Working with Idols

Here it is the middle of the seventh week since I began my incredible journey as an HGO Studio Artist. I’m that kind of person who finds meaning in experiences, seizes opportunities, and is grateful for everything in his life. I have to say it, even though it may sound trite, but I honestly, never thought I would be here, in the studio of one of the world’s best opera companies. Many Houstonians are surprised to find that their opera company is one of the top in the country, with great companies as the Metropolitan Opera, Lyric Opera of Chicago, and San Francisco Opera. Some of the biggest stars have had their debuts here, and the Studio has been a home for some of opera’s biggest stars. It is humbling and exciting for me to have walked where so many of my idols have walked.

I remember our week of auditions like it was yesterday, and I think I’m still on cloud nine from the whole experience. I was nervous about our week of auditions, and yet, I felt strangely at home. Even if I had not been granted a spot in the studio, the company is a place of southern hospitality and most importantly a family. The music staff is world renowned. The company’s long history shows it is a company that not only survives floods and fires, but a company that grows and thrives within its community.

Week seven, and while I have been having the time of my life, I’m ashamed to say that I still have boxes I’ve yet to unpack in my apartment, only because we’ve been so busy getting ready for this season’s opening shows, L’Elisir d’Amore and Lohengrin. Being busy is a definite perk for the life of an artist. I would much rather not have time to do anything but work, and my parents and friends would say the exact opposite about their lives, but my work truly is my life’s passion. I eat, sleep, breathe opera.

Around week 4 of the program, I got the incredible opportunity to rehearse with the main cast of L’Elisir. I am performing the role of Nemorino in the student matinees and high school night performances of L’Elisir, but I got to jump in and get my feet wet in what is a new role for me, with the best possible situation. John Osborne (a phenomenal tenor!), the principal Nemorino, could not be at rehearsal until October 2nd, but staging rehearsals for the show started on September 21st. All of the other singers were here and ready to rehearse, but there was no Nemorino. This was my opportunity to help out the cast, and to learn from incredible stars and musicians. Eduardo Müller is one of the most famous conductors in the world, especially in the world of Bel Canto (the style of music/singing of Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore). Ekaterina Siurina is the Adina in the show and performed the role in Glyndebourne, where the production originated. Alessandro Corbelli, is quite possibly the most famous Dulcamara of opera today. Liam Bonner is Belcore, the egotistical-ladies-man Sargeant, who is Nemorino’s rival for Adina’s affection. Mezzo-soprano, Catherine Martin, who is also a fellow studio member, sings Giannetta (usually cast with a soprano). The cast was complete minus a Nemorino, who, if you know the show, is quite central in most of the drama.

For two weeks, I got to rehearse and absorb as much as I could in the best of all possible casts for this show. I would be lying to say I wasn’t sad to bow out when John Osborne arrived to take his place as Nemorino, but I will forever be grateful for that opportunity. Now, I get to watch John work in this role. One of the fantastic things about opera is that different people bring different qualities to a character, and those differences can change often, sometimes from show to show. I love live theater for that very fact. Working with the cast as Nemorino, and now watching John work with those same people, I feel as though I have a well-rounded perspective of not only this role and this opera, but how opera companies produce a show.

This week we begin rehearsing the music for the alternate cast of L’Elisir d’Amore. Having worked with all of those fantastic people for that short period of time, has really prepared me for truly exploring this role and this opera. I am so excited to get to work with my fellow studio members. I am sure it will be a great show. Hope to see you there!!!

L’Elisir d’Amore opens on October 23rd, and if you can find a way to get tickets to the matinees (Nov. 4th and Nov. 6th) or the high school night (Nov. 9th), come see a cast of HGO Studio members. This is a fantastic show for first time opera goers. It is a comedy of a boy who loves a girl and will do anything to just get her to notice him.

Nathaniel Peake - HGO Studio Artist

Ah, veglia donna

Well ladies and gentlemen, I'm smack dab in the middle of doing two shows at once. One, is completely new: Brief Encounter by Andre Previn (more on that later), and the other, Rigoletto (by Giuseppi Verdi), is a standard. Almost everyone coming to see this or stepping into rehearsal has seen and heard Rigoletto for years. It's just one of those operas that, if you're in this career or if you're an opera fan, you just know it. Its definately one of those that you could hear a snippet of the music and be able to identify it.

