credit at all. Therefore, it is my belief that the story told the music and the music told the text, instead what usually happens- or, at least in lieder with poetry dictating the musical line.

With these two reasons I am trying a revolutionary approach- all three at once! Yes, learning the notes on oo and ah, speaking the text, translating and and slowly putting it together (which goes something like oo..alfredoo..oodioo..mi moonchi...etc).

I have no idea if this will work!

5 minutes later- a light bulb went off- it's already happening! I had a strong lieder background and always went to the poem first, but perhaps opera has a larger and more integrated relationship with the emotional scope of the character's journey and the lyrics are the guideposts that keeps the emotions moving forward?

...onward with the dirty bath water!

"We'd Be Surprisingly Good For You!"

Dear Friends,
Sorry I haven't been up to my blogging self-- I have a new cabaret show this Sunday, November 14th- 8 pm at The Triad (72nd between Amsterdam and Columbus). Hope to see you there!

Origami- Between the (Vocal) Folds

I don't know what makes me more of a nerd- watching a documentary on origami or blogging about it? But, here I am- inspired by the strangest of crafts. One sheet of paper and the world is your oyster, or swan, or whatever you can come up with via the most minute of folding detail, and of course--it brings me to Violetta.

We are all born with our voice box. It is up to us how we shape it (fold it?), nurture it and let it be what it needs to be. But, with that comes much study, much technique, much head-banging and self doubt. Then, the light comes from out of the fog and something takes shape and eureka, you have found whatever it is you are looking for- without really knowing what it is until you are there! At least, this is what I am told as I am still at the head-banging part, but I digress.

With origami (yes, I am really sticking with this comparison!) comes much technique. Not only in the ability to fold teeny tiny corners to its perfect fold, but the ability to see the shape and then in creating it. This takes years of experience, trial and error, or nowadays- to some- the tainting of origami contests.

One of the newest crazes in the world of origami, according to this movie, is the ability to create the most complex shape with the least amount of folds. To some artisans, this ruins the organic nature of creation because origami becomes more about technique and less about the act of creation and paper folding. But, in support of the contests- one artist said that it takes years of technique to find one's art and that this art would have never been found without years of mastering one's technique.

I find that very interesting. In this day and age, art is highly regarded by those amazing technicians who are applauded for accomplishing amazing feats. But then, what do they bring to the music or painting or play? Just fireworks. However, they shouldn't be dismissed for not having any artistry because maybe it is through this vast dense study that will bring them to the other side- the eureka side. And shouldn't we nurture them to take that journey? Assuming they are brave enough to do so?

Which leads to me (well, it is my blog!)-- I have really good technique. Honest. It is one of the things I hear most from people. Man, your technique is solid! Really? Then, why am I blogging and not in a rehearsal room right now? I will tell you why- I cower in it. It's a safe place for me. I know what to expect in the maze of vocal questions- I am comfortable in the maze of vocal questions. The more difficult the music, the more I want to learn it because I am so happy being wrapped up in questions. For me, technique has become so much about finding answers that I forget to just sing. But maybe I should just fold the paper, take a step back, not try to create and just see what (ready to be cheezed out)...lies between the vocal folds!

Another Violetta Gone

I read Dame Sutherland’s obituary today in the NY Times (Tommasini). And, I am not going to even try to describe her amazing voice or her influence in this blog; but, one thing did stick from the article about her and it came from a critic! It was this:

In a glowing and perceptive review of her performance as Desdemona in Verdi’s “Otello” at Covent Garden in London in late 1957, the critic Andrew Porter, writing in The Financial Times, commended her for not “sacrificing purity to power.” This is “not her way,” Mr. Porter wrote, “and five years on we shall bless her for her not endeavoring now to be ‘exciting’ but, instead, lyrical and beautiful.

Instead of being an exciting talent, she was going to be a beautiful one.

I wish, more then anything on this planet, that I was taught this at 18 years old. I wish that I didn’t get nodules twice in trying to prove that I could be an exciting talent and that it didn’t take getting nodules twice for me to be blissfully content in trying to be a beautiful one. I don’t know why in today’s society we have to be fast, daring, or constantly on the edge, in order to prove that we are “artists”. What about depth? Discipline? Knowledge?

