Riggy, I Can't See You!

Rigoletto was back at the Portland Opera for their final production of the ’08-’09 season. Or as some of us say, “welcome home, Riggy!” Why? Because returning to perform the title role was Mark Rucker who sang in the previous production of Rigoletto in 1998. I must say I was very proud to be a part of the opera chorus at that time and singing with one of the world’s premier Verdi Baritones is not something that another baritone takes lightly. In ’98 I was able to observe Mark in every aspect of his character integration with the show. I say ‘integration’ rather than ‘development’ because Mr. Rucker had performed the role countless times even then. I’m sure he’s got a few dozen more under his belt in the last 11 years. But watching him work behind the scenes was amazing from the first music rehearsal to just before the final curtain when he cries in agony over losing his precious daughter, Gilda. Well, cut 11 years and I’m now in the audience ready to enjoy Rigoletto from an audience perspective on a $20 ticket (thanks to PO’s new policy of “padding the house” on certain days and sections). One thing I will say about this new production is that it was not well lit. After performing a number of operas where the lighting designer throws lights from all angles from the rafters, downstage, and offstage left and right, (and becoming near blinded in the process) this show had minimal lighting. Unfortunately, the beautiful, multi-functional 2-level set was drenched in darkness, and all the wonderful colorful costumes were just so-so in the drisly trickle of illumination. So I say to the lighting designer, "may a thousand points of light sting your eyeballs so you can know what light looks like!" The sound, however, was astounding! Rucker…yo, what can I say? He’s da BOMB! But one thing that stood out this time around was the last scene. Remember in "Godfather III" when Michael Corleone is on the steps of the opera house after his daughter was shot, and he gave that looooong silent scream, then suddenly inhales and wails in dispair? Rucker's wail was like that. Chilling to the bone and heartbreaking. And Gilda, sung by Sarah Coburn, brought the house down with her “Caro nome”. I’m not usually a big fan of twittery coloraturas, but Coburn made me swoon. Peter Volpe was Sparafucile and if there ever was a bass that I want to be when I grow up, it is Mr. Volpe. My favorite memory of the show is in Act II when Sparafucile tells Riggy that he’ll be at the same place every night if he needs him, and walks offstage singing a low F – still resonating in the back of the house! Gotta love a great bass! But by far I am most proud of the men’s chorus. The men’s chorus in Riggy is tough. I mean machine gun, ratta-tat-tat type of patter singing that is not easy to coordinate with 20 men, a 40 piece orchestra, and a baton. But the men were DEAD SOLID PERFECT! I have never, even in recordings, heard the chorus so spot on. Brilliantly sung. Bravo, men! Now the season is closed and we look forward to yet another production of La Boheme in September. I think it’s the 4th time in 15 years that they’ve done this show. Hmmm…must be a moneymaker. I’ll be looking for my $20 tic for this as well.

Is is OK to knit in a crowded Opera House?

I was very pleased to accompany my lovely daughter, Goonie, to the final dress rehearsal of La Traviata. Her mother was singin' in the chorus and Goonie likes to go to see productions that her mamma or daddy are performing in. Since she knew I was taking her to the opera she even dressed up in my favorite purple velvet dress. And it is traditional to enjoy fine dining before going to the opera so we went out to eat - at the local ma & pop diner. I mean, they make the best grilled cheese in Portland! We arrived at the opera house and made our way to the first balcony, row B. Ooooo, I thought, gonna be nice seats. They were! If we paid for that pair of seats for opening night they would have been well over $200! We settled in our seats and that was when I noticed that the lady sitting to my right was awfully fidgety. I didn't want to stare at her so I gave her the 'fish eye' and beheld a sight I've never seen before -- she was knitting! I thought, ok, that's a nice way to help make the time pass until the curtain rises. I fully figured the needles and yarn to be put away when the overture started. Nope. Kept right on knittin'! All - through - the - entire - opera! WTF!?!? Knitting is certainly not as bad as texting a friend with your phone, or being openly flatulent for that matter. But the constant fidgeting and elbowing was most distracting. Especially in Act II when Verdi just could not deem himself to move the plot along fast enough. I think because it was the final dress rehearsal and many of the tickets are 'comp' tics and are given to folks who do not usually attend the opera that someone gave it to a relative who figured the 3,000 seat cavernous theater was just as well as her own living room. Ok, then. I'm determined to pass some gas next time I'm at the opera.

