Fun in the Mountains

As some of you may know, I am having a grand time in the Colorado Rockies, participating in Central City Opera’s 2010 season. Among my assignments are Goro in the Family Performance of “Madama Butterfly” (find out more here) and Mercury in EVERY performance of “Orpheus in the Underworld.”

If you need more information on the Orpheus poduction, you can go here. But all you really need to know is that it is a completely zany, madcap and fun show without an ounce of anything serious.
Check the videos below to get an idea of just of fun the show can be (bonus: you can try to find me doing the Twist in the Act I finale!) And if you stop by to see the show, be sure to let me know!

Honored and Humbled

This evening’s rehearsal was a full run through of the chorus scenes of Lucia. Before we started, the full cast was asked to assemble for some announcements. Maestro Dean Williamson, the conductor of Lucia, and the artistic director of Opera Cleveland stood up: he was going to announce the winners of the Young Artist Awards for the season.

The winners are typically picked from the chorus, as members who show promise and dedication to the art form. I was completely stunned an shocked to hear my name: I was this year’s recipient of the “Belle O. Morse Young Artist Award.” I did not know what to say, so i just gave Maestro Williamson a big hug and said “Thank Y’all”

This is what I should have said, and what in hindsight I would like to say:

Opera Cleveland is where I grew up as a singer, as an artist, as a performer, and as a person. I started my work with the company four years ago, in the chorus of “Pirates of Penzance” and “Abduction from the Seraglio.” After my first summer in Cleveland, and feeling I had found a city that was what I was looking for, I decided to move there. I was thrilled to return to the chorus of Opera Cleveland the following season for “La Traviata.” I was also very blessed to have the chance to play Henrik in “A Little Night Music” that summer, which I consider to be a major landmark in my career. It was the first time I felt immensely proud of my achievement. Since then, I have been lucky enough to return again to Opera Cleveland, in the chorus of “La Boheme,” and then to sing two roles in “Le Nozze di Figaro.” This season, I am working with Opera Cleveland in three different productions. I have also participated in four educational programs and tours.
This company has taken great care of me, has fostered what talent they saw in me, and has been a vital part of my career. I am blessed to have all of you at Opera Cleveland in my life. I hope to make you proud of my work this season, and I thank you for once more helping re-affirm the joy I find in my work.
Thank you.

Lucia di Corleone

We have now been rehearsing Lucia di Lammermoor for a couple of weeks, and things are really starting to take shape. I was very interested to discover, from reading Walter Scott’s novel “The Bride of Lammermoor” that the story is based on a supposedly true story. The Wikipedia summary of this real-life event reads as follows:

“In the mid 1600’s, Janet, the eldest daughter of Sir James Dalrymple was betrothed to David Dunbar, heir of Sir David Dunbar of Baldoon. As was the custom, the marriage was arranged by her parents but Janet loved Archibald, third Lord Rutherford, even though his family was virtually penniless. Janet’s parents had no use for poor Archibald. They forbid the relationship, insisting that she marry David. Out of duty to the tradition, Janet married David in the church of Old Luce, two miles from her home at Carsecleugh Castle. It was a hot summer day, but her brothers both recollect that Janet’s hands were “cold as ice,” as she walked down the aisle. “I don’t want to be with him,” Janet said to them. The same night, after the married couple entered the bedchamber at Baldoon Castle, screaming was heard from the room. When the door was forced open, the staff found Dunbar stabbed and nearly dead. Young Janet was bloodied and clasping a knife, raving and crying. She was judged to be insane and died within a month.”

The director is the brilliant Tomer Zvulun, who has re-centered the action into continental Europe in the 30s. This had added a measure of immediacy to the whole proceedings. I mean, who actually understands the rules and regulations of Scottish clans in the first part of the 1700s? However, move the action to Mafia families of the 1930s, and everyone has some sort of understanding of how “things” work. Tomer has really been pushing me outside of my box, my comfort zone, my… whatever you want to call it, and I think with his help, I am starting to develop a very interesting arc for Normanno (the role I am playing). I am exploring foolish pride, arrogance, emotional revenge, and the slow decline that leads to devastating guilt throughout the show. I am having an amazing time discovering how far I can go with all of this.

You can follow Carl, the Opera Chicken, mascot of Opera Cleveland, to get regular updates on the rehearsals, and some pictures too!

