Last evening I had the pleasure of introducing my daughter to Poulenc's Dialogues des Carmelites. We enjoyed it Bayreuth-style: we ate dinner after Act I. This was my 3rd time watching Marthe Keller's Opera du Rhin production, and I enjoyed just as much (although I had a few quibbles this time around). It was a delight to experience this most riveting of operas and pass my enthusiasm on -- and see it catch fire.
The production is dark and spare, which works to the opera's advantage, even when obvious visual props are missing. The female principals are all strong. Blanche (Anne-Sophie Schmidt) has the almost ungrateful task of holding the whole thing together, with neurasthenic terror and a face that resolves from singing to an awkward smile. Her voice lacks luxurious beauty but she sails through the challenges of text and tessitura. Patricia Petitbon is a stunning Constance, revealed as a redhead when the wimples come off in Act III. Her sweet voice and serene presence illuminate the darkness around her. The Old Prioress, Nadine Denize, performs her role with great power and clarity, although she is hobbled -- or rather, unhobbled -- by directorial choices that make her illness less debilitating than I think it ought to be. Her first scene gives the impression that she suffers from arthritis, no more. And surely if Mere Marie bids Blanche approach the Reverend Mother's bed the Reverend Mother ought still to be in that bed! On the other hand, there is a fine pay-off for Madame de Croissy's dying crawl, the image of her corpse supported by Blanche in identical poses as one's death passes to the other. Marie is played by Hedwig Fassbender, with just the right balance of pride and tenderness -- and one hint of lesbian feeling, a look she gives to Blanche in the ragout scene. Valerie Millot sings the New Prioress's music with ease and beauty, and makes her sharp yet kind.
The final scene lacks a guillotine, or even the shadow of one. Yet it works shockingly well. The nuns (having made crosses on their chests with coal from their prison cell, an excellent touch) line up and step forward, one by one. We see them each meet death: as the guillotine sound thuds they freeze and fall. It is possibly more intense and disturbing than the traditional walk into the wings because we can see their faces and experience their deaths as individual events. Here it is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P85S_70oSOk.
It was interesting to discuss the opera with my daughter, who commented that it was more a play with music. She just finished a unit on the French Revolution in her global history class and found that this brought the reality, make that the feeling of reality home. She lacks the background in Christian ritual with which I grew up, and needed a lot of explanations as we went through the story. Poulenc certainly managed to mix the sacred and profane in the best Massenet manner, far exceeding old Jules in fact! There is a chord in the Old Prioress's death scene which vividly conjures Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, to unfortunate effect. But the sensual harmonies balance with the chaste rhythms and create a musical language that is so completely and recognizably Poulenc's. Everything he wrote sounds like preparation for or outtakes from this opera.
I have acted in two productions of Dialogues, as the Chaplain at Des Moines in 1984 and as the brother in the Opera Manhattan production at St Peter's Citicorp in 1993. The brother has one terrific duet scene with his sister, and the Chaplain has some rewarding participation in what is really a female-driven story. It was amusing to recall in-jokes from Des Moines: rehearsals that ended with a call of "who's heartless enough to go to Pizza Hut now?"; and Mere Marie's "loudest address in the world" -- Madamoiselle Rose Ducor, Deux Rue Saint DeNIIIIIIIIIIIS.
How odd to have a list of favorite operas that embraces Carmelites and Gioconda! Now it is time to start with the Ring....
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Zerfliesst's wie eitel Schaum
I fell asleep at 9pm last night, utterly wiped out. I had sung Dichterliebe at 5... well to be honest I enacted Dichterliebe at 5:15, and that was the second time in two hours.