Brother Can You Spare a Dime – or The Unemployed Singer

Recently I’ve revised and updated my accounting resumé in order to try to acquire full time employment and I’ve noticed a distinguishing contrast with my performing resumé. Whereas a business resume (accountant, admin asst, etc.) likes to have little or no signs of unemployment or job skipping, a singer’s resumé works best when littered with numerous jobs and multiple companies. A sign of multiple unemployment is a positive sign that an actor/singer is in demand and has acquired years of experience with different roles and various composers. I’m proud of the multitude of roles and companies listed on my Curriculum Vitae, and am often saddened when I’ve acquired too many credits that some old work has to go. For instance, my first role ever in a musical was Mendel in Fiddler on the Roof performed for a small company in Montana. When the time came to see it drop from the list I took a moment of silence, then ordered another beer in celebration of more recent successes. So if you’re an unemployed performer don’t be gloomy. Put away that cardboard sign that says, “Will Sing For Food.” Keep auditioning and your next (and the next and the next, etc.) gig will add up to a healthy-looking resumé. Oh, by the way: WILL COUNT BEANS FOR FOOD! Gimme a call, eh?

You mean people actually read this crap?

I've been informed by certain power panty wearing blogger(s) that I haven't updated my personal blog in a while, and, under incontrovertible and irrefutable bodily harm I had, "better GODDAMN WRITE SOMETHING OR ELSE I'M COMING TO PORTLAND AND SUPERGLUEING YOUR FINGERTIPS TO THE KEYBOARD!" First, let me thank my limited and mostly likely disillusioned reader(s) for stopping by to check on me now and then. I am alive. I am breathing. And no, I have not been trotted off to jail for triggering a mass killing spree. (yet) I admit, I have for the last three or so months lifted an upturned nose at my keyboard as I saunter past thinking, "no one reads the crap I write." Coupled with a dose of lonely bachelor depression, and a corpulent and zaftig blue collar operatic daily schedule causing much exertion on my hoary bohemian body (not to mention the delicate voce), I have neglected my writing duties. In fact, I was quite thrilled and gratified to be singing full time and not have to count the proverbial beans for "The Man", at least for a partial year. Resultantly, I was away from my humble abode for about six of the last twelve weeks, touring the wide expanse of Oregon and SW Washington. That seemed a good enough excuse to avoid posting details of my vapid life, at least through my eyes. Now my contract of over. I'm home again. Permanently. Jobless. Now I have nothing else to keep me occupied so you're stuck with my pointless drivel and inconsequential scribble. WELCOME BACK, EVIL BARITONE!!! By the way...anyone need a good Bean Counter?

Too Many Stories...Too Little Time

Ever have the opposite of writer's block? You'd think with as much as I'm ignoring the poor bloggy-poo I'm having absolutely nothing to write about. Quite the contrary. Working a full time touring opera with seven other performers giving up to three shows a day for children 5 to 18 gives blog fodder a-plenty. Ah, but it's that other part I mentioned -- up to three shows a day. Whew! Not to mention that the portable set for La Boheme must be unloaded and set up, struck and packed again...sometimes twice a day! The door and frame seen in the pic above must weigh upwards of 250 pounds requiring four burly opera singers (??) to lift and move it. Seems I've left my quiet comfortable bean counting white collar desk job for a heavy lifting blue collar, bruise infested, shin crushing, toe flattening job. And I love it! Tomorrow our troup drives to the scenic Eastern Oregon country. Likely there will be no high-speed Wi-Fi. No cable. No hot running water. In fact, I think they still ride horses into town to purchase supplies to fix their wagon wheels. But I'll try to save up the stories & tell them one at a time when I get back. That is, if I can avoid getting mauled by the wild grizzly bears.

