Mobile phones

The type of ringtone gives you an over-all idea who doesn’t switch their phones off. That annoying, standard Nokia ringtone indicates someone who only has a mobile phone because they’ve been forced to, don’t really use it, it never rings, they don’t know how to switch it (or the sound) off, and no harm done. Trouble is, this is Sod’s Law, so of course it rings. Because they don’t really use their phone more than once a month, then they have to go looking for it in order to find it and find the right button to press it.

Then you have the loud iPhone sound that will belong to some (in their own head) super-important person who just cannot miss a call. Never mind the person in the middle of an aria up there, trying to convey deep emotion. This is also the person most likely to actually pick up the phone and go, “Helloooo? I’m at the opera, can I call you back?”

A recent example was when I was in a church listening to a St John Passion. Halfway through an iPhone ringtone that sounded like a fire siren went off, causing everyone to look around to see if we should leave. It stopped, so we stayed put. At the very end, after the soloists were done, the chorus had delivered their final piece, the conductor was pleased and turned around to get his applause – what surfaced in between that and the applause? That’s right. The infamous Nokia ringtone. Dudu-lulu-dudu-lulu-dudu-lululu.

The whole idea of not turning at least the sound of your mobile phone off is rude, selfish and disrespectful to the performers and the rest of the audience. If you can’t live without your phone for three hours, then maybe you shouldn’t be going to the opera at all.

Performers like Kevin Spacey has been known to stop mid-performance if a phone goes off and fire off a comment to the idiot whose phone is ringing. And ringing. And ringing. “Tell them we’re busy!” is one – whereas the threat to throw out the next person with a ringing phone might be more effective.

Bodily functions

I too realise that sometimes you have to sneeze and sometimes your throat tickles so badly you have to cough. I get it. However, does it have to be done so damn loud?

Most people over the age of four can control the volume of their sneezes by putting their face into the fold of their arm. Seriously. There is just no reason to ever go aaaaaaaaatschaaaaaaah!!! in the most quiet, fragile moment of someone’s performance. Show a little bit of finesse. You’re at the opera. People are trying to do their jobs. The audience is trying to get dragged into what those individuals on the stage are doing. You’re not sitting in front of your telly. Worth remembering.

The coughing. It seems to be an overall problem, especially after the first interval. People have had their cigarettes and their wine, and realise fairly quickly their throats are dry. This may sound like an impossible, revolutionary idea, but there’s actually a cure for this. It’s a thing called water. If you drink red wine, your throat gets dry and itchy. It’s just how it is. Water, people. Water.

The last thing is smoking, which is – first of all – bad for you and – second of all – generally disgusting, but if you need to do it, at least bring either mints or a piece of gum back in with you. Sitting next to someone who stinks of nicotine and spends the next 45 minutes coughing in your ear at regular intervals is just… very annoying.

What can I do to be less annoying at the opera?

1. Turn off your mobile phone – or if you don’t know how to do that, leave it at home. You’re not that important.
2. Bring a water bottle into the auditorium – or if you can’t, bring something to soothe the throat, like mints or gum.
3. Think volume if you need to sneeze – use a buffer. An arm works fine. We don’t all need to hear you, there’s enough entertainment on the stage to please us.
4. If you smoke, chew a mint and/or gum before returning to the auditorium because – newsflash – you stink.
5. If you can’t follow these simple rules, rent a DVD and stay at home.

What Jon Vickers thought of coughing in the middle of his aria

I rest my case.

As Rigoletto in Oslo

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ARTIST: Quinn Kelsey

VOICE: Verdi Baritone (lyric)

BORN: 1978 in Hawaii

CURRENTLY IN: “Rigoletto”, Oslo

SPECIAL QUALITIES: A singer with a beautiful voice that can fill a house with sound that pours naturally from his body without any sign of force.

SOUNDCLIPS: www.quinnkelsey.com (personal favourite: Di Provenza)

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Quinn Kelsey; a tower and a half of a man (looks well over 6’5″!) who’s noticeably soft-spoken, sweet-natured, articulate and humble, agreed to meet with yours truly at a bar in Oslo one Thursday afternoon to talk about… opera. To kick it all off: His first “Rigoletto”. Well, the principle role, that is. At the age of 33, he’s obviously already done Montereone in the same opera at the MET in New York. Indeed. I think it’s fair to say that this is a man who’s heading for uncertain heights, especially as he has one of the most beautifully sounding baritone voices I’ve heard live yet.

