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.

And the Dead Shall Rise

Were you see Les Mis last night? Were you there? Did you see it? It was stunning and beautiful, cast with talented actors and singers. And if you were there for Saturday's performance you heard what sounded like a set piece dropped after we all died on the barricade. But it wasn't a set piece. No, it was a body. My body. In an attempt to sneak blindly offstage from my dying position on the rotating platform, I stumbled upon a box and tripped head over heels, landing headfirst half on and half off the platform. As I felt the stage still moving against my face I realized I was not moving with it, and while I was prone upon the floor I also realized that the big barricade set piece was still moving -- right at my head. I was about to be headbutted right off the stage if I didn't do something quick. So I did what any reasonable and savvy actor would do on a pitch black stage awaiting certain head injury -- I think I said, "oh shit!" I don't remember how loud. Hopefully it was only heard by the stage crew watching helplessly offstage right. Using reflexes like a lynx, er, maybe they were more like a drunken sailor on a moving dock, I rolled off the platform avoiding my demise. I had a flash in my mind that when I rolled I would take about ten of my mates out like a bowling ball in the darkness. By some stroke of luck, or perhaps we were blest by the stage gods, I avoided a bowling lane syndrome and my fellow actors were spared. (oh, I just got the pun!) So today I proudly display my war wounds; a scratched and bruised shin, a swollen thigh the color of the deep dark sea, and a nice stiff neck. Should be an interesting matinee today. Hopefully I can even out the bruises on the left side of my body.

Broken Chairs & Broken Platforms

Hell week. Day three. Dress rehearsal on top of another tech practice. Complete bedlam backstage and in the dressing rooms. "Where's my corset?" "Do I wear this on our head?" "Five minutes to places, everybody. Five minutes." "Five minutes? I don't even have my underwear on yet!" "Do these pants make me look fat?" "No, but you sure got a bad case of camel toe happening there, dude!" As you can see, the real entertainment happens backstage, people. You pay for the magic onstage, but the best seats are backstage where all the drama really happens. Tonight our rotating platform slipped its chain. Imagine a bicycle with a 24 foot diameter gear shifter. Imagine a chain that is inches thick wrapped around the gear powered by an electronic motor with at least 1/10th horsepower. With such unbridled power under our feet we spin at a sprinting speed, sometimes clockwise, sometimes counter-clockwise. We never know. It's always a surprise. Well, maybe not as fast as a sprint, but at least a bear crawl speed. Anyway, during a clockwise spin the platform chain slipped. Total breakdown. This needed to happen. You see, since it happened during tech we can reasonably be assured that it won't happen opening night. But hey, you poor suckers who purchased opening night tics for this Friday may be in for a treat! Also, will someone please tell the greenhorn that YOU DON'T SIT ON THE BREAKAWAY CHAIR! Especially after it's been placed onstage for the next scene. I must admit, that was one of the funniest foul-ups I ever did witness onstage. Thanks, Brian, for the good laugh.