Those La Boheme Nights

Puccini has a way of getting under your skin, and invading your dreams. For the past few nights I have bolted wide awake with Act I of La Boheme going through my head. When singing Puccini one must count and listen like mad in order to hear a que and sing at the exact moment. This is not symmetrical form music like my beloved Mozart composed. Alas, Puccini liked to write rather unsymmetrical ensemble dialogue and arias in which he fancied lietmotifs and mood enticing scoring. in Act I of La Boheme Puccini introduces the four main guy characters, Marcello, Rudolpho, Colline, and Shaunard, all who are poor starving artists of some variety. The complain of the bitter cold and starvation until Shaunard enters with some money & food earned from a British Lord. The sound que's are tight and sometimes sycopated, or off-beat. Repitition, I find, is the best rehearsal regime. And thus, with so much repitition the subconscious just loves to take the opportunity during REM sleep to repeat those queues just one (or ten) more times. Yes, for the past week I have suffered an acute case of PPSD (Puccini Production Stress Disorder) and insomnia is my enemy. Almost to the minute I will wake up at 3:30 am with the lines of Puccini rolling past the scrollboard of my mind. When will it end? Hopefully soon 'cause we gotta get to learning how to deliver improvised opera next!

Benefits of learning new roles

Day 2 - Thursday Rehearse rehearse rehearse. 7 hours of staging and reviewing. Gotta get this little opera on it's feet ASAP! I have performed Boheme before as Schaunard in Italian. I have filled in last-minute for this project to perform Colline and Alcindoro in ENGLISH. It's certainly a different learning curve memorizing an opera in English that once was completely learned in Italian. Performing Colline is a bonus to me, I feel, because as a Bass-Baritone I get to utilize the nice low notes, and have yet another role under my belt for this popular show. Later we shall be performing a concert version of our La Boheme in Italian with orchestra, so having another role memorized in Italian is bonus.

New Year, New Life, New Project

Day 1 - Wednesday Here we are and here we go! Today I begin a new adventure as a member of Portland Opera To Go (or, affectionately labeled "POGO"). Met and gret the 5 other cast members of POGO's Boheme and proceeded to get down to business. We have a talented cast with varying experiences. The soaring music of Puccini resounded in the rehearsal studio. Ah, Puccini. A performing artist who is fortunate to listen to Puccini all day for a living is truly blest indeed. After a few hours of music rehearsal we spent a good 5 hours staging acts I and II on our portable and compact set. As a seasoned performing artist I can tell you that staging that many hours at once is exhausting. I went home and after a quiet meal I fell asleep by 8pm. An early night for me.

When It Rains It Pours

It seems a plethora of bad news has been trickling in regarding bad news of famous and well regarded opera singers such as Regine Crispin and Beverly Sills. Today I learned of another, Tenor Jerry Hadley, now on life support after an attempted suicide yesterday at age 55. Tenor jokes withstanding, Jerry was one of the few tenors I enjoyed listening to, with many of his CD's on my shelf. My favorite is the Famous Opera Duets sung with baritone, Thomas Hampson. "Au Fond du Temple Saint" from The Pearl Fishers strikes a deep chord within my operatic soul. It is simply beautiful music by Bizet and admirably performed by Hadley & Hampson with graceful phrasing and superb blend. Another CD, The Age of Bel Canto with the English Chamber Orchestra conducted by Richard Bonynge, shows Hadley's lyric tenor roots with favorite Romantic era composers Donizetti, Rossini, Delibes, and more. A demanding, yet grand and gorgeous collection of tenor arias. Get well, Jerry. You have many years of singing left.