I had been asked to sing as part of Summit Music Festival. They don't usually have vocal music, and I was the only vocal event on their schedule. One of their board members is an adjunct piano teacher at the college where I used to teach. We had been discussing doing a project together and she offered me this. It was to be a lecture/recital, with the lecture supplied by a professor from the college (which is also the setting for the festival -- this made for an awkward addition to the stress level of the event). So we rehearsed and readied ourselves. The professor bowed out, so I added the lecture to my duties. As I worked on the song cycle, which I had last sung 25 years ago in Satellite Beach, FL, I realized how theatrical it feels and I became less and less able to see myself standing still in the crook of the piano while singing it. So I developed a modest staging, which involved a notebook, a pen, some movement, and no shoes.
Last week was the Western Wind singing workshop at Smith College. I was not able to divide my mind and so the Schumann songs went to the back burner. They took the prime spot in my consciousness on Sunday: I typed my own translations for the program in the morning, listened to Olaf Baer bark the cycle on my car's CD player, practised my lecture, and sang a run-through at 10pm, the only time we could get into the theater.
Yesterday I awoke with a sore throat, and the feeling of a developing chest cold. I patiently worked my voice and used warm fluids and a hot shower until I had enough range and balance to survive. It wasn't going to feel like I was at my most comfortable, but I was pretty sure I'd get through. I taught a lesson at 12:30, always my favorite way to warm myself up. I got to the campus at 4 and we ran through the whole cycle once in a studio. The we walked over the student center, where the theater is, and set up for the show. There was a good-sized audience, including an number of people whom I had invited and some of my former students from the college. The lecture went OK (I speak with only the skimpiest notes and keep my focus on the audience) but drained a good portion of my voice. I went offstage, drank some water, removed my shoes, and entered the world of Heine's angry and sorrowful poet. My staging was simple enough to work efficiently -- and I was careful to keep things to a minimum during the postludes. The beauty of technique is that my voice did what it was supposed to even though I didn't feel up to par. Opening myself emotionally to the songs is dangerous, particularly when a surge of rage tempts me to shout. The half hour flew by as I sang and suddenly it was over. Three curtain calls and two bouquets: a mighty fine reception. My brains were fried and it was all that I could do to keep enough focus to talk with people afterwards.
I took my surplus of emotional energy out to dinner with a group of friends and family. We went to Mary Anne's (Mexican) in Port Chester, where I ate myself into a stupor (Pollo con limone, Kahlua flan). No wonder I fell asleep at 9!
I had been asked to sing as part of Summit Music Festival. They don't usually have vocal music, and I was the only vocal event on their schedule. One of their board members is an adjunct piano teacher at the college where I used to teach. We had been discussing doing a project together and she offered me this. It was to be a lecture/recital, with the lecture supplied by a professor from the college (which is also the setting for the festival -- this made for an awkward addition to the stress level of the event). So we rehearsed and readied ourselves. The professor bowed out, so I added the lecture to my duties. As I worked on the song cycle, which I had last sung 25 years ago in Satellite Beach, FL, I realized how theatrical it feels and I became less and less able to see myself standing still in the crook of the piano while singing it. So I developed a modest staging, which involved a notebook, a pen, some movement, and no shoes.
Last week was the Western Wind singing workshop at Smith College. I was not able to divide my mind and so the Schumann songs went to the back burner. They took the prime spot in my consciousness on Sunday: I typed my own translations for the program in the morning, listened to Olaf Baer bark the cycle on my car's CD player, practised my lecture, and sang a run-through at 10pm, the only time we could get into the theater.
Yesterday I awoke with a sore throat, and the feeling of a developing chest cold. I patiently worked my voice and used warm fluids and a hot shower until I had enough range and balance to survive. It wasn't going to feel like I was at my most comfortable, but I was pretty sure I'd get through. I taught a lesson at 12:30, always my favorite way to warm myself up. I got to the campus at 4 and we ran through the whole cycle once in a studio. The we walked over the student center, where the theater is, and set up for the show. There was a good-sized audience, including an number of people whom I had invited and some of my former students from the college. The lecture went OK (I speak with only the skimpiest notes and keep my focus on the audience) but drained a good portion of my voice. I went offstage, drank some water, removed my shoes, and entered the world of Heine's angry and sorrowful poet. My staging was simple enough to work efficiently -- and I was careful to keep things to a minimum during the postludes. The beauty of technique is that my voice did what it was supposed to even though I didn't feel up to par. Opening myself emotionally to the songs is dangerous, particularly when a surge of rage tempts me to shout. The half hour flew by as I sang and suddenly it was over. Three curtain calls and two bouquets: a mighty fine reception. My brains were fried and it was all that I could do to keep enough focus to talk with people afterwards.