I worked on my first bit of Violetta yesterday with a dear friend and teacher. We later texted (and this is ironic considering our conversation) that learning a role for learning a role's sake is the best and only way to learn how to sing properly. Now I know I won’t only meet Violetta but I will also meet my voice! With time on my side, I can explore my various soundmaking noises to find the perfect mix to with which to greet Violetta. This old school way of doing things- learning over time, being strict with oneself and not doing what everyone else tells you to do “to make it”—this way is how Sutherland became “La Stupenda”.

I'm not saying this will happen to me. But, there is something very rewarding in knowing that a super star took the same steps (albeit sooner!) to find her way and that she discovered a beautiful Violetta while doing it.

Exploration of Sound

I went to hear Magnus Lindberg's, Kraft, with the New York Philharmonic at Avery Fisher Hall last Friday. It's a 30 minute piece where the percussion instruments include oxygen tanks and a gong suspended over the audience with 10 stations smartly placed throughout the hall - giving you the actual live Dolby effect like they do nowadays in movie theatres (the piece was written in the 80s). At the very beginning of the concert, Alan Gilbert, the music director of the NY Philharmonic, described that the entire concert was an "exploration of sound". This has been a noble, sometimes loud, mission for 20th century composers and I couldn't help (of course!) but relate this to what I am trying to do by tackling Violetta.

In meeting her, I have been trying to find "my sound." And I have been very conscious of timbre and tone by listening to various Violetta recordings. All the singers have different voices and different interpretations naturally come with that. But, I am not Callas. I am me and finding a consistent sound has been an arduous 15 year journey (something I need to figure out before I figure out interpretations)! I have a bright sound when I sing musical theatre, I have a narrow sound when I think of oo, I have a dark sound when I sing oh, and when I sing ah...well, it's usually stuck with a swallowed tongue, so I try to change it by thinking "ice" when singing "ah" (try it). I have a high sound when I don't breathe well, and a low (supportive) sound after running for a few miles. When I warm up I ask myself what is the best most efficient way to produce sound and beautiful sound at that? When I am singing a song, I am thinking what legato line will illuminate the poetry in its best form or tell the story most effectively? All I do is explore sound and I am losing my mind trying to make it into one! How ironic! Lindberg is breaking the mold but I am still trying to find it. However, what I really took from this concert was to not "explore sound" as individual pieces- but as a whole, combining many disjoint parts and making it something that stands on its own. In other words, I need to embrace all my various idiosyncratic sounds in order to create my one complete whole sound....hopefully, meeting Violetta on the way.

A small side note:
The Webster's Dictionary defines "sound" as: the sensation produced by stimulation of the organs of hearing by vibrations transmitted through the air or other medium. It also defines it as: free from damage, defect or disease; in good condition. Very poignant for a girl who had nodules... no wonder I am so obsessed with exploring it!

Delusions

I went to see (hear/watch/absorb) Laurie Anderson's new show (project/experience) at Brooklyn Academy of Music, "Delusion". Honestly, I didn't know what I was experiencing, or watching or absorbing, but I left feeling kind of elated. True, it's been a few months since I had seen a live concert, and it's been years since I was part of one (which is a good thing), so maybe it was the fact that I had no idea what was next. But, I also think this non-sequitur program was the point of the entire experienced Delusion. Ms. Anderson is a violinist/story-teller/composer/visual artist. Her show goes from one story to the next, always ending with a perfect one line conclusion. But, if you asked me what those lines where, I can't recall. It was moving so fast from one to the next, one didn't have time to absorb what was happening. Random dreamscapes are described, with mesmerizing strange projections, and then cool Radiohead Kid-A- esque music or minimalistic melodies are played...and then off to another story, again and again for 90 minutes. Some of you are probably saying- this sounds dreadful and exhausting! But, it wasn't. There was no time to day dream, no time to think about my grocery list or what to do for work tomorrow, no time to think "what does she mean?". Which brings the point to all of this. I was finally "in the moment" and it was multi-media that brought me there. With the lights, sound, and stories, I was experiencing my ... experience. No distractions amid the distractions! And it was these distractions that created my own delusion of time and space and thought.

Last year, in a recital, I experienced this "in the moment" feeling. Every note is perfectly crafted and every syllable purposely enhanced. You see the phrase like a straight line of pearls, with each pearl lightly danced on. You are present, non-judgmental, watching and confident of each moment as it bubbles up. Perhaps it is this delusion of hoping for another performance like this which is keeping me going from one audition to the next! ;)

The Lady of Camellias- The Story vs. The Opera

I just finished Alexandre Dumas, Jr's book The Lady Of Camellias, published in 1848. This book not only inspired Verdi to compose an opera, but numerous film makers and actresses coveted to tell her story (so I am not alone!). But...with all this fuss...the book was just ok. Here's how:

The librettist for La Traviata (meaning- the fallen woman) was Francesco Maria Piave. Although, based on the very very little research I found on him, it can be discerned that Verdi probably had a lot to due with it's absolute GENIUS-NESS!