Rigoletto in Oslo

In 2008 he was in New York making his debut at the MET (read: Metropolitan Opera) as Schaunard in “La Bohéme”, when his agent called and said he said he had an audition coming up for Den Norske Opera. He made sure he had an accompanist, make sure they knew all his music and made sure they had all his music – then he went for the audition in front of the three heads of the company.

I’d just worked with Paul Curran in Chicago the previous year, so when I walked into the audition he already knew me and it was nice to have that connection, which made the audition a whole lot better. “Cortigiani”, the aria from the second act in “Rigoletto” was one of the pieces that I offered, they enjoyed it and a few months later they contacted my manager and wanted to discuss possibilities for doing “Rigoletto” in Oslo in 2011.

It’s definitely one of these roles for a baritone for which a singer has to know when it’s time, because if you sing a role like this too early it can really kill one’s longevity. There are certain roles that I have to wait for, for that reason, and the timing was about right. It feels like it’s time to do it, and I feel like it has been good over the past nine performances.

What do you think of this production?

I like it! A production like this is what they call a period production, in other words it fits the time period for which the story happens. I like that my first “Rigoletto” is a period piece, that it’s not some kinda crazy out of context production, which wouldn’t be a problem but it’s nice to do the first one with these costumes and all the women have the ball gowns. It feels right to do the first one this way, it’s a fun production, we had a long time to work on stage and I’m really quite happy with it. It’s a good start for me in this role.

Norway isn’t exactly known for its mild winters, and for a guy who’s grown up in Hawaii, it must have been quite a shock, surely?

I live in Chicago and it can get quite cold in the winter. The beginning of this year I was in NY and it was quite cold. Both had some crazy blizzard spells at Christmas and over New Year, and it was particularly cold in NY. The funny thing is that I had a wool coat already and bought a heavy-duty parka in preparation for what the weather would be like here, and I have to say that I got off the express train from the airport and started to overheat! I was very happy with the cold, strangely enough it was much more manageable here, as it’s not as invasive. I really enjoyed it actually! There were times when I would take my computer to the balcony, put on my parka, have my pear cider in the snow and sit there for about an hour. I grew up in Hawaii so cold is still very much a novelty to me. I love the idea of sitting out on my balcony and it starts to snow. It’s kinda fun!

As Quinn Kelsey is still a man in his early 30s, it’s a far stretch to have to imagine being a middle-aged man with a rampant teenage daughter who gets involved with the local Don Juan and has her heart-broken. How does he get into the mindset of “Rigoletto”?

It’s not easy. You have to sit down and figure out how you’d feel if you had a child who was wronged in such a serious way. I don’t have any children so I don’t know what it feels like, but I’m trying as hard as possible to feel it as closely as I can. I think of friends’ children, cousins’ babies, but that’s about as far as I can get. In that sense it’s so much harder.

If nothing else, my soprano Eli Kristin [Hanssveen] has really made it so much easier for me to feel that way, because she’s a very passionate human being, we’ve got along quite well and I’ve grown an affection for her that then makes it so much easier for me to access those feelings that I need. When she bursts back on stage with just a shirt on and has that look on her face; she’s scared, startled, nervous, embarrassed and maybe angry too, it then makes it so much easier for me to play off of, because I see all that in her body and in her face. In some small way my heart just drops. She’s helped in many ways she’s probably not even aware of, but that’s the kind of artist she is. I want to protect and take care of her, and then it just works. I think we managed to accomplish the emotions we need to portray.

Quinn on… how fortunate he is to be where he is at such a young age.

Musical background

Borrowed from www.quinnkelsey.com

Quinn comes from a family where everybody sings; his mother was singing in church so he got most of his classical (and sacred) background from her, whereas his father was the lead singer in a highschool band – which got him interested in everything else from rock to pop to folk and everything in between. 