Little Monkey

"I’ve seen the future. And we are all servants to damned dirty apes! " Despite my geeky adoration for 60’s sci fi movies, this video reminded me of Chef Creonte in “The Love For Three Oranges”. When the Prince and his comic and clownish traveling partner Truffaldino escape the chef’s kitchen he drops ladle despondently and says in his bassly voice: “Little Monkey” So, in honor of Sergey Prokofiev and his little Orange masterpiece, enjoy the thwapping monkey video.

Opera - The Backstage Story

The fun times never end backstage during tech week. And humor must be in high demand to aid our poor, weary souls and bodies through the trials (literally) of tech staging rehearsals. I bring you now, some of the quote gathered in one evening, overheard in the men’s wardrobe room: “Those ARE my feet that stink. COOL!” ~ after removing his soiled ADIDAS “Hey! That’s not my sword!” ~ by the prop table “Why is yours bigger than mine?” “Because I have a large mellon.” ~ comparing tricorne hats “He’s got a big instrument.” ~ complimenting the Speaker’s voice “Actually, truth be told, I have THREE balls. But just one is in the sack.” ~ Chorister bragging of his bowling prowess. Chorister #1: “It's amazing how six inches can make such a difference.” Chorister #2: "Yes, in all espects of life." ~ During a staging adjustment of 'six inches to the left'.

Balls to the Wall

I’ve been asked by a fellow blogger to write and describe what it is like to sing Wagner. Well, the short version is that it feels like what a camel must experience when it hurls it’s larynx out of its throat. This is true. Camels will on occasion upchuck it’s vocal mechanism and let it dangle outside it’s mouth at a human it feels is a threat, or at attractive double humpback female camels as a mating ritual. Evil baritones have been known to do this when singing Wagner. The Flying Dutchman is one of Wagner’s early operas and consists of many signature Wagner motive’s which are prominent later on in his bigger grand operas, but also has much sense of the Romantic style that Wagner appreciated, especially from Bel Canto composers such as Bellini. Richard Wagner, however, has taken liberties with his compositions. He enlists broad strokes of melody with hellacious ranges, and gigantic leaps in dynamics for singers of opera. To sing Wagner is a stretch vocally, musically, and physically challenging for one’s stamina. I was so physically exhausted after singing the men vs. ghost chorus in Act III that I literally collapsed in the Green Room each night after performing the scene. With wads of tissues in hand I dampened my sweaty brow and gulped water like it was sweet as milk & honey. It certainly did not help that the director’s staging had us stomping, hitting, and otherwise creating mass hysteria onstage while singing, “Steuerman las die vacht!” That chorus and style of singing can only be described by the term known to all singers as, "Balls to the Wall!" And after each curtain call when the throng of 3,000 fanatics were finished applauding, whooping and whistling, I lingered on stage after the curtain’s final drop so that I could search for my vocal mechanism which was left somewhere downstage right. Wagner? Oy! I love his music, but I think I’ll stick to singing Mozart & Puccini.

Is There An Octogenarian In The House?

