This afternoon, I had a very productive conference call with two friends who had decided to join me in my quest for self-improvement. Abigail and Amy are helping to keep me on track (while I keep them on track as well). In addition to giving each other encouragement and ideas, we’re considering creating a podcast to talk about our experiences in the biz (don’t go looking for it on iTunes yet, though!). But the three of us left the meeting energized and looking forward to our next meeting, at a “Boost Your Acting Career” workshop by Dallas Travers in New York next month.
New Year’s Resolutions
I jokingly posted this tweet on New Year’s Eve, and unfortunately (but not surprisingly) I didn’t win the lottery.
In lieu of a windfall, I didn’t have many other resolutions to offer myself come midnight. Yes, I’ve got to continue with my weight-loss goal. Yes, I need to continue singing more. But are these really resolutions? They’re more like continuations.
Last night, I spoke with my friend Abby, who reiterated to me what I had been saying to myself for a while: I need to audition more. So does she, she said, and we decided we should keep each other on track and accountable in a sort of blogger’s pledge.
So, here we go: starting next Monday, I pledge to make at least 5 new contacts to the singing industry per month. Contacts can include an audition or sending out materials. I’m not exactly sure how to keep track of this on this blog (I’d prefer to keep the contacts confidential, for obvious reasons), but maybe Abby and I can write about what happens as a result of these contacts?
Any suggestions as to how we can keep each other accountable?
Internet Sensation
When I answered my phone yesterday morning, I never expected I’d be asked to do an interview on Fox News.
Last month’s Opera Company of Philadelphia’s Random Act of Culture (the “flash mob” Hallelujah Chorus at Macy’s in Philadelphia) made such a splash on the internet that a whole bunch of similar events are popping up from Toronto to Jacksonville. The Toronto group made such a splash that Fox News did a segment on it yesterday, only to be barraged with emails telling them that OCP was the originator of the idea…which led Fox decide to air another piece about Philadelphia’s flash mob today.
Hence the phone call.
Fox had asked to speak to someone from OCP administration as well as a singer, and I guess my laughing face in the Philadelphia Inquirer photo made me a good candidate to be the face of such a joyful event. “They’ll be sending a car service to pick you up,” OCP told me. “You will be on the air at 6:50 AM.”
When I got the car service confirmation email, I saw that the car would be picking me up at 5:20. Sheesh. Good thing I didn’t have a late night rehearsal.
So I went to bed early and woke up at 4:30, took a shower, put an inordinate amount of product in my hair to make it do the pretty curly thing, and slipped into the outfit that I had painstakingly picked out the night before. I made sure my make-up was just so (I had no idea what to expect: would there be hair and make-up people there? Probably not, I figured; after all, my segment would probably be less than 5 minutes long), and was wide awake and ready for the car to pick me up.
5:20 came and went, but no car. At 5:25, I called the car service company, only to find out that dispatch for the company was in Los Angeles. They patched me through to New York, where dispatcher knew who I was right away because apparently my driver was lost. That didn’t bode well, I thought. Worst case scenario, I could drive myself.
At 5:30, a sedan pulled into my driveway and idled for a while. I knew the driver was supposed to call me, but I couldn’t wait any longer, so I stepped outside. He saw me and stepped out of the car — he was wearing a tuxedo! — to open the car door for me. What service! He apologized profusely for being late and blamed it on his GPS (I’ve never had a problem with GPS finding my house before, but okay). He kept apologizing the entire 40-minute ride to the television station! I managed to get him to talk about something else eventually, but he even apologized as he was letting me out of the car. Oy.
We finally got to the station, which wasn’t the major Fox outlet that I thought it was going to be. I was expecting a bustling news room and a table full of pastries and coffee (I was getting hungry). Instead, it was just a small video company that does satellite links to news stations (among other things). They had a tiny bit of coffee left, which OCP’s Executive Director, David, shared with me, and about a dozen large jars of candies and pretzels. I popped a mint into my mouth while we were waiting.
Fox and Friends was playing in the waiting room, and we heard the first teaser to our segment: “Coming up: we talk to the pastor that started the Messiah in a mall trend.” Pastor? I looked at David.
