Campbell Vertesi

I SEE!!!!

I had LASIK eye surgery yesterday.  All I can say is, holy crap it's amazing.  HOLY CRAP it's AMAZING.  

Those of you who know me in real life, know that I wear (wore) glasses all the time.  I had a high prescription, and was essentially blind without my glasses.  I wore contacts for many years, but my eyes gradually developed a sensitivity to them, to the point where I couldn't even wear them for performance.  About two and a half years ago, I started just singing blind everytime I went onstage.  

Singing without vision is one thing; it even has benefits.  For instance, it's kind of nice not to be able to see the audience in an audition.  I have friends who would agonize about the reactions of the audition panel  - that was never a problem for me,  because I was barely aware that there WAS an audition panel!   It made it very easy to go into my own world dramatically, not to be bothered by the reality of the objects in the room. 

On the other hand, acting and singing on stage without glasses was a treacherous endeavor.  In the first place, I'm an "eye contact actor" - I find that making communicatigve eye contact with my colleagues on stage is a very effective way to get and stay "in the moment".  Unfortunately, without glasses eye contact was impossible in all but the most intimate moments.  Not to mention the physical problem of moving around on a stage where you can't see anything.  I always had to do the first few rehearsals on stage in my glasses, until I got used to the position of all the steps, props and scenery in my way.  More than a few times I would miss steps on stairs, or run into props.

But all of that is no more!  As of today, I CAN SEE!!  The procedure was painless and over in less than 10 minutes, and even my vision test less than 24 hours later rated me at 20/15 vision - that is to say, better than 20/20 "normal" vision.  I still have some sensitivity to light; today I found I prefer wearing sunglasses outside.  I also see a halo around bright objects; even the layout of my webpage has a cool little halo effect around the white parts.  All of this is supposed to disappear in a few days - though some people end up having to live with slight halo-ing.  Actually, I kind of like the look of this page with a halo.  I think that after the effect wears off, I'm going to see about adding it to the page itself... :)

The point is, if you're considering laser eye surgery, DO IT.  It's painless, quick, and effective.  I'm certainly pleased with my results, and I'm not even fully recovered yet! 

I recently found out about an incredible tenor who's been singing at all the great houses for the last 30 years, but who has somehow managed to fly under the radar, fame-wise. His name is Giuseppe Giacomini, and why he is not a household name is beyond me. Seriously, the more I listen to this guy the more his high notes make me gesticulate wildly and cheer out loud.

He sounds like a baritone. A baritone with the best B natural on the freaking planet! See if you can stay in your seat listening to this one.

How did you do? I managed to stay sitting this time, but I had to beat the air with my fists during the high notes. And I let out a little "bravo" at the end, though I tried so hard not to.

The fact that this man sang like this for 30 years at every great house from Scala to the Met, and is not a household name like Corelli or Pavarotti is amazing to me. Amazing, and sort of depressing. So I consider it a mitzvah to pass on this forbidden knowledge to you. Now go and share the gospel of Giacomini with all of your friends.

It's been a month since I returned from Sarasota Opera - high time for an update, methinks.  I've waited a long time to write this post, because... well, honestly I needed time to decompress and process my experience. 

My experience with Sarasota Opera changed me, and I'm still not 100% clear on what all those changes were.  Broadly, I learned what it really means to be a professional opera singer, in terms of outward appearances as well as the internal discipline required.  I had my passion for the art re-energized, and learned to identify the sorts of experiences that had worked against it.  Perhaps more than anything else, I remembered what it felt like to really live IN the music.

Of all the crimes we have committed against the operatic art form, the obsession with "perfect technique" has to rank near the top.  Students are taught to scrutinize each individual note, each individual vowel, and every breath; to the point where the music disappears completely.  Students learn to be so afraid of singing anything "wrong" - wrong technique, wrong for their voice, wrong for their development, wrong anything at all - that they become afraid of the music.  They learn to be afraid of making an individual sound,  or of making a - god forbid - individual artistic choice.  So they all work very diligently towards becoming very careful, very safe singing machines.

What students aren't taught is what audiencees really want, and that is passion for the music, intensity in the characters, and real communication with the audience.  Ther is actually music out there that will get you out of your seat and screaming with excitement - and that's what we should be giving the ticketholders.  To have every note a perfectly pear-shaped tone is nice, and beautiful.  But it will leave an audience dead unless it is motivated by such  powerful emotion that you may as well be screaming.