Paris in the Springtime

It’s been far too long since I have posted anything…
Since I last spoke up here, I have had the great luck of being in a great production of Carmen in Youngstown, OH, and then I sang a benefit concert in Boston of “Le nozze di Figaro” with a bunch of friends. It was very fulfilling to put my art to good use - we raised some significant money for the Partners in Health “Stand with Haiti” campaign

I am now spending the month of March in Paris, visiting friends and family, and trying to find some work in Europe (which, it turns out, is not easy to do!) I had a quick trip to Frankfurt to visit my friend Elaine Alvarez, who sang a brilliant “Rondine” at the Alte Oper. What a fabulous show!

My next stop will be Cleveland in April, where I start rehearsals for Lucia di Lammermoor, starring Nili Riemer (with whom i also got to hang out in Frankfurt, lucky me)

Finally, here is a little video that makes me smile. Hopefully, it will fill your day with gleeful laughter as well. (I love the 60s!)

Traviata Opening Night

After resting all day and getting my body and voice in the right frame of mind for a performance (mostly watching movies and warming up in the shower seems to be what happens on those days), I headed for the theater early. I have the first make up call of the show, which turns out to be a lovely thing. I am the first one there, and have ample time to relax before the hustle and bustle of the arrival of the rest of the cast, chorus, orchestra all show up. It gets pretty noisy backstage, and I cherish those moments of quiet and peace.

Cass, my amazing makeup artist, has prepped a wonderful wig and sideburns. After the incredible transformation of makeup and wig, I don’t even recognize myself. On the night of the first dress rehearsal, a few of the choristers did not recognize me at all until I started singing my lines on stage!

Gastone in Act I (Violetta’s Party) and Gastone in Act III (Spanish Party)

After the transformation, I had still more time to finish writing my opening night cards (I usually try to take care of the cast on opening night, and the crew on closing night). And then it was time to get in costume, finish warming up and get onstage.

The stage is set at a fairly steep rake, which gives the audience a great visual help in seeing what is going on at all times. It also is a great bonus to the beautiful stage pictures that our director, the amazing Kathleen Clawson, has devised for the party scenes. I seem, however, to always get myself in trouble on raked stages. Last year, I was playing Don Curzio in a wheelchair (and let me tell you, a free rolling wheelchair with no brakes on a raked stage is a terrifying thing).
This year, Kathleen asked to participate in a dance number for the Act III party scene. The company brought in a flamenco dancer, who is performing for the Gypsy chorus. In addition to that, she and I dance throughout the men’s chorus (about Piquillo, the matador). Well, I learned basic steps of Flamenco, which Jeanne d’Arc Casas, the dancer, taught me very patiently. After hours of rehearsals, I think I am acquitting myself rather nicely of the steps I have to do onstage (when I am not worrying about falling over on that raked stage). Our dance number received thunderous applause last night, so I was well pleased!

The cast did exceptionally well last night. Shana-Blake Hill, singing her first performance of Violetta ever, was perfect. She has the warmth, color, power, high extension, emotional vulnerability and thrust to get through this role easily. Her voice is impressively expressive, and she is a beautiful actress in addition. I cannot wait to sing with her again in another production!
Chad Johnson, our Alfredo, was also impeccable. He has an easy lyric voice, with lots of color and a rare emotional range. He hits every note with such intention, and his pianissimi are the envy of everyone! His high C, at the end of the (ususally cut) Act II cabaletta is one of the easiest Cs I have ever heard. He makes a great case at to why that cabaletta needs to be performed! I am also incredibly lucky to have become his friend. He is as wonderful offstage as he is onstage.

Tonight, the cast of Traviata is performing a benefit at MJ’s, a local bar in Dayton, staring at 10PM. Please join us if you have the chance!

Ist ein Traum, kann nicht wirklich sein…

In 1997, the Paris Opera presented Der Rosenkavalier. I remember it distinctly: the gorgeous production was by the genius Herbert Wernicke, and the cast included Renée Fleming, Susan Graham and Barbara Bonney. The evening was magical. Perfect. Mind altering. Luckily, there was a radio broadcast of one of the performances, and I managed to record it. It is a recording I still listen to quite often, and which I cherish dearly.

Decca is now releasing this production with a new cast, recorded last January in Baden-Baden. Now don’t go thinking that I they are paying me to talk about this DVD. I have only seen excerpts on Youtube, and I feel I have to post them here. The cast (Renée Fleming, Sophie Koch, Diana Damrau) is as perfect as the Parisian cast was. If anything, Renée Fleming is in even more glorious voice, and her interpretation seems nuanced and refined.