“I think he must have said ‘master,'” David said. We both shrugged it off.
All too quickly, they were ready for us to get set up for our interview. The actual show was going on in New York (where I’m SURE there were pastries and coffee!), and we would be joining them through the magic of television. We were ushered into a dark, windowless room with nothing but two chairs, a backdrop of the Philadelphia skyline and a remote-controlled camera. The woman who was running everything (the only person in the office!) helped us put our microphones on and earbuds in, but she would be controlling the audio and visual feeds from outside the room.
I thought for sure we would see ourselves or the anchors on a monitor, but everything was turned off. So I stared into the black hole of the camera and listened to the newscast through my earbud. We heard another teaser for our segment: “Coming up next: we reported on the flash mob Messiah yesterday; now we meet the pastor who started it all. Filled with God, he joins us live.”
David and I looked at each other and giggled.
Every once in a while, the audio would be interrupted by a producer asking us to count or say our names for a sound check. David made sure to mention he was the Executive Director of the Opera Company of Philadelphia, not a pastor. And about a minute before our segment started, the anchor who was interviewing us (Steve Doocy) asked us a few questions about ourselves and the Random Act of Culture at Macy’s.
And then we were on. It went by so fast. Keep smiling, Maren. Keep your answers short. Be yourself. I had a few things that I had already planned to say in my head, and they came out almost exactly the way I wanted them to.
Success! Three minutes later, we were done, and the producer was burning a DVD. I got back in my black sedan, resisted the urge to say, “Home, James,” and arrived at my house before my husband had even gotten out of bed.
Not bad for an early morning, if I do say so myself.
Isn’t It Ironic?
I sang with 650 people at Macy’s a few weeks ago for a “Random Act of Culture” organized by the Opera Company of Philadelphia in conjunction with the Knight Foundation, and got a few seconds of face time on the video…and suddenly I’m being recognized by strangers in Lancaster. So I guess my choral work, not my solo work, is what’s making me famous?
On Being A Diva
For the last few days, I’ve been in Lancaster, PA rehearsing for Verdi’s Requiem with the Lancaster Symphony Orchestra. It has been quite an exciting experience, performing a such a substantial solo in such a touchstone piece. I’m enjoying every minute of my time here, not just because I get to sing my heart out every single day, but also because I’m not very used to being on the soloist side of the stage; usually in concerts like this, I’m behind the orchestra, singing with the chorus.
Suffice to say, the soloist experience is more heady and exciting. Not to say that I don’t enjoy singing in choruses — I do!! — but it certainly is nice to be put up in a hotel room, given your own dressing room with flowers (and chocolate), and treated with respect. (Choruses are the Rodney Dangerfield of the classical music world, unfortunately).
The conductor, Maestro Francesco La Vecchia, is a fantastic conductor who knows Verdi inside and out, but his English is not very strong. So he speaks in half English, half Italian phrases, which makes me work overtime trying to translate everything. Of course, when I try to speak Italian to him, my brain freezes, and all I can get out is “sì,” or “va bene.” Last night, I stammered out a phrase in Italian that I had carefully crafted in my head before speaking, and he finished my sentence for me and rattled off several rapid-fire questions, which I answered with a blank stare while I inwardly did a face-palm.
I did apologize for my poor Italian, and he apologized for his poor English. One of the difficulties of having an international career, he explained, is that one has to learn many different languages in order to communicate to the orchestras. He has conducted orchestras that speak Spanish, Portuguese, Hungarian, German, Russian, and English…and he only ever studied French in school. I guess I have it easy!
So tonight is the first performance of the Requiem, and I’m very excited. I have my outfit all picked out, and I’m determined to rest as much as I can today. It should be a good show!
Working on Mahler
So I had all these grand plans about posting a day-by-day journal of my trials and tribulations learning Mahler’s Ruckert-lieder for my concert with the Delaware County Symphony this Sunday. But then life intervened, and I spent more time actually learning the music rather than writing about the process.
So, suffice it to say: this concert is my first professional solo experience with an orchestra. I’m 35 years old and I’ve performed solos in front of a big band, in opera houses, and with choruses, but never just me and an orchestra, and it’s kind of nerve-wracking. I’ve got the music memorized, but it’s still a little shaky, and I’m worried I’ll forget as soon as I start listening to the orchestra instead of the recordings I’ve been practicing with. Maybe I should hold the music just in case? Would that look bad? I think it would look worse if I completely forgot all the words in front of a full audience!