As read on my fortune cookie consumed before Flying Dutchman's final performance: Seek advice from an octogenarian. What? What's an octogenarian? And why must I seek advice from one? Am I sick? Do I have only 6 months to live? Never in my childhood life until the present have I encountered such a fortune. Even when I was 11 and snuck an entire week's worth of fortune cookies from the local Chinese joint, opened every one, (ate half of them) and sorted through every slip of paper looking for the one telling me that Angel, my beautiful 6th grade classmate, was meant to be my guiding light, or at least my first kiss, there was Ne'er a fragment of fortune telling me to 'seek advice' from anyone. I mean, singers are neurotic enough! Ya can't just let me snarf down a bucket of pork fried rice and tell me to seek advice from some octo-something-or-other and then "break a leg!" What if I did break a leg? Then I'd have to seek advice from someone for sure. I was about to enter an auditorium full of 3,000 people ready to watch German opera make it's triumphant return to the Portland stage. I was half tempted to ask... "Is there an octogenarian in the house?" Or at least ask if one would stand by just in case. But years of training and professionalism paid off. I made it through the show without breaking a leg. But I needed to find out what this octogenarian is and quick! I needed answers! So I did what any normal curious and concerned fortune recipient would do. Get the answer from Answers.com! oc·to·ge·nar·i·an (ŏk'tə-jə-nâr'ē-ən) adj. Being between 80 and 90 years of age. n. A person between 80 and 90 years of age. Huh? Can't seek advice from Grandma (may her soul rest in peace). Granpa is now 91. Who the heck could I turn to for this much needed advice? The answer came in the most subtle yet obvious place. Palm Sunday Mass. The next morning while I performed my cantor duties I was approached by a parishoner. She was elderly, I'd say in her 80's. She told me she enjoyed the opera the previous night. But she had some advice. Oh, here it is! The fortune cookie was right! I waited in great anticipation for the advice I had sought for so long. Well, at least sought for the last 12 hours. She leaned in, motioned for me to bring my ear closer. Obviously this was important advice that mustn't be overheard by just anyone. Then she said to me: "I enjoyed the opera last night, and my husband goes every time whether he needs the sleep or not. But I think the opera would be more popular if it were more like football, with cheerleaders and a halftime show during intermission." Amen, sister! I'll soon be holding auditions for the opera halftime cheer squad.

Opera: The New Spectator Sport

The lights dim. It’s nearly pitch dark inside a giant, cavernous space filled with thousands of people waiting in great anticipation. Loud rhythmical music pulsates throughout the space and renders the crowd with palpitory excitement. Women begin to swoon. Men tense and sweat with wide eyed alacrity. All eyes are focused on one point in the giant hall, and when the moment arrives where their heroes are revealed and illuminated the expansive room erupts with an amplitude of cheers and applause. Sound like the NBA basketball playoff introductions? Nope. A rock concert? Uh-uh. This, my loyal evil readers, is the experience of the local opera scene in Portland. On a weeknight evening the Portland Opera production of The Flying Dutchman witness an unheralded and unprecedented audience reception. From the moment the curtain opened, revealing the entire cast in rock concert lighting on a raked and off-balanced stage we felt like we were doing an NBA playoff game in front of the 3,000 pairs of eyes before us. Spontaneous shouts, applause, and even a fist in the air “Woo Woo Woo” ala Arsenio Hall greeted us as the overture completed and we started singing. What went through the minds of the conservative, penguin suited, rhinestone wearing typical opera goer? I wonder… “Lovey, did that man just say, ‘woo woo woo’?” “Yes, Thurston. It’s the new rage with all the modern opera audiences.” (thrusts fist in the air) “Woo! Woo! Woo!” I believe we’re on to something here. What if we made opera the new spectator sport, complete with commentary from the booth. Let’s go there now: “Well, Phil, it looks like the crowd is prepared for some hot entertainment tonight!” “Sure does, Bill. Look at ‘em go wild with the new modern lighting! They’re even starting a spontaneous wave in the orchestra section. Let’s go now down to Jill who’s with the head stage director:” “Thanks Phil. I’m here with Guillermo Nobilo who is watching from off stage left tonight. Tell us, Guillermo, what should we expect tonight?” “Vell, Jeell, I’m pleeeased viz ze whole outcome. All ze zingers gave 110% een practeece. Zey are READY!” “That’s the word from backstage. Back to you Phil.” “Thanks, Jill. Bill, the tenor has been spending extra hours in the practice room this week trying to polish and caress that high ‘C’. It should be an exiting night if he can hold it this evening.” “That’s right Phil. We’re coming up to the end of his aria now. Let’s see if he can nail it.” “Ooooo!! Bill, that was just a hair under pitch and he hooked that one big time.” “Yes he did, Phil. You can tell he’s a little fatigued this evening and he didn’t quite reach the top.” "Looks like it'll be more time in the practice room for the next few days, Bill." Hey, it happens for golf! Why not opera?

Enjoy the Opera! Personal Lubricant Provided.