I took my surplus of emotional energy out to dinner with a group of friends and family. We went to Mary Anne's (Mexican) in Port Chester, where I ate myself into a stupor (Pollo con limone, Kahlua flan). No wonder I fell asleep at 9!
Friday, July 24, 2009
One Short Day in the Emerald City
One day between the Nantucket tour and the Northampton workshop! And so much to crowd into it....
Laundry first. Then two students. And then a trip into NYC for three events: a rehearsal, a lesson, and my shrink. The rehearsal was way uptown, on West 176th Street. My accompanist for Dichterliebe had asked me to attend a session with someone who would be coaching her. The apartment had a stunning view across the Hudson, and three awesome cats. I sat crossed-legged on the floor and declaimed Heine/Schumann to a deep grey tom, while our charming Armenian (I think) hostess made notes and faces. We gave a pretty good runthrough, and then got a lot of really excellent suggestions.
I drove downtown and parked for a second time. I had time for a salad at Hot'n'Crusty before my voice lesson. Then I subwayed further into NYC, to the Flatiron district, and browsed at Acadmy Used CDs until it was time to be shrunk. It rained on and off during the afternoon and gathered some force as I worked my way north. Traffic was unusually heavy for post-rush-hour on a Summer night.
Laundry first. Then two students. And then a trip into NYC for three events: a rehearsal, a lesson, and my shrink. The rehearsal was way uptown, on West 176th Street. My accompanist for Dichterliebe had asked me to attend a session with someone who would be coaching her. The apartment had a stunning view across the Hudson, and three awesome cats. I sat crossed-legged on the floor and declaimed Heine/Schumann to a deep grey tom, while our charming Armenian (I think) hostess made notes and faces. We gave a pretty good runthrough, and then got a lot of really excellent suggestions.
I drove downtown and parked for a second time. I had time for a salad at Hot'n'Crusty before my voice lesson. Then I subwayed further into NYC, to the Flatiron district, and browsed at Acadmy Used CDs until it was time to be shrunk. It rained on and off during the afternoon and gathered some force as I worked my way north. Traffic was unusually heavy for post-rush-hour on a Summer night.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Nantucket Diary
Western Wind's Nantucket Tour 2009
Saturday, July 18
EZL and TF arrived at my house at 8am for our departure -- they left EZL's car in my driveway and we took my Subaru. Lovely day, and shockingly little traffic. We stopped for gas on the Merritt and got mixed up with a parade of expensive cars on their way to an auto show. There was a stunning yellow Jag and a shiny Rolls. TF wanted to leave with them, but they were blocking all the gas pumps, except for one that was broken, and we took off to find a different place to refuel. We got onto 95 and stopped in Milford. But we didn't start, because the car wouldn't turn over. A few coughs and then nothing. We pushed it to the side and called AAA. They came and jumped us, and told me my battery needed replacing. So we decided to drive to Hyannis and leave the car someplace for repairs while we went to Nantucket. We stopped at a Getty station and asked if they could handle the car -- their diagnosis was far more expensive than a battery; they said my alternator needed replacing. I was not in a position to comparison shop, with a ferry ticket and gigs to make. So I swallowed and left the car (actually, we drove to the ferry and unloaded our luggage, and the guys from Getty came and picked up the car), taking a business card for a receipt.