Except for me, of course. I'm one of those weird opera singers that had yearly subscriptions to Rolling Stone Magazine and flat out refused to commit to opera and singer-geared magazines until somewhere in the last year. (I still read my RS.) And, I don't come from an opera background, so I don't automatically know the plots of these time honored operas that thousands of people have already fallen in love with. But, there's no time like the present, and in my opinion, there's no better way to fall in love with an opera than coming at it from a completely fresh point of view.

I'm performing a very small role in this production at Houston Grand Opera, and her name is Giovanna. I've done a lot of maid/servant roles (and I'll do many more yet as a mezzo), but this is the first one that shows a truly nasty side. Forget this mezzo being the soprano's best pal from years of living in the same house... Giovanna, as small of a sing that she is, plays an important role in moving the plot along: she lets the Duke into the house, which in turn gets Gilda abducted. You know the rest. And, if you don't, I'm not going to tell you! :)

The other show that I'm doing right now, Brief Encounter, is a brand new opera by a wonderful team of creators. Andre Previn, as previously introduced, is the composer. John Caird is our director and librettist. These two men, with countless others, are leading the way to making something that only exists on paper into something living and breathing on stage. I've done several world premieres before, and I have to note... to me, it's not very different from doing a standard rep opera (mostly for the reasons above). There are a few key differences though... for one, the composer is living. Which means that, in a sense, so is the score. I workshopped this piece about a year ago, and from that time until this point, this score has undergone probably hundreds of changes. And that was probably just before the singers got into town. A real luxury in having a live composer and a librettist who also happens to be the director is that when something doesn't work, it gets changed. If a note is too high, or if a word just doesn't work in a certain spot, the problem is discussed, and in most cases, fixed right there in the rehearsal. Of course, that makes for an interesting challenge in remembering all of the changes and unlearning what you put a lot of time in the first place to learn, but it's worth it for the ending product.

So, as you can see, it's quite busy around here right now! But, I'm looking forward to opening Rigoletto on April 17th and to getting into dress rehearsals with Brief Encounter. Both shows should result in one heck of a sending off for the end of my time in the HGO Studio!

Keystrokes with the Maestro

About a month ago, we HGO Studio pianists received some exciting and slightly scary news. We were going to get three conducting coachings with HGO Music Director Patrick Summers. We had only a few weeks to come in ready to conduct, play, and sing through Acts II and III of Rigoletto. It was an enormous amount of music to learn amidst other major projects, such as learning an entirely new opera, Previn’s Brief Encounter. But there was no question it would be worth it and somehow we crammed it all in. We used every bit of extra free time we could manage to be prepared for the Maestro—I know I managed to amuse some kids in the Boston airport, waving my pencil at an imaginary orchestra. Hours before our first sessions, we were still at it, pounding and caterwauling Rigoletto simultaneously from three practice rooms. After getting together to do a little preliminary conducting of each other, we went off to meet the Maestro.
It was no surprise that the sessions were great. We covered many topics such as “to subdivide or not to subdivide”, how much rubato (a fluctuation of tempo within a musical phrase often against a rhythmically steady accompaniment) can one use and where, and Verdi’s frequently ignored metronome markings. We also explored the crucial issue of exactly what our ear should focus on while conducting. For instance, at the beginning of Rigoletto’s “Cortigiani” our impulse was to listen to the fast and furious violin lines, and to shape them through our conducting. Yet when the Maestro urged us to turn our ear and baton to the sparse bass line, the piece opened up, breathed, and even became easier to play.
Now that we are in rehearsals for Brief Encounter, which Maestro Summers is also conducting, I feel that the lessons continue. As I respond as a player to his beat, I’m also analyzing it in light of all that we discussed during our Rigoletto sessions. It’s inspiring. Every beat has a clarity that not only indicates “make sound here” but what the quality of that sound should be.
That these continuing “lessons” are part of my daily work at the opera make me feel very fortunate to be a part of one of the best professional arts organizations around.

So you want to hold a masterclass...

What is a masterclass anyway? The basic format is that a select group of young artists perform and coach their repertoire with an established professional in their field – all with their peers looking on and listening.

How the master professionals choose to use the time is anything but basic. What kind of learning atmosphere will they create? What boundaries will they establish for themselves in terms of what or what not to say? How does one go about giving advice and coaching to a young artist for the first time in front of total strangers?