I’ll come right out and say it. Let the jokes, laughter, chuckles, guffaws, hee hawing, whatever begin. The head wigmistress of the opera has decreed that K-Y Personal Lubricant is the official hair gel of our production of Flying Dutchman. Hair gel. Hair. Gel. No wigs will be worn for the production. However the gentlemen, ALL gentlemen, will be given a dollop of K-Y jelly, and the hair will be combed in the style of the period of the opera, set in the 1920’s. Why K-Y? Here’s my own marketing reasons: “It Provides Maximum Stiffness and Hold” “It’s Viscous and Slick” “Provides Power Hold & Shine” “It’s Smooth, Silky and Glistens like Fresh Snow” “Too dry? Just add more water!” I am told the official reason is that adds a nice glistening effect. And since it’s water based the washing process is easier. It also doesn’t flake like regular hair gel. I’m told the story by the poor sucker, who wanted to remain nameless so we’ll call her Betty, (there, Bev, I saved your anonymity!) who drew the short straw and had to make the purchase of about a case worth of personal lubricant from the drug store. In addition, items such as medical sticky tape, hair pins, and makeup needed to be purchased. “Betty” does not look the type to purchase a stockpile of naughty or deviant goodies. So naturally the pharmacist gave her an odd blank stare and an, “excuse me?” when she inquired to the whereabouts of said items. “I asked where you stock the K-Y.” “The what, ma’am?” “The K-Y jelly.” I imagine the elderly, conservative pharmacists scratching his graying and almost bald, bare head. “I’m not sure I understand…” “I NEED 12 TUBES OF PERSONAL LUBRICANT!!” So Betty ended up exclaiming her secret mission to everyone in the store and followed behind Mr. Pharmacist to collect all the items on her list. She admitted later to us the fact that she shopped in a drug store on the other side of town from her house. The curious pharmacist was much relieved when Betty felt she had to explain the reason behind her seemingly deviant purchases. Good thing he didn’t talk her into purchasing K-Y Warming Liquid Gel which would have provided a nice gentle warming sensation on contact. Talk about hot sailors! Never a dull moment in opera.

STOMP! - the Opera

This Evil Baritone just flipped another calendar year, celebrating my 29th birthday for the 8th straight year. (You do the math) But EB is jumping, stomping, and creating general mayhem on the rehearsal stage like he’s a sprightly 24 yr old. “What does he think he’s doing!? Certainly no Earthly good will come of his false pretense of athletic ability! I shall smite him for his reckless behavior!” ~ EB’s knees The above is a direct quote from my knees and ankles overheard in our most recent rehearsal of Flying Dutchman. I am renaming this Wagnarian masterpiece, STOMP! ~ The Opera. Those of you who may be privy to that entertaining piece of theatre whereby a dozen or so 20-somethings show their athletic prowess by “stomping” rhythmical tunes using anything from tin garbage cans (and the garbage inside them) to brooms and sinks full of water, will understand. The avant-garde stage director for our Flying Dutchman has decided it would be keen if all 30 of the chorus sailor men, during the Steuerman Chorus vs. the Ghost Chorus scene, would all jump, stomp, hit, thrash, smash, and cause widespread chaos onstage for this little 5 minute interval. I (foolishly) volunteered to leap from atop tables, bounding over chairs, and stomp the set like I’m waking the devil. I’m sure you can imagine that this sort of chaotic scene does not get blocked once and forgotten until final dress. The first few scene rehearsals were great! I felt a healthy glow of perspiration and a sense that I was in much better shape than my fellow, uh, ahem, “more experienced” chorus men. Besides, I am a professional on stage. I give 110% in rehearsal and performance. By the end of the 6th time through the scene my perspiration had gushed into a flood of hot, salty sweat, drenching my rehearsal gear and making me wish I had volunteered to sing in the Ghost Chorus offstage. (Jo ho ho hoe!) Well, I managed to stumble through the end of rehearsal, and I’ve been on a steady diet of Ibuprofen and regular intervals of ice packs ever since. I encourage you if you’re in the Portland area to catch this production. The principals are fabulous, especially our Dutchman, Richard Paul Fink, a mighty fine dramatic baritone. This ain’t your grandmother’s “Park & Bark” opera…it’s intense!