I’ve got a dress rehearsal tomorrow, and I’ve promised to put my book down for that rehearsal. We’ll see how it goes. I’d love to be able to have it down cold, but my brain hasn’t gotten to that point yet…
Either way, this is good practice, because the next opportunity I will have to sing with a full orchestra will be in November for Verdi’s Requiem with the Lancaster Symphony Orchestra. Masses and cantatas don’t require soloists to memorize their music, but I certainly would rather have my head out of the music as much as possible.
Keep your fingers crossed.
Podcasting
Many years ago, when I still lived in New York, I took a voiceover class. I really enjoyed it, and I even made a demo CD at the end of it all. Nothing ever came of it, however; the voiceover market is incredibly competitive, and I was busy (still am!) putting myself out there as a singer.
Until this summer.
That’s when Mike Bolton (no, not that one) from the Opera Company of Philadelphia asked me to co-host In Tune, the podcast for OCP’s upcoming productions.
So I sat down in the studio and recorded podcasts for the operas in the 2010-11 season: Otello, Romeo & Juliet, Tosca, The Cunning Little Vixen, and Phaedra.
What fun I had! Mike and I were very comfortable around each other, and we managed to get everything recorded in two sessions.
Anyway, if you are interested in listening to the podcasts, go to the OCP website and download the sound files. I guarantee you’ll learn some cool things about opera!
Maren’s Guide to San Francisco (Part 2)
From Ghirardelli Square, I walked down to the waterfront, and took in the view of the C.A. Thayer, a three-masted schooner that is a part of the Maritime Museum at Fisherman’s Wharf. I spent the night on the C.A. Thayer with my class when I was in third grade. We all pretended that we were whalers on the way to Washington, and we learned sea shanties and how to tie knots. She sat there in the harbor, calm and proud, as I viewed her from the hill. I hope elementary classes still spend the night on board; it was a wonderful experience that made me appreciate ships greatly.
I had some appointments downtown, so I drove towards the Civic Center and parked in another lot (street parking in San Francisco is about as scarce as it is in Philadelphia). I walked to Davies Symphony Hall and the War Memorial Opera House, where I spent so much of my time singing in the San Francisco Girls Chorus. Circumnavigating these structures, I realized that in my childhood memories, everything was so much taller! Not that any of these buildings are small, mind you…but they certainly looked much less intimidating as an adult.
I remember everything about that opera house. While I was in the SF Girls Chorus, I got to be in the children’s chorus for Carmen, La Boheme, I Pagliacci, Cavalleria Rusticana, Werther (where I made my SF Opera debut and performed with Alfredo Kraus and Renata Scotto) before I grew taller than the five-foot maximum height. I also remember exiting the stage door by the courtyard and seeing my mom’s car waiting for me, all prepped with pillows and blankets so I could sleep on the way home.
After my trip down memory lane, I met with a friend from Philadelphia who had just moved to the Bay Area, and then I went to sing at a performance class at the San Francisco Conservatory. The class was run by Marcie Stapp, a renowned vocal coach (and the wife of a colleague of mine), and it was an opportunity for students and professionals alike to work on their audition skills.
If you are in the San Francisco area and are interested in working on your operatic rep, you should come to this class. It’s very informal, informative, and the group is supportive. Because it was summertime, the class was pretty empty (only 6 people), but it apparently gets very full once the regular season begins.
Now that I’m back home, I feel like it’s apropos that I am ending my SF tour with a story about singing…after all, I left San Francisco to sing in college, and this time I left to come back to Philadelphia and my singing career here. But I’ll always love San Francisco, and I will miss the smell of eucalyptus and salt air. As I swelter in this humidity back on the East Coast, I will miss the cool, cool fog most of all.
Where Everybody Knows Your Name
Friday in Chico turned out to be all about the performing arts for me. My cousin is pretty active in the local drama groups, and he acts and directs a number of shows each year. He invited a few actors over to his house to read through the first act of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, which one of the community theaters was going to perform for a fundraiser. He hadn’t been able to find anyone to read the part of Honey, so he asked me if I’d like to do it. “Sure,” I replied.