From both of them I’ve absorbed a general appreciation for music. Music was something we did all the time so when opera came along, it didn’t seem that much different. It wasn’t a stretch at all, although we didn’t understand the words it was still notes and music. It wasn’t second nature, but it was very close. We had to learn the different languages, but not having to deal with the music on top of it made it all the easier.

It wasn’t always obvious that he was a baritone, though…

When the voice is young, most times it’s very high. Through puberty the voice will normally drop, so I was a boy soprano until the age of 10 or 11. After that my voice was still quite high, so I was a tenor for the next few years. The only difference for me was that because I’d used my voice so much, the drop wasn’t that intense or drastic. The only thing was that suddenly singing up that high wasn’t as easy anymore, and I asked the director if I could sing lower because that fit better – and my voice dropped far. All the way down to second bass, but by the end of High School it had climbed back up again, making me a bass-baritone. I wasn’t a lyric baritone until about my 3rd or 4th year in college, that’s when it started to settle.

Maybe from 2003-2005 I really solidified myself as a lyric baritone, going in the direction of Verdi baritone singing. The advantage was that I’d been singing as early as I could remember, so it was easier for me to define each of the periods where my voice was changing. So now I consider myself a Verdi baritone, but that I probably have more of an extension on top than most of my counterparts. I can access up to an A-natural, B-flat range. It’s nice to have that little bit extra, some say I’ll be a tenor but I don’t think so because the voice pretty much lies in the baritone range.

Some might think that having a voice like Quinn’s, you must go to a big, fancy school… but no. He didn’t want to leave home yet, so he stayed and went to a normal college in a comfortable environment.

It’s not that I didn’t want to be an opera singer, but I didn’t have the drive that my other peers did. I knew it was something I could do and would work for me but I didn’t have to have it. The year after I started college, I was hired as a soloist at a local church. This suddenly gave me a whole lot of repertoire, and gave the opera company in Hawaii a chance to see what I could do. College worked out well, I didn’t get to go to a big music school but I think I accessed a lot of good education that really helped me to stand up to many of my other peers that did go to the big schools.

Quinn on… his first principle role, as Marcello in “La Bohéme”.

Quinn on… his experience with the Metropolitan Opera.

Who do you look up to?

I don’t have anyone specific. I take a lot of things from a lot of singers, and they’re not all baritones. There were ways that certain female singers sang in long lines with lots of breath, that I really agree with, so I try to do that. There are certain kinds of characterisation that other males have that I like to use too. I like things that Corelli, Pavarotti did and Bastianini did, I’ve had the privilege to work with Sherrill Milnes and I hear in my head all the things he did in his prime. I notice things, like the breath-control Hvorostovsky has, characterisations other baritones I’ve befriended have done, little bits and pieces that singers do that’s not written in the music, things that’s popped out when you’re that engrossed in the character that makes sense. I listen to lot of different singers, and take things I like and I believe it’s helped me to define my own sound. I just take the best from everything I like and put it into one, or at least try, and add my own flavour to it.

Borrowed from www.quinnkelsey.com

Any Wagner in the future, perhaps?

I’d like to! He didn’t write a whole lot for my voice, except roles like Wolfram in “Tannhäuser”, Kurwenal in “Tristan und Isolde” and Amfortas in “Parsifal”. I covered Donner in “Das Rheingold” twice and I really enjoyed it. There’s this quality to Wagner that you just don’t get in other composers. Something that I don’t feel is necessarily lacking in the other composers, but that Wagner just found and put into his writing that I just love. It’s all about the energy that he wrote into certain characters. I just wish there was more for my voice.

Wolfram and Kurwenal I could do now. Amfortas and the Dutchman (in “Der fliegende Holländer”) I need to wait for. If not for the longevity factor, then the idea that if you have a lot of success in certain roles there’s the possibility that people are going to want to hire you for them all the time. The result of that is that they might not hire me for the kind of things I want to sing. For instance, if you do a really good Scarpia (in “Tosca”), then they’ll want to hire you for Scarpia all the time. I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but there’s a possibility of that. I would need to wait for those other roles so that I get to sing all those roles that I should be singing. It’s a sensitive situation.

So in future I would like to sing Wagner, definitely do Scarpia and a lot of Rigoletto.

With a rare voice like yours you’re almost obliged to do Verdi, though.