I am posting a few excerpts here, in the hopes that you will watch them. This is an exceptional opera, and these excerpts really deserve a listen (and a watch)!

Enjoy them (hopefully, as much as I have). I am off to buy the DVD this instant!

Act I Monologue

Act II: Presentation of the Rose

Act III trio

If you like any of this, RUN to see the Metropolitan Opera production.  I had tickets to go see it on October 13, but as I am now singing in Dayton, I will be unable to attend.  I am glad the tickets have found a good home: Bruno, you’re going to love it!

THE DECORUM OF DISSENSION



A lot of fuss has been made, in the past few weeks, about the current trend of booing at the Metropolitan Opera. This is a tradition that has been in place for decades (centuries?) in Europe; the Italian and the French are particular adepts of it.  However, in the USA, tradition in recent years has been to cheer but not to boo.  When my dear friend Alexandra Deshorties was very unfairly booed at the Met some years ago, by a lone heckler, it was so shocking that it made the front page of the New York Times Arts section.  She is a great artist, and great artists are very divisive.  Performers who make radical choices onstage will enthrall a part of the audience, but risk incurring the wrath of another faction.  Should the audience let an artist know when he or she has made a choice of which they do not approve?  Should an audience be allowed to boo?



This is a question with which I struggle deeply as someone who performs opera regularly.  I always do my best in performance; I open myself up to the audience, and I give them everything that I have.  The idea of being booed is terrifying to me, and I just don’t know how I would react.  I am incredibly grateful it has not happened to me yet.



I suppose, however, that my main problem with this trend is with the booing here in the USA.  Here, we have become used to a standing ovation for every performance; still, somehow it is frequently accompanied by tepid applause.  This is very confusing for performers, because these two reactions don’t belong together at the same time.  It has become difficult to gauge the audience’s response because it rarely goes beyond polite applause.  Gone are the days in which crowds went wild after a performance.  What has happened to the thirty-minute curtain calls?  How can you give someone a standing ovation and allow them only one curtain call? What has happened to the screaming, the shouting, the throwing of flowers—the demented reactions of a crowd who knows they have been a part of history?



These wild reactions still exist in Europe, where the audience remains very vocal about the performance.  If they loved the show, they will let the singers know.  However, if they did not, beware:  the cold shower of boos will come down swiftly on the singers.



I have seen renowned artists booed horribly during a performance: Maria Ghuleghina for an Odabella in Attila, Carol Vaness as Donna Anna, Rolando Villazon as Werther, Roberto Alagna as Roméo.  I was appalled by such a reaction, and I was left in complete disbelief.  These are artists who, through distinguished careers, have proven to be some of the most generous and talented performers of their generation.  How can an audience boo someone who may be having a difficult evening, or going through a difficult time in their life?  Our voices, as singers, are so deeply affected by our emotions, our state of mind, that it sometimes does not take much to derail the voice from a performance. As professionals, we always do the best we can.  We open our hearts, and pour out our very being into the audience.  How can they fail to see this?



And yet there is a redeeming quality about these boos: the audience is communicating with the performers.  If I have been devastated watching phenomenal performers be booed, I have also erupted in tears of bliss at the insanely enthusiastic response of audiences to an exceptional performance.



A particularly vivid memory is one of Ruth Ann Swenson, after an indescribable performance of Gilda in Rigoletto.  The Parisian audience, as they sometimes do to express wild approval, started clapping rhythmically all together, as if a conductor were telling them to clap on the beat.  The screams of “Brava!”, the “Vive la Swenson!” were so overwhelming that on her third bow, receiving this response again, Ruth Ann Swenson began sobbing.  Her emotion was overwhelming.  She had completely succeeded as a performer; the audience was pouring back all the love and attention she had shared with them during her performance.  It was that night I realized I wanted to perform.  I needed to have the chance to succeed.  Let’s face it: as performers, at least part of us lives for the approval of the audience.  And sometimes, the approval is so overwhelming it can take us by surprise.  I cannot begin to comprehend the utter sense of euphoria she must have been feeling at that point.  All I can remember is an incredible sense of pride at having witnessed that performance.