The actors came over, and we all sat around the dining room table with our scripts, munching on some fruit and reading through the play. When we were done, my cousin (who will be directing the show) joked that the first rehearsal will be in New Jersey, because they need to cast me in the role. All the other actors agreed, which was very flattering, since I haven’t been in a play in a very, very long time! As they left, they all promised to come to the bar that night for the show my cousin was putting together.
As I mentioned in my previous post, my cousin owns a bar in downtown Chico. It’s a small town, so pretty much everyone knows who he is, and anyone who doesn’t know him personally definitely knows Duffy’s Tavern.
Since he owns the place, he was able to bump the Irish band that usually plays there on Friday nights in favor of putting his two cousins (and himself) on the stage. He made a few phone calls to put together an impromptu band, then invited the cast of a show he is in (Go-Go, a British Invasion musical) to perform some of the songs from the show. He sent out a huge email blast, and we were all set to perform during happy hour.
My dad and I leafed through his Fake Book to find some appropriate songs to perform. I decided on “I Get A Kick Out Of You,” my dad picked some songs too, and we sent the lead sheets to the band leader so he could take a look at it before the gig.
When we got to the bar at 4:00, the place was pretty empty. The band leader was setting up the stage, and a long-haired blond kid named Loki (I kid you not, that is his name) was tuning his guitar as well. Loki hugged my cousin and stared at me like he was seeing an angel. I felt slightly creeped out, but decided not to mention anything because he seemed pretty harmless (I found out later that he had dropped acid that afternoon and was tripping the entire night, which explains a lot).
I looked around asked where the drums and keyboards were, and I was told that my cousin couldn’t get anyone on drums or keyboards at such short notice, so we were stuck with three guitars (another guitarist showed up a few minutes later) and no microphones. I wasn’t too concerned about the lack of mics for me in such a small room — I can make a big sound when I want to — but acoustic guitars are quiet instruments by nature, and I was worried no one would really be able to hear the chords under the melody.
But we had to make do with what we had, so the guitars started playing, and then they invited different people to come up and sing: Samantha, a talented belter in the cast of Go-Go; Kelly, a friendly bass (also in the cast of Go-Go); my dad; me; and my cousin. I only had the one song, whereas everyone else had two or three. I guess I probably could have prepared more songs, but I didn’t know what the scene would be like, and doing jazz (especially with my jazz trumpeter dad) always makes me a little shy and self-conscious.
It’s a good thing that I sang in the first set, because after 5:00, the bar started getting really crowded and loud. My dad sang another song and played his trumpet and flugelhorn while Kelly sang a few numbers. My cousin got up with the cast of Go-Go and started singing songs from the show. As the crowd got louder and louder, the singers couldn’t hear the guitars hardly at all, and everyone was trying to belt really loudly to be heard over the din of the bar. My cousin got the bright idea of getting the audience to sing along, which worked quite well, although the guitars were still inaudible. But everyone was having a great time, and that’s what counts.
Happy Hour was over at 7:00, and my dad and I went back to the house, leaving my cousin to chat with his customers. When my cousin came back home, we all ordered Chinese food and hunkered down with a movie for our final evening in Chico.
The Crossing: Month of Moderns II
I know I was going to write about my learning process. Trouble is, I’ve been too busy learning to write about it!
I’m really excited about the concert I’ll be peforming in today, though. The Crossing is in the middle of its second annual Month of Moderns (a festival of new music), and we’re doing some really wonderful stuff. I’m especially excited about the piece by Lansing McLoskey that we commissioned for our “Levine Project” (works inspired by the poetry of Philip Levine). His piece is called The Memory of Rain, and I feel like it really captures Levine’s juxtaposition of industry and nature quite brilliantly.
Here is a podcast of our conductor, Donald Nally, discussing Levine’s poetry with composers Lansing McLoskey and Paul Fowler (we will be premiering his commissioned piece for the Levine Project next week).
[audio:http://www.supermaren.com/Audio/Crossing_Volume_4.2.mp3]