Don't Touch My Heine

Four hours of tech. Four more hours of orchestra sitzprobe. Add on another two hours spent at church rehearsing and cantoring. I'm one pooped singer! Usually we singers prefer to only rehearse or perform no more than three -- maybe four -- hours tops per day. We're such delicate creatures. And we must preserve the voce so that we are able to access only the prime vocal quality at all times for our ever-adoring public. Yeah. Though the previous statements are based in truth, they certainly are far from reality. The exertion and energy expended today is tough on a singer, but it is something we must endure. And though we do prefer to be able to access our "top voice", the only time we hit the prime vocal quality is usually a moment in the shower or automobile or some other totally inaccessible location where no one hears us. The other 99% of the time we are struggling to sing through some sort of vocal malfunction. Samples of said vocal malfunctions can be caused by any of the following: 1. Waking up. Any singer who tries to vocalize right after their alarm clock shatters their slumber will find that portraying a sick frog is more likely be the only role available. I prefer not to even hum a note before noon. Mostly I'd rather not sing at all until after 3 pm. Ok, let's say I'd just as well sing around midnight. That's when the voice is probably warmed up best. 2. Alcohol. Sure, we singers like to drink the beers after a rehearsal or performance. But we pay dearly the next day when the post-alcohol dehydrated vocal chords go on strike. But again, when are we ever at peak performance anyway? Let's drink up -- and don't touch my Heine! 3. Breathing. Yes, simply breathing can knock the voice onto the disabled list. Dry air, moist air, dust, pollens, errant gnats that get sucked down one's throat. All these are detrimental. As I said, our poor voices are delicate instruments. 4. Having relations. You've heard that "sex weakens the knees!" But we don't need our knees! However, after an enjoyable lusty romp in the sack I find that my vocal range drops about an octave. Great for if I need to sing something out of the Russian basso-profondo repertoire, but usually I'm hired to sing something on or above the bass clef. So there it is. I'm pooped and ready for a full day off tomorrow for rest and rejuvenation. In that case, pass me that Heine! Prost!

Here Upon These Tiles We Will Build Our Barricade

Les Miserable opens in nine days. Yesterday we were warned that rehearsal may be extended since we had yet to block some of the smaller, yet very important scenes. The warning was blatant, but when we were requested to provide our own pillows and sleeping bags we knew they meant business. So we all trudged to the theater before rush hour was officially over and began setting up the scenes. One important scene is the opening of Act 2 where Enjolras informs his loyal followers that "here upon these stones we will build our barricade!" Dutifully, his loyal subjects run offstage and are supposed to return with a stack of books, or a box, or a marble - anything to add to the barricade. But as we did not have our set props to work with we practiced building our barricade using the only sacrificial objects we had - ourselves! Yes, actors can be so creative at times. At the end of the short scene, however, we remove the boxes and marbles and take them away as if to say, "ya know, let's build it down the street a spell." Using our one day off on Monday, the set builders successfully raised the stage with the turntable. This uses the same technology as the actual Broadway & tour shows. So after we became weary of piling onto a human pyramid in the rehearsal room, we moved onto the stage to practice some ballroom dancing on the rotating platform. Now I have danced in shows before. I have even waltzed and jitterbugged. But never have I done any movement while the stage rotates. Imagine yourself in a beautiful Viennese ballroom twirling and waltzing around the room in a race with 20 other couples. Then imagine the floor spinning to add double the speed. It's a bit nauseating and I'm sure during at least one performance the audience will enjoy a barf-fest during the wedding scene. And true to their warning, the director and stage management kept us late, threatening to thwap us with clipboards should we try to escape. So now I write this on my laptop on stage, snuggled in my sleeping bag using Wi-Fi to post to the blogosphere in hopes of hailing help from some local source in Portland. "Help! We're just poor actors being held captive in the theater until we 'get it right'! We need food! Substinance! Please bring donuts!" Maybe we'll 'get it right' Wednesday and will be allowed to go home to our own beds and loved ones. Pray for us...

My Baby's A First Grader

Today my oldest child, my firstborn, my baby, the Goon, is officially graduated into 1st grade. How can this happen? It seems like only yesterday my baby was 4 and visiting Disneyland for the first time. And only the day before she was 2 and on an Alaskan cruise. A year of Kindergarten has passed like the wind blowing the snow on Mt. Hood as I speak. (WAIT! -- did he say snow? In June!?!) Yes, I said snow. Record cold temps in Portland and low snow levels have extended the skiing season in to the summer. WTF!?! I split from Montana 13 years ago to get away from cold, freezing temps and snow. Now I'm smack in the middle of winter in JUNE! So all you freaks in the northeast having a heatwave, just bite me! And you know who else can bite me? The geniuses proclaiming the "Global Warming" effect. Yup, that's right...bite me with those cold, chattering teeth! Ok, ok, you might be figuring that I'm a little grumpy right now due to the weather. That may be so, but my grumpiness is offset by the joy of rehearsing Les Miserable. After six days of rehearsal we're nearly finished blocking the show. We open in 17 days so you can bet we'll be getting bi'dness done here this week. Our Jean Valjean is a veteran of the Les Mis stage, having previously toured the show. He sounds awesome! I'll disclose more about him later. Maybe tomorrow I'll show y'all my new 19th Century French student revolutionary sideburns.