That’s fine with me! Next year, apart from a Fauré “Requiem” in the spring, it’s all Verdi next year: “Il Trovatore”, “Aida”, “Atilla”, “Simon Boccenegra” and “Rigoletto” at the end of the year.

Bringing more people to the opera

I think it’s necessary! There’s a lot to be learnt from opera. I just think people need to always be aware of how they go about presenting it. A lot of trends nowadays lean against popular music styles and things. I think an appreciation for opera is very valuable. To get an understanding for what came before, the kind of music and art that was really prominent back in those days. It’s valuable for today’s generation, to know where you’ve come from. If nothing else, the one way I like to think about it is that you can have classical training, and if you get the training to sing opera you can sing rock, pop, access all these other genres of music that are more popular now. You see all these singers who don’t have a voice anymore, but you look at opera singers and they’re singing into their 60s and 70s. I think it’s important for the younger generation to be educated about it. It’s what I do, so it’s an art form for which I carry a great deal of pride.

Quinn on… bringing opera to the people (cont’d).

ARTIST: Arturo Chacon-Cruz

VOICE: Tenor (lyric, and spinto)
(but we don’t really mention the latter)

BORN: 1977 in Mexico

CURRENTLY IN: “Rigoletto”, Oslo

SPECIAL QUALITIES: Superb top notes and the ability to learn new repertoire in about two minutes.

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Imagine for a moment that you’re a young opera singer trying to figure out if you’re a baritone or tenor. Easy enough, right? Then imagine that very soon after, you find that you’ve got Plácido Domingo and Ramon Vargas cheering in your corner, as your friends and mentors, mentioning to the biggest opera houses in the world that you’re worth a listen. Too unlikely to even fathom? Well, there’s one tenor who knows exactly what that feels like. Unreal? Maybe. Has it helped? Take a guess. Would it have happened at all unless these two masters knew he was heading for the big stuff? Never.

Placido Domingo’s helping hand

Meet Arturo Chacon-Cruz, a Mexican lyrical tenor who started out as a baritone (and bass) but got a tip from Plácido Domingo himself that “you sound like I did when I started out as a baritone – maybe you’re a tenor too, like me!” Needless to say, such a suggestion is worth considering, and so he did.

I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. I say all the time that I owe him a lot! He not only discovered me, he helped me with a scholarship that I got from a foundation that he supports as well as the Domingo scholarship, so I was able to continue my studies. Otherwise I don’t know if I’d have been able to pursue it further because I was so young and people wouldn’t pay attention to someone who was a baritone who might be a tenor, he laughs.

So yeah, Plácido has been a great influence, not only that way, but he’s influenced me a lot artistically by listening to his recordings, hearing him live, working with him repeatedly on several occasions. The great exposure I’ve had to this titan is amazing. I’ve been onstage with him, done concerts, operas and he’s also conducted me several times.

How did you make the transition from baritone to tenor? How was it, technically?
I did it in a pretty safe way, I think. I was ready to do it on my own, but I got a scholarship for Boston University as a baritone and told them of my intentions to switch to tenor because Plácido had suggested it. They said, “This is the perfect place, because we need a baritone for the first season and if you want to switch then we can use you as a tenor in the following season.” So that’s what I did; I did my first season as a baritone, singing higher baritone roles, and the following season I did tenor roles like “Idomeneo”.

I was in a very secure place, I wasn’t under the same pressure as someone doing their tenor debut at an A-house somewhere, which would have been a lot more stressful and probably would have destructed the process a bit. I was very lucky to find the University there helping me, and from there I jumped straight to San Francisco Opera’s Young Artists’ Programme, “Merola Opera”, and then Houston Grand Opera studio where I was able to sing all the tenor roles. It was very nice. I was 24 when I switched, which was the right time.

Do you know who else switched from baritone to tenor at 24? (Carlos) Bergonzi! Nice coincidence!”

The voice

How would you characterise your voice?
Well, as it is I like to say that it’s a pure lyric. If I say something else, I would get much more offers for stuff that I should be doing in five years. However, there is no hiding it – Plácido himself has told me that I’m going towards a spinto repertoire, but there’s no rush.