We ate at a clam shack by the ferry (http://www.baxterscapecod.com/), where they needed to install a mortgage broker to arrange financing for the lobster rolls. My income has not risen but their prices sure have. I ate the smelt platter, which was more of an adventure than I think I really wanted. The ferry ride was easy and we were soon being driven to our host homes. TF and I stayed in the same place we had stayed 5 years ago, a really neat place chock full of art and tchotchkes with a most hospitable host. We met at 7:15 at the Episcopal Church to rehearse for our Shakespeare in Music program. LC, TF and I walked down to the harbor to find food. And then I went to bed.
Sunday, July 19
Up ludicrously early and out for a walk. I ate breakfast at Black Eyed Susan's (http://www.black-eyedsusans.com/) -- the sausage was terrific. WiFi is hard to find on the island, and I spent a while wandering around looking for a hot spot. We met at the Unitarian Society and sang at the service, and then I managed to squeeze in a nap. We resumed work at 3, rehearsing and then giving the Shakespeare concert. Nice audience and a lot of fun singing Dowland, Weelkes et al. We were treated to dinner at the home of the cellist who had arranged this concert. Her 9 year old son played the piano for us, quite impressively.
Monday, July 20
I managed to sleep in, all the way to 8am. Our host took us to the town dump, where there is a shack full of free stuff: I picked up some books. We had lunch at the home of the high school chorus director, who served us a delightful meal on the table in her garden. I took a walk around town and then we met to rehearse for the Tuesday concert, after which we gave a promo performance, a few songs and a Q&A session, at the Unitarian Church.
Tuesday, July 21
Up way early again, and out to the Even Keel (http://www.evenkeelcafe.com/)for breakfast, and then to the Bean, a coffee shop, for tea and WiFi. I spent my morning working on an arrangement. Lunch was a buffet at Helen's house, with the board of the Musical Arts Society. Howard turned out to be a graduate of my old school, the Episcopal Academy (Merion, PA). Helen and I had a long talk about running community choruses. I took a brief rest and then dressed for our concert, and walked to the Congregational Church. We rehearsed and then took a break. Our valiant substitute soprano, RS, gave me an excellent hand massage. The concert went well. Pretty decent sized audience, very responsive. Excellent acoustic. Ned Rorem (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ned_Rorem) came up to me afterwards and complimented me on my voice and the group on our tuning. He was still stunning at 85, in a robin's egg blue shirt that picked up his eye color. LC, RS and I went in search of food and found lobster rolls and beer (for me -- LC had a mojito!). I cannot sleep after drinking booze, so my night was restless.
Wednesday, July 22
Up at (gasp) 5:30 and off to the Bean, which opens very early. Tuesday morning there had been another guy doing WiFi there -- this morning he was there again but spoke: you sang last night! It turned out he was Rorem's house guest. We had a nice chat. Then I went to Black Eyed Susan's again and would up joining the chorus director and her husband for breakfast. Then I walked back to our host's house and brought my bags downstairs to wait for the ride to the ferry - where I am now typing this. But I cannot post it till I get home....
Saturday, July 18
EZL and TF arrived at my house at 8am for our departure -- they left EZL's car in my driveway and we took my Subaru. Lovely day, and shockingly little traffic. We stopped for gas on the Merritt and got mixed up with a parade of expensive cars on their way to an auto show. There was a stunning yellow Jag and a shiny Rolls. TF wanted to leave with them, but they were blocking all the gas pumps, except for one that was broken, and we took off to find a different place to refuel. We got onto 95 and stopped in Milford. But we didn't start, because the car wouldn't turn over. A few coughs and then nothing. We pushed it to the side and called AAA. They came and jumped us, and told me my battery needed replacing. So we decided to drive to Hyannis and leave the car someplace for repairs while we went to Nantucket. We stopped at a Getty station and asked if they could handle the car -- their diagnosis was far more expensive than a battery; they said my alternator needed replacing. I was not in a position to comparison shop, with a ferry ticket and gigs to make. So I swallowed and left the car (actually, we drove to the ferry and unloaded our luggage, and the guys from Getty came and picked up the car), taking a business card for a receipt.