At The End Of The Day

Joe Theissen, Wade Willis, and some of my other fellow cast members prepare for rehearsing, At The End Of The Day for Les Mis. Very busy first few days, and all we've got to show for it is the first 10 minutes of the show ready to go. I think I gushed a little in yesterday's post about how excited I am to be a part of this show. I remember seeing Les Mis for the first time in '92. It was a tour production performing at the 5th Avenue Theatre in Seattle. I was on tour myself doing a children's theatre show and my tour partner had a college friend singing Cosette in the show. She graciously came & talked to our kids, giving them a thrill at talking to a "real actress!" We saw the show that evening and afterward she gave us a backstage tour. I was only 22 and in awe of the size of the stage and set pieces. She proudly displayed her wedding dress costume for the final scene, revealing that it cost in the neighborhood of $10,000. We were also invited to the opening night gala with the cast of Les Mis in a nice lakeside restaurant in Seattle. I met the young Jean Valjean who I remember told me he was 25 or something close to that age. He was a fabulous Valjean and sounded great. I couldn't believe he was so young! I also met the Eponine (ooh la la!) who I think had a crush on me after a few drinks, but I never got her number. (Gah! I hate being shy!) I also remember Chuck Wagner, who played Inspector Javert. He was outstanding and remembered I wanted to meet this great baritone. However, he wasn't at the party. I did finally meet him after a performance of Jekyll & Hyde in Portland about six years ago. Still one of my favorite Broadway actors. Ok, so enough gushing already! Let's get to work and do this thing! Tomorrow we get to work on being poor beggars -- well, it's not just a clever title!

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.

The Thespian Life

This is what a first stage rehearsal really looks like. We spend four weeks rehearsing music, dialogue, blocking, and hours of choreography in a crowded tool shop, then move suddenly into a real theatre with curtains and chairs and lights and everything. One can assume correctly that the spacing in a tool shop is quite a bit more cramped. So the first day on the stage set we all tend to stand around, look at the set, look at each other, look at where the audience will be (we want to be sure we can be seen at all times), then generally conclude that everything we did in a cramped toolshop has to be redone. So then we stand around looking at the director, who looks at the performers, who look back at the director, who yells, “quiet on the set!” because the set construction crew is still constructing the set as we stand on it, but the set construction crew ignores the director because the dudes really in charge are the set and lighting designers. So the director and performers mill around the stage in between the construction crew and the constant hammering, continually fearing for our lives as extremely heavy light trusses are dropped inches from our heads. We laugh, we joke, we comment that we wish the incessant hammering-sawing-drilling would cease, but to no avail. After a while we shrug our shoulders, agree that everything will work out, then go have a beer. I love the theatre!

The Sacrifices We Make...