I Feel Like an Evil Bog Dweller

For two years I’ve been stretching the chops on nice high baritone & tenor-ish repertoire like Sweeney Todd, the tenor solo in the Hoppe Requiem, musical reviews with Broadway favorites like Music of the Night and Bring Him Home. Now I have the distinct honor of re-joining the ranks of my Basso (Canadenis) Profundo friend, Campbell Vertesi, and have been assigned to sing low bass for the Portland Opera Norma chorus. BAD: when the full ensemble of Sops & Tenors scream fortissimo (the actual technical music term is balls-to-the-wall. Really! Look it up in Groves!) on High A’s, Mezzi belting somewhere in the top of the treble, and basses…you got it! We’re trying to force a mighty D root in the middle of Bass Clef. Do you think anyone is going to hear a handful of basses huff on a note placed in the middle of bass cleff with 35 other trained singers screaming 2 & 3 octave higher, AND a full 60 piece orchestra blaring from the pit? No way, Jose! GOOD: But, ohhh, it feels good to rumble on a low G for a page and a half of pianissimo chorus. That’s when having the low notes pays dividends. Ahhhh…it’s nice to be back home for a while. Tenors, eat your heart out. THE BEST: Who wouldn’t want to add ‘Bog Dweller’ to one’s opera resume already littered with, but limited to, Guard, Lowly Slave, Noble, Evil Assassin (I like that one), Soldier, Priest and Gypsy? Besides, the pajama and robe costumes are the most comfortable I’ve worn by far.

Just When I Thought I Was Out...

…they pull me back in! And so it goes. After spending a decade with the Portland Opera AGMA Chorus I somehow got out of the “family” two years ago. Don’t get me wrong, it’s the best paying gig in Portland. Union wages are hard to beat for singers. But it’s not a full time gig. It don’t pay all da bills, know what I mean? For two years I’ve been successfully keeping busy with other performing gigs on cruise vessels, musical theatre, and interactive dinner theatre. But last November I got the call… Sometimes, in way out towns like Portland, Ore-GONE, singers do not realize the responsibility and privilege it is to be in a performers union. This ain’t community theatre folks. Sure, the Met Chorus members may earn six figures a year, and we earn enough to make car & insurance payments (‘course, I understand six figures in NYC is just enough to keep you riding in a taxi) but we all work for the same union with the same rules. A professional opera company expects their performers to work hard in the allotted time, be ON time, memorize music, learn staging, etc. Well, a new bass they hired this season found that the responsibility of actually showing up to rehearsals was too great. He managed to miss enough rehearsal that he was promptly booted. Hmmm…who can we get to fill this AGMA spot for the rest of the season? Oh, I know! Let’s cal Evil Baritone. He may be evil, but he’s professional and dependable. So they called me. And I had an open schedule. So I’m back in the chorus for three more shows. But I had forgotten how entertaining music rehearsals can be. P.O. has a new young Chorus Master who emigrated from Great Britain. His accent is charming and he can insult you with a smile and you’d ask for seconds. I think England is more open with their sex talk, whereas here in puritanical America we prefer subtle innuendo. Well, the following is a list of comments made to a professional chorus in music rehearsals. Mind you, only an occasional snigger ensued after some comments, but for the most part we have kept our professionalism very well. These are MUSICAL notes, people. Interpret them how you will… Ah, coffee…fluid of life. We kinda want the audience to go to sleep here. Pucker the lips. Make it pure. Hold your mouth open and fill it. Put it in the back of your throat. You don’t want to move from the long to the short. You have to sit perfectly on the root. Please mind your labial proximate. Take a snatch breath. And my personal favorite: It’s not the length…it’s the strength.