We ate at a clam shack by the ferry (http://www.baxterscapecod.com/), where they needed to install a mortgage broker to arrange financing for the lobster rolls. My income has not risen but their prices sure have. I ate the smelt platter, which was more of an adventure than I think I really wanted. The ferry ride was easy and we were soon being driven to our host homes. TF and I stayed in the same place we had stayed 5 years ago, a really neat place chock full of art and tchotchkes with a most hospitable host. We met at 7:15 at the Episcopal Church to rehearse for our Shakespeare in Music program. LC, TF and I walked down to the harbor to find food. And then I went to bed.
Sunday, July 19
Up ludicrously early and out for a walk. I ate breakfast at Black Eyed Susan's (http://www.black-eyedsusans.com/) -- the sausage was terrific. WiFi is hard to find on the island, and I spent a while wandering around looking for a hot spot. We met at the Unitarian Society and sang at the service, and then I managed to squeeze in a nap. We resumed work at 3, rehearsing and then giving the Shakespeare concert. Nice audience and a lot of fun singing Dowland, Weelkes et al. We were treated to dinner at the home of the cellist who had arranged this concert. Her 9 year old son played the piano for us, quite impressively.
Monday, July 20
I managed to sleep in, all the way to 8am. Our host took us to the town dump, where there is a shack full of free stuff: I picked up some books. We had lunch at the home of the high school chorus director, who served us a delightful meal on the table in her garden. I took a walk around town and then we met to rehearse for the Tuesday concert, after which we gave a promo performance, a few songs and a Q&A session, at the Unitarian Church.
Tuesday, July 21
Up way early again, and out to the Even Keel (http://www.evenkeelcafe.com/)for breakfast, and then to the Bean, a coffee shop, for tea and WiFi. I spent my morning working on an arrangement. Lunch was a buffet at Helen's house, with the board of the Musical Arts Society. Howard turned out to be a graduate of my old school, the Episcopal Academy (Merion, PA). Helen and I had a long talk about running community choruses. I took a brief rest and then dressed for our concert, and walked to the Congregational Church. We rehearsed and then took a break. Our valiant substitute soprano, RS, gave me an excellent hand massage. The concert went well. Pretty decent sized audience, very responsive. Excellent acoustic. Ned Rorem (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ned_Rorem) came up to me afterwards and complimented me on my voice and the group on our tuning. He was still stunning at 85, in a robin's egg blue shirt that picked up his eye color. LC, RS and I went in search of food and found lobster rolls and beer (for me -- LC had a mojito!). I cannot sleep after drinking booze, so my night was restless.
Wednesday, July 22
Up at (gasp) 5:30 and off to the Bean, which opens very early. Tuesday morning there had been another guy doing WiFi there -- this morning he was there again but spoke: you sang last night! It turned out he was Rorem's house guest. We had a nice chat. Then I went to Black Eyed Susan's again and would up joining the chorus director and her husband for breakfast. Then I walked back to our host's house and brought my bags downstairs to wait for the ride to the ferry - where I am now typing this. But I cannot post it till I get home....
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Harry Potter and the Tuning Fork of Steel
I had a really odd double bill yesterday: a workshop at the North American Jewish Choral Festival (http://www.zamirfdn.org/index.php?p=7) plus the new Harry Potter movie. But there was a certain Old Testament feeling linking the two events.
First I went on Fandango and ordered my tickets. Since I had promised my kids the movie as a reward for accompanying me to my gig I couldn't risk not getting in. I picked a movie theater in Fishkill, NY so that we would be halfway home when it was over.
Then we drove up to the Hudson Valley Resort and Spa in Kerhonkson, NY. The weather was perfect and the views stunning. We arrived in time for lunch (cod, pasta, latkes, salad, cookies and fudge brownies) and set up for a whirlwind hour and half Western Wind workshop presentation. BZ, EZL and I each took a group of singers and taught them a piece (or in my case two). My group did nicely. We worked for a hour and then got back together to sing for each other. And then it was suddenly over. The kids had time to browse the lobby, which was full of Jewish tchotchkas for sale. They got an object lesson in the difference between Jewish culture on the one hand and Unitarian upbringing with an awareness of Jewish background on the other.