...for our art. There are a number of items that fit this category: sacrifices for and to family, in finances, in creative ideas, in bohemian lifestyles…the list goes on. In a recent post I mentioned how I made a rather quick change in my appearance by losing 5-8 pounds in about a month. I sacrificed food. Not completely, but I ate a lot of rice cakes I’ll tell you, and frankly I don’t know how rice cakes can be labeled a food product in the first place! I made that sacrifice so that I would fit a costume picked for me in the musical review, COLE. About two weeks before our first rehearsal the small cast was called for a promotional photo shoot. There we were made to wear very nice formal outfits, the men in dazzling black & white tuxedos. My tuxedo was a dashing double breasted winged collar with tails and white tie & vest. However, I felt like a sausage stuffed in that outfit. But I sucked in the gut & stood tall for the modeling session. I knew by the reaction of Sharon, the director, that the spiffy outfits we were wearing would be the very ones chosen for the show. Uh oh! I had to do something…and fast! I had previous experience in trying to look fit for a show. Last summer I slimmed down to wear a slinky, transparent Carmen Miranda dress with halter top. I looked like a tropical fruit-ka-bob Yes, you can bet my vanity forced me be the best looking Carmen Miranda I could be so I reached an ideal weight suitable for a 6 foot man in drag. How did I manage to lose the poundage required to fit the tux so that I looked marvelous on stage? The easy answer is I stopped eating and drank gallons of water. But really I ate smaller portions of healthier food, like 6 inch Subway tuna sandwiches, rice cakes, Wheat Thin crackers, anything that would put something in my belly and keep me from being hungry. And I drank a lot of water. No soda. Coffee is a must for me but I limited it to only one cup each morning. But water is an amazing element to rinse the inside of your body. Just be prepared to jump to the restroom every, oh, 15 minutes or so. So what sacrifices do YOU make for your art? Do you keep a strict diet? Exercise regiment? Botox injections? Leave me a comment and let me know. (Comments can be anonymous for those Botox patients not willing to sacrifice their identity!)

Applause and the Blahs

How do you get motivated to do a performance on a day you wish not to be there? Happened to me on Wednesday. At 8:00 sharp the curtain rose for COLE, I looked at the audience, 600 pairs of eyes stared back at me, and I just could not find the motivation I needed to give them an uplifting performance. I was tired. I had low energy. My voice was being a pest and would not warm up. Not to mention the pesky distracting blister on my heel. So I switched to autopilot and after curtain call I felt I gave a robotic performance. Mid-weekday performance tend to be a little low energy anyway, and there are tricks for getting prepared and getting through an unmotivated performance. Was I so robotic that the audience did not enjoy? Not at all. I sang well, but realized my vocal limitations and know I can do better. I felt like lying down & taking a nap, but I danced my little dances with the obligatory wide smile. So how does one pull off a professional performance when none of the right elements are in one’s favor? Here are some tricks from the Evil Baritone bag: 1. Drink water. Constantly! Water is life. You must stay hydrated. Start drinking water at least 2-3 hours before the performance. Water is great for keeping the vocal folds from becoming inflamed and irritated. And the subtext of this statement is: a.) Avoid alcohol & caffeine. These dehydrate the body, working against your optimal performance mode. I failed to do both before the performance. I didn’t drink enough water & consumed coffee, soda and partook of the free beer provided at the summer company picnic. My performance suffered. Oh, and since you drank so much water, make sure there is a toilet close offstage – or just pick a pack of Depend underwear and simply get onstage and “just go”. 2. Stretch A few minutes of quiet meditation and stretching the poor, tired achy muscles will help prepare the body for it’s journey the next few hours. Of course this does nothing to help the aging and creaky joints of a weary thirty-something. I can usually be heard in the back of the stage bending my body and complaining that “I’m too old for this shit…” 3. Be prepared That means know your stuff! Inside & out! Your songs, arias, dialogue, character, whatever, need to be ingrained and rehearsed so that they flow freely from your mouth. Being completely able to immerse yourself into a natural performance is better than the stress of thinking, “oh, shit, what’s the next word/phrase/dance step?” When switching to autopilot this is essential. 4. Focus Number 3 above is no good without focus. Sometimes in situations when you are unmotivated on stage you need to focus even MORE! Focus on your next entrance. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Focus on keeping distractions at bay! Sometimes, as I did for a moment last night, I see an audience member wearing odd apparel such as a scarf, earmuffs and goggles. Distracting? You bet! But realize quickly that if you don’t drop it right away you are likely to make an embarassing slip in the lyrics to “Let’s Misbehave.” 5. Smile! Look at my face….I’m dancing! That’s a non-dancer’s mantra. I’m not a trained dancer. Never had a tap/jazz/ballet class in my life. But I move well and I have rhythm. But to keep an audience from realizing my lack of grace and an occasional moved caused by two left feet, a toothy smile is the best thing to let them know I’m having a great time, even if I’m unmotivated. If you’re having fun, the audience has fun. If you’re not having fun, let your professionalism take over and smile anyway. 6. The show MUST go on! Your fellow cast, tech crew, directors, designers, not to mention a paying audience all are depending on you to do your part. It’s a tremendous responsibility. Don’t blow it! Or you may end up never working for that company, or in that town, again. How’s THAT for motivation? Ok, be my guest to leave your tips & tricks for getting through an unmotivated performance. I’m too unmotivated to leave you with anything witty so I’m gonna have a beer & pass out on the recliner.