As long as I can sing the Duke, I’ll keep singing the Duke. Probably the best advice he gave me was, “Don’t go for the Toscas and Carmens quite yet.” Although I can do them, my voice can do it, but the longer I sing this repertoire my voice will avoid being harmed by the bigger repertoire.

Although I get offers for these bigger roles all the time, I could go another ten years, even twelve, before doing Callaf. I could easily wait until I’m 45. Tosca I’m thinking in the next couple of years, maybe three – but you never know, right?”

It will be interesting to see where you are in 10, 15 years.
Yeah, I wonder about that myself every day! he laughs. Actually I came to the conclusion recently that I used to always think about where I’d end up, when in reality I should be enjoying where I am right now, every role I do, and that’s made my life much calmer. I’m just less frantic about the future when I’m enjoying the present, and that’s very nice. Although I’m away from my family right now, we do two hours on Skype every night and we get to share everything. We’re not sacrificing everything for the job, so although we have to sacrifice a lot we can have a little bit of life still in our life, if that makes sense.

Rigoletto in Oslo

Backtrack one question back to “Rigoletto” – this is where yours truly became aware of Arturo. In Oslo, nonetheless, where he’s up against Hawaiian baritone Quinn Kelsey in the title role. Arturo has, I’d say, an extremely sorted voice for someone his age – probably because it’s always been. The normal “tenor disease” is to virtually have no middle or bottom, whereas they can hold a high note for the best part of half an hour – but this tenor, maybe because he was once a baritone, has everything sorted out. In addition to having some of the most thrilling top notes I’ve heard in a while.

Oslo has been great! We had intense rehearsals when I first got here, and I didn’t get time to do a lot, but it was OK because it was so cold and we had snow up to our elbows. Once performances started the weather was changing and I was able to enjoy it a little bit more, taking walks and stuff. I think this production is great because I get to do a traditional Duke and with the new trends that a lot of opera houses are doing (modern productions) it’s a breath of fresh air to be able to have a traditional one.

Speaking of which, where do you stand on the topic of “Traditional VS Modern” opera?
I’m more traditional. I read something yesterday that storytellers aren’t meant to put ideas into people’s minds; they’re supposed to make them think. So as long as the opera makes somebody think and is somebody’s wicked, twisted idea of “Rigoletto” is imposed on you, telling you how it “should be”, it’s OK. It can be modern as long as it respects the audience’s thoughts and they go home taking some feelings with them. I’m not against true modern, I like modern. Sometimes, he winks.

How do you get into the mind-set of playing someone who’s a love rat with a clear conscience?
(laughing) It was tough! I remember when I was at school – as I said, I started as a baritone and when I was trying to switch to tenor I pulled out the Duke’s arias that tenors sing all the time, and I remember a teacher was saying that, “I don’t think you’ll be able to sing the Duke, you’re too nice.” I’m normally gentle and whatever, but I remember my teacher saying it and I thought, “Well, that’s acting!”

The way to justify the Duke’s behaviour is to think that he doesn’t think he’s doing something wrong. Would you say a bull is mean when it goes for the matador? The Duke… nobody’s told him otherwise, and I think he’s just being who he is. I don’t think he does it out of malice.

I remember reading Pavarotti’s idea of “Rigoletto”, and he said it kept his voice in line. The longer he could sing “Rigoletto”, the longer his voice was going to be well-placed, because if he wasn’t singing the proper way the Duke wouldn’t be possible. I feel the same way, because the moment I have trouble with “Rigoletto” I know I’m doing something wrong, so I need to fix it.

I can sing “La Bohéme” or anything else by Puccini and be a little bit *off* – I don’t mean the sound, I mean technically – and it won’t have a big consequence. The Duke has to be sung properly; otherwise you won’t finish it because it’s so high. At least for me, for a lyric voice.

Who have been your inspirations, apart from Domingo?
I love my teacher, Ramon Vargas; he was a very big inspiration. Also Pavarotti, we listened to a lot of Bjorling, of course, Corelli is one of my top tenors. He’s a big influence, especially the top. I like to listen to how he does it and approaches it, and I’ve learned a lot from just listening to him.