I don’t know if those were the exact questions on Joyce DiDonato’s mind when she came to hold a masterclass with the HGO Studio last month, but it was clear from the first moment that she came with a constructive vision for how the time would pass (whether or not she’d admit that to you!)

The way Joyce introduced herself to us was as memorable as any of the work we did afterwards.

She talked to us about herself and the way her career began – and didn’t begin in as many words. She readily answered any questions we had about her conservatory training and her time as an HGO studio artist. There is something altogether transcendent and encouraging about listening to a talented goddess like Joyce DiDonato talk plainly and openly about her journey to where she is now, without the slightest hint of bitterness about past failures or boasting about present success.

Before moving on to the singing portion of our class, she reminded us to do something for our own journeys that too many of us forget in the daily grind, “Enjoy the ride.” Then one by one, singers got up to perform a range of repertoire from “Depuis le jour” to “Se vuol ballare” to “Give him this orchid.”

I think the best word to describe what she wanted from us consistently through both sessions was awareness. Awareness of what? It varied from person to person. Often times we default into certain habits when we’re not really living in the moment or being specific with our text. Glazed expression, a careless arm gesture here, a tossed-away verb there – sometimes we give the illusion of being connected to what we’re saying but in reality even the most artistically illiterate audience can pick up on insincerity.

It was this tendency that Joyce relentlessly picked out and made us redo with textual and presentational precision. She helped us take risks that might be counterintuitive but deceptively simple, whether it might mean staring at one fixed point for the first eight measures or smiling during a particularly horrible and traumatic point in the aria.

And you just know that the class is awesome when the pianists are just as riveted by what’s going on as the singers.

-JML

A Firecracker Role

I've just finished my week of alternate cast performances of Beatrice and Benedict. Although this show may not be considered a well-known opera, it's a show and a role (Ursule) that I've wanted to work on for a long time. I first fell in love with B&B through hearing the beautiful "Nocturne" that ends Act I at the wonderful Colin Graham's memorial concert. He had planned the programming for his own memorial concert, and included pieces of music that meant a great deal to him. I remember being moved to tears when Kiera Duffy (soprano) and Mary McCormick (mezzo-soprano) went into the second section of the duet, and I knew right then that I wanted to sing it one day.

And, that day came last Tuesday!

We sang three shows for packed houses of the most energetic audiences I have sung for in my life: two (early!) morning elementary school shows with a high school evening performance in the middle. I honestly thought we'd get the biggest response from the morning shows, but was entirely surprised when the high school night absolutely blew the other two audiences out of the water! It was so much fun to hear them "Ooo!" and "Aaah!" when Beatrice and Benedict (played by two Studio members, Faith Sherman and Beau Gibson) finally admitted their feelings for each other. I think the thing that caught me most off guard was that they actually laughed at the jokes! Not that the jokes in this aren't funny, but this is Shakespearian language which is sliced and diced into small bits of dialogue. It's not the easiest thing to follow, but they were on top of it, laughing in places that most of the regular audiences missed. Joyce DiDonato (the 1st cast Beatrice) told me earlier on that she was jealous that she didn't get the high school night, and now I know why! What fun!

I also have to say that putting this character together was a great learning process and a lot of fun for me as well. In my time as an opera singer I have done a lot of character and bit roles. However, I've never really run across such a flirt as Ursule! She is bawdy, flirtatious, and downright crass at times, but she is FUN! At first I didn't see it. Her music is just so serene and luscious (the “Nocturne” and the Act II trio are both her main pieces), and does not immediately lend itself to such a firecracker of a woman. However, her dialogue is in complete contrast! (I.e. I got to say "Twill be heavier soon by the weight of man!" in response to Hero mentioning that her heart was "exceeding heavy"... firecracker, no?) I think it took right up until the final dress for me to find Ursule's personality in full. I am an actress that really finds my character in the clothes. That is to say, when I get into costume, I feel like I am finally that person. I also got to be blonde for the show, and I decided to test drive the whole theory that blondes have more fun. I'm still up in the air about that, but if Ursule is any indication, I'm sure it's got some validity to it!

So, now that the shows are over, I have no more long nights at the opera house. I am not watching this opera every single night, and I get 8 hours of sleep (if I can tear myself away from Grey's Anatomy on abc.com.) Life is a little more back to normal, but a little less fun without Ursule in it every day. -JB

Photo by Felix Sanchez

Unsung Heroes

It could have been so much worse.