Don't Sing, this is a MUSICAL!

A quote and words of wisdom from our director, Sharon Maroney, while discussing a few final stylistic notes before opening night last Friday. After three weeks of intense music, staging and dance rehearsal Sharon imparted upon us before going onstage the importance of “showmanship” over musical quality when performing musical comedy numbers. Sharon is a brassy, loud and fabulous character performer and belter with years of New York stage experience. Mix in her deep Wisconsin dialect and scatterbrain train of thought, and she makes for one very amusing, confusing and diffusing director. But me? I’m too legit to quit. Ah, the fate of the classically trained singer. In fact, I think one Sharon’s quotes to me during a rehearsal of this charming Cole Porter musical review was, “you’re so goddamn TRAINED!” Thanks, Sharon. I’ll take that as a compliment! Besides, it was my “training” that had the audacity to interpret all those little black & white notes, rests & time signatures on the musical staves as music. Cole Porter wrote MUSIC along with the words, right. Cole tells a great story, and his clever word play and play on words make great songs. But my training instinctively informed me that Monsieur Porter added the music for a reason. So if I end up singing my way through this musical review, I’ll just say, My Training made me do it!!!

Cole Porter...and the Deathly Hallows

Tonight is opening night for the Cole Porter musical review. And the final book in the Harry Potter series is open to the public beginning at 12:01 am tonight! Decisions, decisions. Do I fulfill my contractual obligations and attend the opening night performance to 600 muggles, or skip out to get in on the Harry Potter Midnight Madness book release party at the local Barnes & Noble? I gotta get this book and find out HOW DOES IT END!? I don’t want any spoilers ruining my book reading experience. I won’t have it! My greatest fear is that after the release tonight there will be so much hype, talk and discussion that everyone will know the ending whether they read the book or not tomorrow morning. And if you haven't heard, J.K. Rowling herself has asked the entire world to "ignore the misinformation", and "help preserve the secrecy" of the final outcome. But alas, I cannot shed my stage obligation. 600 sold out ticketholders depend on my stage presence. I shall be a trooper and yes, the show MUST go on! But in order to shield me from this nemesis of my Harry Potter revelation fear, I shall be diving underground, shutting out the world until I get my hands on a copy of The Deathly Hallows. That means no more internet. No evening news. No newspapers. And no more bubble gum wrappers. Any of these are prime media candidates for Harry Potter spoilers. And may Dumbledore have mercy on your blackened heart if you even THINK of posting the HP resolution on my comments! Mischief managed!