Lest we forget our priorities: Corelli had serious technical flaws in his singing, but DAMN!  Just try and listen to him sing without getting out of your seat! Price was always exhausted by the time Pace, Pace came on at the end of Forza... but holy crap - you just can't BREATHE while she's singing it.  Tebaldi sang on pitch for maybe 3 high notes in her career - but what a sound, and what emotion!  Del Monaco recordings are hit and miss; sometimes you get the most beautiful tenor sound you could imagine,  sometimes he was just yelling.  But his Otello was a rollercoaster for anyone within range.  They were not always good technical singers - but they were all very emotive, passionate singers.  

In Sarasota, I learned that a real professional opera singer has that kind of emotion on call for every rehearsal.  It is his business to be obsessive about the music and text.  It is his business to throw himself into the most intense human drama imaginable, over and over again.  It is his business to make decisions about the music - decisions that some people will hate, and others will love. An opera singer's job is to take risks with his emotions and his music - and that's something I never learned as a student.

 On my last post,  an anonymous commenter said

"He has turned pro, knows he can't rant & rave like he did before--end of story."

I'd like to respond by saying, YES I've turned pro, but my policy on ranting/raving remains unchanged.  Unfortunately, being professional means that writing in my blog has taken a back seat to learning my music and singing myself hoarse every day. I'm having a great time learning Ramfis (Aida) and Geronte (Manon Lescaut) for my summer gig with Utah Festival Opera though, and I don't think I can resist sharing that with you for long!

It's nice to be back. 

... it's cheaper than plastic surgery.  I wonder if I've used that joke here before?  Probably.  Ah well, that's basically where I am with Sarasota Opera at the moment.  We're in the process of opening our fourth show of the season right now, while we are running the other three.  Most days we have a dress rehearsal and a performance - that takes a lot of energy!  We're also rehearsing our second round of scenes to start performing in a couple of days.  Whew!

It's been a gruelling few months, I must say.  It's great though.  Opera for 8 hours a day, 6 days a week is a wonderful, intense way to geek out for a few months!  On the down side,  I'm pooped and some people are even worried about vocal damage from the demanding schedule.  On the up side, when we get a day off, the next day I can sing anything I want.  Inquisitor duet?  Sure.  Osmin scenes?  No problem.  Mephisto serenade?  Fine.  It took me awhile to get used to this - the first few times I discovered my newfound "chords of steel", I spent the entire afternoon blowing myself out on big repertoire.  Now I'm getting better, conserving my voice but still singing the big, fun stuff.  It's pretty cool though...

We've only got three weeks left here in Sarasota.  I'm already looking to my next gig - cover Ramfis (Aida) and Geronte (Manon Lescaut) at Utah Festival Opera over the summer.  This was an interesting gig to get - I didn't actually audition, since I was trying to take a year for vocal development.  But they offered such tantalizing (and useful) roles for me to learn, I couldn't resist!  Plus, I know my technique improves every time I go away to a program, so odds are I'll learn more than just music while I'm there. We shall see.  Meantime, I've picked up an Aida score and am starting to work...  more on that later, I'm sure.

Also, hopefully when I have a life again I'll be able to post more than once every few weeks!  No promises this time though.  Unfortunately, writing blogs is not the top method to become a great singer.  There are other items that have to come higher on the priority list :)  .  But I still enjoy it, so this space isn't going away anytime soon.

I had a funny experience yesterday that's stuck in my mind.  The company arranges for a cleaning service come to our artists' apartments once every two weeks, which is great.  Yesterday, the cleaner found a big pile of earplugs on my roommate's bedside table. 

He asked me completely honestly and earnestly what they were for.  At first I didn't understand; earplugs have a pretty obvious function after all.  I explained that sometimes our neighbors sing in the mornings, so the plugs are for sleeping in. "Oh," said the cleaner - "so they're not for... work or anything?"  

"No,"

"Oh good - because I'm sending my daughter to see the opera this Saturday, and you know... I didn't want her to go unprepared..."

That's when I figured it out.  He was worried that people might need earplugs in the AUDIENCE. Take a moment to process that.

This experience was a reality check for me.  We live in our little musicians' world and forget that for the vast majority of the country, opera is a completely foreign universe.  Foreign enough that people aren't even sure if you should wear earplugs or not.  Never mind the musical context, applause conventions, dress codes, and Italian vocabulary...this art form must seem REALLY unapproachable to people.  Kind of amazing - it completely re-frames the question of Opera's place in American culture.  I'm thinking about it a lot this week.

And I really hope his daughter enjoys herself this Saturday.  Apparently the Act II quartet regularly gets 4 and 5 minutes of applause, and often an encore... I hope she gets to see that. 

Opening night was today - for the 2008 season, for Rigoletto, and for the brand new minty fresh renovated opera house... and it was a great hit.  My cousin Tim was in town to see the whole thing, and I think he may have gotten some pictures... so look for them later.  But he got to see the ribbon cutting and the whole shabang, including the after party still to come.  So maybe I'll post some incriminating photos of that, too (probably not, but keep hoping!).