We bundled into the car and drove to Fishkill. I wanted to get there in time to pick up the tickets and see if the line for seating was so long that we would have to eat sandwiches while we stood. But there was almost nobody there. The kid at the ticket booth snickered at me when I asked how long the line might get. So we went to Charlie Brown's Steakhouse, next door, and ate. They had a veggie burger, so M was happy, and a regular beef one, which pleased J. I ate a plate of stuff from the salad bar, mostly artichokes and mushrooms on lettuce.
HP6 was... like all the others. Dark. Threatening. And based on the same "they tried to kill us, they lost, let's eat" formula as much of the Bible, not to mention the previous 5 books. This time of course the ending was tragic (for AD), with an appended attempt at peaceful resolution. Draco Malfoy has grown into a mighty handsome young man -- if only he could display facial expressions other than a sneer or a snivel. Harry has become a fine-featured poetical type, and Ron a big bruiser. Jim Broadbent did a terrific guest star turn as Slughorn. The kids loved it. I am over the whole extended franchise by now. Two more movies, sigh!
We drove home, listening to the Beatles. Classic.
First I went on Fandango and ordered my tickets. Since I had promised my kids the movie as a reward for accompanying me to my gig I couldn't risk not getting in. I picked a movie theater in Fishkill, NY so that we would be halfway home when it was over.
Then we drove up to the Hudson Valley Resort and Spa in Kerhonkson, NY. The weather was perfect and the views stunning. We arrived in time for lunch (cod, pasta, latkes, salad, cookies and fudge brownies) and set up for a whirlwind hour and half Western Wind workshop presentation. BZ, EZL and I each took a group of singers and taught them a piece (or in my case two). My group did nicely. We worked for a hour and then got back together to sing for each other. And then it was suddenly over. The kids had time to browse the lobby, which was full of Jewish tchotchkas for sale. They got an object lesson in the difference between Jewish culture on the one hand and Unitarian upbringing with an awareness of Jewish background on the other.
We bundled into the car and drove to Fishkill. I wanted to get there in time to pick up the tickets and see if the line for seating was so long that we would have to eat sandwiches while we stood. But there was almost nobody there. The kid at the ticket booth snickered at me when I asked how long the line might get. So we went to Charlie Brown's Steakhouse, next door, and ate. They had a veggie burger, so M was happy, and a regular beef one, which pleased J. I ate a plate of stuff from the salad bar, mostly artichokes and mushrooms on lettuce.
HP6 was... like all the others. Dark. Threatening. And based on the same "they tried to kill us, they lost, let's eat" formula as much of the Bible, not to mention the previous 5 books. This time of course the ending was tragic (for AD), with an appended attempt at peaceful resolution. Draco Malfoy has grown into a mighty handsome young man -- if only he could display facial expressions other than a sneer or a snivel. Harry has become a fine-featured poetical type, and Ron a big bruiser. Jim Broadbent did a terrific guest star turn as Slughorn. The kids loved it. I am over the whole extended franchise by now. Two more movies, sigh!
We drove home, listening to the Beatles. Classic.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Time to let my mind wander
Yesterday -- two gigs in two states, separated by The City.
First the wedding, in Garden City, NY. I HATE driving on Long Island. I know most of the tricks and dodges, but the traffic snarls anyway. I wasn't late, amazingly. We rehearsed at 2 (a choir of 6, with organ) and the service started a little past 3. Nice music (Ubi caritas, Ave verum, Ave maris stella). The officiant was a bishop, a round, jolly man in a big shovel hat. The church was huge and even with the sound system turned up it was hard to make out his words amidst the reverb. I pondered the issue of gay marriage for a while as I listened to the language of the Catholic wedding ceremony, driven as it is by the issue of "issue." The parents got ovations as they exited: they had done their job and gotten their kids hitched so that they could have kids and get an ovation upon completion of their task and so on. Where do other types of union fit into that model? Or to put it another way, I can see why two lovers of any stripe would want the legal protections of marriage but why would they want this sort of communal sendoff, at least in this format and with this language? (I know, services can be tailored to fot the need.) As you can see, there was a lot of down time between anthems!