This is why it's Genius-ness:
1. POV: The book is told in the eyes of the man, Armand (Alfredo, in the opera). The opera is told in the eyes of the woman, Violetta (Marguerite, in the book). This 360 degree turn is especially effective because of the climax of both story and opera- the reason Violetta/Marguerite leaves Alfredo/Armand. In the opera the audience witnesses the duet in Act II when Violetta and Alfredo's father, Mr. Germont, have the heartbreaking exchange revealing that in order for Alfredo's sister to have a good life (i.e marry well), Violetta must save the Germont name and leave Alfredo. In the book, you have no idea why Marguerite left- only that she did in the middle of the night, and went back to another rich lover. But, in the opera, by the audience seeing Violetta's heartbreak, both with Mr. Germont, and later with her reaction to Alfredo's utter contempt for her existence, the audience experiences a bottomless pit of compassion for this woman. She can never marry well, she gave up that long long ago - but because she was close to having all she wanted and knowing she made choices in her life that cannot expect her to have the life she wants (i.e living as a wife in the country with Alfredo), she clearly sees that her only choice is to give a younger girl something that is actually within this young girl's grasp by giving this young girl the life Violetta covets. But, in the book, you know that there is a good reason Marguerite left Armand because 50 pages prior, Armand feels so guilty for not being at her death bed. Therefore, the drama is dragged out with the ending already told at the beginning (perhaps because people wouldn't be so shocked in reading the first few chapters and therefore, sympathy needed to be felt from the reader immediately).

2. Tension. Tension! Tension!!
In Act I of the opera, Violetta and Alfredo meet and he declares her love for him. She says, basically, thanks but no thanks...and then quickly (and alone) reveals that maybe she really is in love with this guy. Act II starts a few months later with the happy couple living in country-life bliss. Then, Alfredo's father, Mr. Germont, pops in on Violetta alone and asks her to leave Alfredo to keep the family name pure so his daughter can marry. Alfredo returns to the house with Violetta in distress, they sing of love and she then leaves unexpectedly leaving him a Dear John note. He also finds an invitation to a ball that evening. He thinks she left for a richer suitor and goes to the ball enraged. At the ball, he embarrasses her (we're talking extreme Jersey Shore drama for the 1850s) and she faints. In the book, they meet very similarly and then for 20 pages are madly in love with each other with jealously added in for spice. He goes to Paris to see his father, who tells him he must leave her. He says no and goes home to find Marguerite gone. He then finds her next in Paris with a rich suitor and he is consumed with jealousy. What makes the opera work is that Act II describes the outside events surrounding the climax. We don't see the love scenes (or just one, knowing Violetta is about to leave) and we don't need to because the drama is played out with Violetta's reaction to being asked to leave Alfredo and Alfredo's behavior at the ball. It's this tension that makes the drama and not the constant need to explain to an audience how one should feel.

3. The ending/beginning.
In the book, you know the ending. You know she dies and dies poor. You see that she is in debt, the reason that Armand can't ask her to leave her profession, and this debt consumes her to the end. In the opera, you don't know any of this- till the end- and I prefer it. Zeffirelli, a very famous Italian director who made the opera into an award winning movie and continues to have his adored production at the Met going on now for 20 years plus, prefers to add this beginning to the overture. I never liked this and the book made me like this approach even less. The book and Z's production start at an auction at Violetta's house after her death, with all her furniture covered in sheets. Once the overture concludes, you are immediately transported back in time with the lifting of the sheets on the furniture and voila, the opera written by Verdi continues. The book continues at the auction for several pages and reveals what I think is the best part of the book- the mingling of classes to look at Marguerite's stuff! Here, as told in the book, ladies are seeing what this scandalous person possessed and their reactions and "minglings" are described in delicious detail. As in our day with the Lohans and the Hiltons, people love scandal and gossip! But, back to the opera- in Z's production, the ending is told at the beginning, albeit accurately and beautifully, and the audience knows very consciously what happens and how. Yes, you could say- everyone knows what happens!- but I don't necessarily need to be reminded right as the curtain goes up...unless someone writes a one act about it for another evening!