The show went very well.  Michael Corvino sang the socks off Rigoletto, which we in the chorus have come to expect.  After weeks of rehearsing, we've learned that Michael is not stopped by rain, snow, or dark of night.  That man can SING.  Hell, the whole cast was very solid tonight, and the audience appreciated it.  It was a great way to open the new theatre.

Now I have to go get into the shower to get the curls out of my hair (they pin the hell out of it to get it in my wig), and get coiffed for the party.  Wohoo!! We've certainly earned it.

I did some early spring cleaning on my computer tonight, going through old files that I don't need anymore and the like.  I found some of my old recordings, from the very first concerts I gave in Vancouver.  At that point I had been studying with Joseph Shore for all of a year and a half, and had quite recently switched to one of his students (Eric Hominick) when Maestro Shore moved away.  I was a complete baby to singing,  and to music.

And in many ways, I was a better singer than I was when I left IU.  Actually, there is an honesty, an ease and a clarity in the sound that I am working very hard to recapture NOW, almost 6 years later. 

Sometimes, the best way to advance is to return to the beginning.

Today is our first off-book rehearsal for I Due Foscari.  Color me panicked.  Rigoletto was a lot of words to learn, but it was mostly vernacular Italian.  This piece uses a lot of poetic wording, and is frankly being a pain in my ass.  I'll write again once I've reviewed my score. :)

Not much new to report - I'm still singing my butt off (thankfully,  now with some technique back) and I'm still spending lots of time in rehearsal.  This week we started Rigoletto stagings, which has been fun.  There's some dancing - I can't believe how terrible I am at it, but somehow I still get picked for these things.  The best part is getting to watch the principals do their work.  There's nothing unpleasant about listening to Cortigiani sung well, over and over!    It also means that on breaks, I can stop in and watch the stagings for the non-chorus scenes.  Maybe it's only 5 minutes at a time, but it's still fun for me.  So sue me - I'm an opera nerd. :)

I had a very interesting discussion with one of the coaches here recently.  I have always been of the opinion that acting in opera can be - indeed, should be - every bit as nuanced as stage acting.  That is to say, your characters should have all the depth and complexity of a real human being.  I have always placed a special emphasis on subtext in my arias, so that they can be more than just "he's sad".  But this particular coach disagreed.

The argument is that we have many more constraints in opera, which prevent us from taking too much freedom with our characters.  In the first place, the audience generally doesn't speak the language we're singing, so nuance in the text does not get conveyed.  There are also the musical constraints of timing, pitch and duration. Stage actors get more tools than operatic singers do, so they can expect their audiences to pick up on character subtleties and thought much better.

One example is the idea of Carmen, who seems to have no fear whatsoever, laughing in the face of predestined death with her last lines to Don Jose.  I think that something like that would make the scene much more intense, highlighting her acceptance of fate in a scary sort of way.  A character who laughs as she goes to her death would have me on the edge of my seat... if nothing else in fascination at this twisted person.  But according to this argument, opera audiences couldn't get anything that deep.  They'd just wonder why she was laughing, and lose their connection to the opera.

The example that brought the whole discussion up was Colline's "coat" aria from La Boheme.  I see Colline as a guy who uses humor and pseudo-intellectualism as a defense mechanism.  When Mimi enters, he goes from this chatty jokester to dead silent for about 15 minutes, watching everything take place.  When he finally does say something, I don't think he's aware of any of the symbolism of the coat or any of that crap.  I think he's just grasping at straws to try and cope with the reality of the imminent death of a dear friend.  Humor is his defense - he is trying to make a joke at a funeral, because he just doesn't get what to do.  

The piece comes to a climax with this stupid line about the books in his pockets, not because the pockets are of any importance,  but because Colline is struggling to keep this defense up against the weight of the situation.  He gets poco rall and rallentando during that line, until he reaches the words "filosofi e poeti" (philosophers and poets), ostensibly describing the works in the pockets of the coat.  In my interpretation, this is where he finally gets it, and realizes that what he's really doing is singing a funeral for his friend.  After all, he is a philosopher, and Rodolfo the mourning lover is a poet.  The only things Colline can manage to say after that moment are broken "addio"s, in ever descending lines.

I think that this aria is Colline's defense falling apart, as he is forced to come to terms with the reality of Mimi's death.  The text is so straightforward, but it is the subtext that makes the aria so poignant.

Apparently opera audiences can't be expected to pick up on anything so complex as a human being struggling to keep it together, and then falling apart emotionally under the weight of the situation.  I'd like to hear your thoughts...