I believe that, when all is said and done, I am reticent to criticize the “right to boo.”  If the booing comes hand in hand with the overwhelming enthusiastic responses, then I think we should accept it.  Let audiences be emotional, and let them express their hearts.  I would rather the audience let me know when I have utterly failed, and when I have utterly succeeded, rather than never get the immediate feedback that I crave from them.  And audiences … please know, we don’t need a standing ovation for every show.  Save those for the nights when you have been touched beyond your expectations.  But along with your standing ovation, let us hear delirious screams, outrageous bravos—let us know that we have somehow mattered in your life.  And if you must boo, we will try to keep our heads high, and dream of that day you will come back and shout bravos and throw flowers.

I’ll let the great Bard finish my rant:

“If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,

That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck

Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue,

We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.”
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act V

A Night at the Philharmonic

Once more, the wonderful Chuck Duritsch had worked his magic and has managed to get the Dayton Opera Artists in Residence tickets to the Philharmonic.

The concert this evening is pretty special, as it involves Beethoven 9. The tenor soloist is none other than Chad Johnson, the fabulous Alfredo of our Traviata production here in town.

Here are a couple pictures of the magnificient theatre where the Philharmonic performs. It happens to be the same theatre in which we will be performing just two weeks from now:

Finding my way through Traviata

We started rehearsals for Traviata a couple of days ago. Things are going really well, and the cast is phenomenal.
Shana Blake Hill is singing her first Violetta, although you would never guess it. Her voice is just perfect for this role. The colors, the roundness, the tone, the easy high notes and the strong middle voice. Suffice it to say she is going to be one rocking Violetta.
Chad Johnson is also impeccable as Alfredo. He looks the part, to begin with, and he sings it with youthful ardor and enthusiasm. His technique is flawless and his high notes are dazzling.
All in all, this bodes really well for opening night. (GET YOUR TICKETS)
The other Artists In Residence and I fill out the cast, along with the fantastic baritone Kenneth Shaw singing the Barone.

Here is a little clip of the first day sing through. I am not credited, but you’ll see me sitting there, ready to sing my part, just to the right of Kenneth Shaw, and two from the left of Chad Johnson.

I have done the order of the roles in this opera completely backwards. I sang Alfredo when I was quite young with Longwood Opera. Even if I was not quite ready to tackle the challenges of that role (I doubt I will ever sing it again), it was great fun. Next, i sang Giuseppe in Opera Cleveland’s production. Now, with Dayton Opera, I sing Gastone, and thus I have sung all the tenor roles in this opera, which i find very amusing.

The only thing I need to worry about now is remembering, in the gambling scene, which are my lines and which are Alfredo’s. I seem to want to mix them up… So it’s back to the score again to make sure I don’t mess it up!

Insights into the future

There are some moments I think we can have visions of what is to come, in moments of great joy, great sadness, or great exultation. I had a beautiful vision of the upcoming Traviata in Dayton the other night, as I sat in the Schuster Center, listening to the precise, clear, thoughtful playing of the Dayton Philharmonic.

To begin with, the hall is exceptional. It was completed in 2003, boasts incredible acoustics, and the design is very elegantly done. It is a dark wood paneled hall, with accents of dark green and blue. The Opera company had gotten us, very kindly, some tickets to attend the opening weekend concerts, and we were seated in the front row of the loge. There are the best acoustics generally found in a hall, and we certainly were all dazzled by the crystalline quality of the sound. This bodes well for singers who will have to sing over the orchestra. The knowledge that you are singing in a good hall really helps in the psychological preparation. You can focus on the interpretation much more, without having to resort as much to tricks to ensure you are projecting properly. This is the case, which is a great boon. Especially as this will be my first time singing Gastone, and I still have to make sure it is completely in my body.

In addition to that great knowledge, we discovered the Dayton Philharmonic is a top-notch orchestra. The Dayton opera and the Philharmonic have an agreement, and the Opera Orchestra IS the Philharmonic. Traviata is a difficult piece for the orchestra, especially the strings. The overture (and Act III opener) require precise and soft strings, which can prove problematic. Given the incredible playing we heard from that orchestra in Tchaikovsky’s Second Symphony, I can only imagine the orchestra will see Traviata as a walk in the park. I cannot emphasize enough just how good they were!

So now, after having spent a wonderful day off to celebrate my 30th Birthday, I am off to the outreach rehearsals once more. But I looked over my Traviata score yesterday, and with the sound of the orchestra’s playing still in my ear, I could tell just how wonderful this production is going to be!