I realize that by now that has become somewhat of a cliché in Houston, where most of us were spared the utter devastation that Hurricane Ike wreaked upon our neighbors in Galveston and other areas further south. I also realize that is small comfort to many of us who have to cope with damaged homes, financial woes, and, still in some cases, no electricity.

Perhaps it is too early to count our blessings while we mourn lost lives and lost homes, but perhaps it is precisely the right time for the more fortunate of us (myself among them) to take inventory of all that we have not lost.

I will always associate Hurricane Ike with something gained - a new and deepened admiration of the Studio Buddies.

The week after the storm, one of the most oft-repeated phrases used in conversations with my studio colleagues was, “I have the coolest buddies EVER.” They offered us shelter during the storm and after, and those that could gave us a place to have air conditioning, hot showers, full meals, and iced drinks. Those without power still found ways to be there for us, from calling us to offer assistance in what ways they could or taking us out to lunch or dinner once the restaurants were up and running.

For those of you who don’t know who these mysterious people are, the Studio Buddies are comprised of individuals and couples who dedicate a ridiculous amount of time and money to making our transition to Houston as studio artists a warm and welcoming experience. Their love for opera is surpassed only by their generosity and love for a great conversation over lots of delicious food, wine, and beer.

You’d think they would have cancelled the big welcome party which they were going to throw for us that week. Everyone would have understood, yes? Nope. They threw a party in true Buddies fashion complete with all the goodness I’ve mentioned above, and if they were dealing with their own troubles post-Ike, none of us would have known.

That’s not a definition of “neighbor” you’ll find on dictionary.com, but I can’t think of a better one.

this is our moment

Our poor blog has been neglected too long. Some of the reasons include the choosing of next year's Studio, the world premiere, the planning process for next season, and the rehearsing of our last two operas...at least we don't have to ask where the time went! There's much to catch up on and reasons to reflect, but let me start with the project that's been taking up most of our collective time: Benjamin Britten's masterful Billy Budd.
There's a lot to say about Britten and why HGO has chosen to focus on his work in coming seasons, but right now our company is in thrall to this piece. It's enormous. But opera's big, right? How is this one even bigger? A checklist...

1. A huge, complex orchestra that whispers and roars, rattles and sings. This band has "quadruple winds", which is hip conductor-speak for four of each kind of wind instrument. At least that many of each brass instrument, too. Seven timpani players. Huge drums onstage. An ocean of strings. And, just for icing on the cake, a live explosion backstage. Clearly, I'm betraying my own penchant for headbanging noise in the way I list things here, but nothing beats the sound of an orchestra like this in full cry except the sound of the same orchestra playing on the edge of silence. Nothing, nothing, NOTHING beats the energy of so many musicians concentrating, breathing, and hearing together.
2. A similarly huge group of singers onstage. The cast list is long, but it's the chorus that makes the show - there are around one hundred men and boys aboard the Indomitable. And it's an all-male night, which makes for some of the most thrilling choruses imaginable - but, as with the orchestra, the most breathtaking moments come when that mass of men prays together in a murmur.
3. A set that rotates, opens up to several levels and closes again, can support forty men, is a boat, a road, a hill, a slope, and the jaws of hell.
4. A story that is about, variously (and this is a partial list), the depth of human connection, the human propensity to worship and destroy what is best in themselves, the allegory of sacrifice, thwarted love, the impossibility of justice, the acceptance of the mixed suffering and joy in existence. Fledermaus it ain't.

A piece of this breadth, depth, and height will challenge and stretch an entire company. Yes, every piece of music is worth doing well, and it's difficult to do even "simple" music well - ask any musician about the Bach inventions or the Mozart sonatas, pieces that we study as teenagers, and no one will call them easy. But when all those people I listed above (performers, but also crew members who are dealing with that set, stage managers, all the backstage people who must dress and wig and assist that huge cast, those who must plan their travel and accomodation, those who must see to their compensation and care) are working to full capacity, a magical thing begins to happen in a company. No one can do their job halfway, no one can "phone it in". Everyone is tired but focused. The halls begin to contain passionate conversation about what is right and wrong in the production. Everyone begins to own the process and the hoped-for triumph.

And the day after the dress rehearsal? You should have heard our orchestra playing La Boheme. A popular opera, a great one, and by no means easy. But - transformed, after climbing the mountain of Britten's masterpiece.

We're a company transformed. This is our moment, the one we've been waiting for these long weeks.

-dkz