I’ve worked with Galuzin and I’ve heard Giacomini, and I adore their voices, but since my instrument is not the same – I have more of a Spanish instrument like Carreras. I like listening to them but there’s not much I can emulate from them. Whereas from Plácido, Ramon, Bjorling, Corelli I can take a lot from their voices, and I do.

La bohéme – an easy quest

He may do a good Duke, but the opera he’s done the most is “La Bohéme”. Seventeen productions. Keeping in mind he’s only turning 34 later this year, that’s quite a number. It’s his signature piece, but why does he think that is?

I guess a part of what that teacher of mine said a long time ago, that I couldn’t sing the Duke, was probably because I can sing and act Rodolfo easily. It’s close to my own personality and I guess people see that. I’m comfortable in every role now, but people can probably see that it’s a perfect match for my personality and my voice tends to go towards the Puccini way of singing, so I guess it just happened that way.

One has to ask: With such a great instrument at hand, what does he do to keep the voice going?
I do a lot of small exercises, just warm-ups. Everybody does differently, but in my case I need to take care of what I eat because I get a lot of acid reflex, and when I eat heavily my voice gets a little… gravelly. As much as warming up and keeping the voice well warmed up every day, I take care of what I eat and drink and sleep. I try to do my vowels and keep it covered. You know, tenor stuff, he laughs knowingly.

Could learn a new role in three days

In addition to having done seventeen productions of “La Bohéme”, he has a huge repertoire of everything from Pinkerton (“Madama Butterfly”), Rinuccio (“Gianni Schicchi”), Lensky (“Eugene Onegin”), Alfredo (“La Traviata”), Romeo (guess), Faust (guess again), Tamino (“The Magic Flute”) and the list goes on (and on!). So how does he learn these roles – and how long does it take him?

It’s a tricky question because I have photographic memory, so I learn the roles really quickly. That can be either very good or not so good, because your muscles need to adjust and learn how to sing it too. So, I learn roles in a week, maybe two if I decide to take a few days off, but if I have to learn a role for an emergency I can even do it in three days. It’s just luck because I have very good memory for those kinds of things.

What I do is I actually go through the text first several times, I speak through it, and then I do the rhythms and the rest just comes when I hear the music. Of course, if you do a Stravinsky piece or something more challenging it will take longer. Italian, French and German repertoire is easier to learn than Russian and English sometimes, funnily enough.

I have several different coaches depending where I am. I schedule two weeks for learning and I take three hours a week with a coach, so I do six hours all in all. The rest of the time I do it on my own at the piano and listen to my favourite tenors doing the role and see what they do.

Needless to say, you’re very lucky to learn this quickly!
Yes, I know! I just hope my brain keeps up! he laughs heartily, and adds with a grin. “I fear sometimes that you only have a certain amount of brain cells that so many high notes are going to kill!”

Did I mention that he knows a few languages? Italian, French, English, Spanish, German and Greek – only to name a few, I’m sure! Photographic memory clearly helps here too…?

Once you start singing your brain starts making connections from one language to another, so it becomes easier to learn the next one, so that’s helpful. I speak many badly; I don’t speak them that well. For instance, if I’m in France for two weeks I can speak if much, much better. Right now, if I tried to speak French I would sound like Tarzan trying to speak to Jane.

It’s one of those things where practice makes perfect. It’s not difficult to learn operas in different languages, really, especially since the language for opera is very similar. I mean, most French operas use the same vocabulary; it’s very romantic and that’s very easy. In German it’s also very operatic and it’s not very colloquial, so it’s not very hard to learn, I guess.

The road from engineering to opera

In fear of asking the obvious question… how come your choice was opera, as opposed to…
…engineering! I was an engineering major in college when I came in contact with classical music. I almost finished my engineering degree when I met a voice teacher and we started working. Six months later I was convinced to drop engineering first semester and pursue music, but I liked it so much and it went so well that I left engineering altogether and continued with music.

The choice was obvious once I was presented with it. I just couldn’t see myself doing something else because this life, hard as it is and sacrifice oriented as it is, it’s very rewarding. What I do, the music I get to sing. I don’t think I would be happy with another type of job. Or maybe after a few years doing this I would be able to retire and do something else, but as it is right now I can’t see myself doing something else. The choices are nil.