Who The Heck is Father Knickerbocker

And does he have anything to do with the stylish yet comfortable baggy knee trousers I’m wearing? The answer is…yes! Read on… In a little Cole Porter number I’ve been rehearsing for Broadway Rose (opening Friday for a limited engagement – seats are selling fast!) I sing the lyrics: “Due to landscape gardeners gifted, Father Knickerbocker’s face is being lifted.” The line is from Porter’s song, “Please Don’t Monkey With Broadway” written in 1940. Being the intellectual performer, and ingrained with that classical signer trick where I must know and understand every word and phrase I sing, I did some research. First I asked all five other cast members, director, choreographer, stage manager, costumer and two random schmucks passing by the theater on Durham Road, and got the following possible answers: A famous restaurant in N.Y. Inventor of Knickers http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knickers Owner of the NY Knicks #10 Walt Frasier of the Knicks A Manhattan hotel A statue in Central Park A grilled sandwich with ham and Gouda cheese on Dutch bread served with a Heineken. No. No. Nope. Wrong. Wrong again. Incorrect. Sounds delicious, but not the correct answer. BZZZZZZ!!!! Thank you all for playing. We have some lovely parting gifts. If you think that’s one of those had-to-be-there lines, you are probably right. Back in the 1809 Washington Irving, famous for this penning of Legend of Sleepy Hollow, wrote a fictional history of Manhattan describing the Dutch inhabitants of New Amsterdam. Irving wrote A History of New York as a fictional autobiography with the pseudonym of Diedrich Knickerbocker, a socialite and ‘descendent’ of the Dutch settlers. For years New York residents believed Irving’s historical Dutch tale as truth and began affectionately calling him “Father Knickerbocker”. They also began calling the short men’s trousers remnant of the Dutch style as Knickerbockers. 19th Century New Yorkers began referring to their city using the historical allegory of “Father Knickerbocker”. The name stuck for many years, even through the age of Cole Porter who used the term as simply an allusion to the city of New York much the same as it is today called the “Big Apple”. Now that you’ve had your history lesson for the day, please pass that hot ham & cheese sandwich, and don’t touch my Heine!

A Five-Six-Seven-Eight....

Let’s compare and contrast breathing and support, shall we? I’ve sung opera and I’ve performed musical theater. Let me tell you something, opera singers have an enormous advantage when it comes to breath support. Not to say opera singers have it easier. Opera singers must research and learn a role, same as musical theater, sure. But the opera role it typically sung in a FOREIGN LANGUAGE, with a much heftier and vocally taxing score, over a 60 piece orchestra and in front of a 40+ member chorus into a house of 3,000 seats with no amplification. Am I saying opera singers have it easy? Absolutely not. But let’s take a typical staging for any opera. Stand here. Sing. Ok, move over there. Stand. Sing. Wander back over there. Stand. Sing. Oh, you’re a lyric coloratura? Ok, lie down there on the stage and sing all your high notes. You’re a tenor? Ok, plant your feet, grow roots to the stage and emote with your hands palms up with elbows bent at a 45 degree angle. Typical tenor staging since their mind doesn't wander much past a concentration level of, "look everybody! I'm singing a high B-flat!!!" This kind of opera staging fundamentally allows a singer to consciously align and support the vocal production, even from a prone position. A singer can make minor adjustments as necessary to enhance resonance, concentrate on phrasing, and literally bust a gut if necessary. Recently I’ve observed a definite contrast in support techniques while rehearsing for COLE. This musical review is jam packed with Cole Porter’s famous, funny and cleverest songs. Each number is choreographed by local former Broadway dance captain, Amy Palomino, who tests the coordinational limits of all six cast members through elaborate footwork and Fosse-hands, all while singing in tune and in harmony. What goes through a singer’s mind while singing and dancing an ensemble number of “Anything Goes”? It ain’t breath support, and clear vocal production. In my mind, at least, it goes something like this…. (A five six seven eight) “In olden days…"(step left turn) (hands in the air, now do the Charleston) (Step kick, step-ball-change, now we’re trucking) "…looked on as something shocking" (DON’T FORGET TO SMILE!) (box step left and don’t poke your neighbor do a little time step) “Anything Goes!” Whew! Ever see A Chorus Line? Compare what I just wrote to a few lines of the first song of that soundtrack: Step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch...Got it? Going on, turn, turn, touch down, Back step, pivot step, walk, walk, walk! Sound familiar? After wiggling through a full number with my pearly whites gleaming and ending full blast on a high “E” I’m proud to say my operatic vocal training and a worthless music degree comes in handy for something. Next stop…Broadway?

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?