Then I drove to Millburn, NJ for a Western Wind rehearsal at LC's house. PC had made curry, and a pie concocted from cherries soaked in Frangelico stirred into chocolate mousse. In a chocolate graham cracker crust. That did in fact justify the two hour trek on the LIE, under the East River, across Midtown, under the Hudson, and through the used-sneaker-making district of New Jersey. We got some useful rehearsing done, although breath support was an issue on top of that meal!
First the wedding, in Garden City, NY. I HATE driving on Long Island. I know most of the tricks and dodges, but the traffic snarls anyway. I wasn't late, amazingly. We rehearsed at 2 (a choir of 6, with organ) and the service started a little past 3. Nice music (Ubi caritas, Ave verum, Ave maris stella). The officiant was a bishop, a round, jolly man in a big shovel hat. The church was huge and even with the sound system turned up it was hard to make out his words amidst the reverb. I pondered the issue of gay marriage for a while as I listened to the language of the Catholic wedding ceremony, driven as it is by the issue of "issue." The parents got ovations as they exited: they had done their job and gotten their kids hitched so that they could have kids and get an ovation upon completion of their task and so on. Where do other types of union fit into that model? Or to put it another way, I can see why two lovers of any stripe would want the legal protections of marriage but why would they want this sort of communal sendoff, at least in this format and with this language? (I know, services can be tailored to fot the need.) As you can see, there was a lot of down time between anthems!
Then I drove to Millburn, NJ for a Western Wind rehearsal at LC's house. PC had made curry, and a pie concocted from cherries soaked in Frangelico stirred into chocolate mousse. In a chocolate graham cracker crust. That did in fact justify the two hour trek on the LIE, under the East River, across Midtown, under the Hudson, and through the used-sneaker-making district of New Jersey. We got some useful rehearsing done, although breath support was an issue on top of that meal!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Ich hab' im Traum geweinet
This is just intolerable. But I have to manage it.
I agreed to sing Schumann's Dichterliebe on August 3rd at the Summit Music Festival. The Summit Music Festival is in residence at Manhattanville College. Manhattanville College is where I taught for the past 7 years and find myself no longer employed, due to a series of events that would be hilarious if the result were not so upsetting. And so I find myself trekking onto a campus where I no longer feel myself to be welcome, and on top of it all ran into two former students of mine today, who seemed delighted to see me....but they are now somebody else's students. Indeed, they were part of the search process for my replacement. One of the candidates for the job, an old CityOp friend of mine, called me for the scoop on the job, not realizing that he would be auditioning to take my place, not to be my colleague. That was awkward. I explained the situation to him, being as fairminded as I could manage while still calling down the furies.
Two more rehearsals and then the performance. Then I think I have to shut this door.
I agreed to sing Schumann's Dichterliebe on August 3rd at the Summit Music Festival. The Summit Music Festival is in residence at Manhattanville College. Manhattanville College is where I taught for the past 7 years and find myself no longer employed, due to a series of events that would be hilarious if the result were not so upsetting. And so I find myself trekking onto a campus where I no longer feel myself to be welcome, and on top of it all ran into two former students of mine today, who seemed delighted to see me....but they are now somebody else's students. Indeed, they were part of the search process for my replacement. One of the candidates for the job, an old CityOp friend of mine, called me for the scoop on the job, not realizing that he would be auditioning to take my place, not to be my colleague. That was awkward. I explained the situation to him, being as fairminded as I could manage while still calling down the furies.
Two more rehearsals and then the performance. Then I think I have to shut this door.
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