Do you come from a musical background?
Yes, but not professionally. My mother was a pianist and plays guitar and my father plays guitar. They taught me growing up and I was always surrounded by music. My uncle, my mother’s brother, used to be a professional Mariachi singer at a very high level in Mexico. He died very young, but I grew up listening to his records. I won my first singing competition at seven years old, it was Mexican music so nothing classical, but I think Mexican music is much related to operatic music in the way it’s sung.

Do you think this is connected to why there are so many successful opera singers coming out of this part of the world?
Possibly, I think so, and I think we’re not so shy about singing in public because everybody does it, whether you have a good, medium or bad voice doesn’t matter. Everybody sings and nobody’s criticized for it. In Mexico, in a bar like this, someone could break into song like in a movie! he laughs.

That’s normal there! We’re not shy about it, and I think it has a lot to do with the first stages of singing. Many of the students I’ve taught have had problems with stage fright or with shyness of singing in front of someone else.

You’re teaching too?
I’ve taught for fun in Boston and in Mexico, but I don’t do it anymore because I don’t find the time. I could probably see myself heading in that direction. I’ve told my wife sometimes when I see time isn’t moving and I want to visit them, that I’m just going to send my resume to the University and see if they’ll have me, he grins.

I love singing, and a teaching job would just take all of my time now, but one day! Corelli, Gedda, Bergonzi have all done it.

Opera to the people

How could we attract greater masses to the opera?
Very good question! It has to be more accessible. What I said before about stage directors giving the opera its strength of moving people, I’ve never seen a young person who’s gone to the opera for the first time and seen a production of for instance “Madama Butterfly” and don’t leave crying and saying, “Oh my God, I thought opera was boring!”  So exposure is necessary, I think, and at first bring them to the more accessible operas by Puccini or Verdi, things that people would relate to. Of course, not putting on a very psychological or intellectual staging where only avid opera goers would understand.

I think what many opera companies are doing, like the MET doing the live broadcasts, helps – but I think in order to get it, to get people to come back, they need to see it live. It could be to do performances for a big, big audience, outdoors for instance and do it very accessible. Accessible singers too, to look at. I’m not saying they shouldn’t be a little chunky, but sometimes they can be a little on the obese side. These days you see many opera singers taking care of their figures in order to sell to the audience, and I think that’s good for the art form. It needs to survive and we need to do everything you can.

So, do you sing?

(Insert semi-long tirade about the neighbour’s cat fetching a rope to hang itself in the basement once I open my mouth)(No, in other words)

If you had the choice to experience someone live that you haven’t, for obvious reasons, who would it be?
Oooh, my… I’ve heard so much about Del Monaco, so I’ve always wondered because on recordings he sounds very impressive. So I would say Del Monaco and Bjorling. There are so many, a lot of the old ones I’d enjoy. Corelli of course! I think you get the thrill even in recordings with Corelli, that’s the thing.

A father to be

How do you cope being away now that you’re expecting your first baby?
God, it’s so hard, it’s so hard. We talked about it before we even started trying, it’s a part of the job but we’ll make it. Lots of Skype!

Where will you be after the baby is born and you’re back on the road?
I have a week off to be with them, and then I go to Cincinnati to do “Rigoletto” again, back for another five days, then Paris to do “Stabat Mater” and then two months off to be with them. After that I’m off to Munich to do “Hoffmann”. I’ll be busy, but I’ll be bringing them with me.

My wife and I met in school nine years ago and she’s a singer as well, but she decided to stop singing because of our family. She sang a little, and enjoyed it, but now she’s ready to be a mum. It’s hard in a relationship when you’re both singers, especially when you work at the same time, because you never see each other. This way we’ll be able to travel together, at least until he goes to school.

She’s in Montreal at the moment; she’s Greek-Canadian, because as I can’t be with her in Boston she went to her mum in Montreal who’s taking care of her. Thank God! She would kill me if I left her alone right now!

I’m very lucky I guess, to have such good influences in my life, and I’m just here to make the best of everything! he muses and gets ready to go.

Probably to get in another Skype-session with the expecting missus before getting some rest ahead of tomorrow’s 6th “Rigoletto” in Oslo.

The video – “La bohéme – che gelida manina”

Maria Guleghina

I went to see “Tosca” for the second time in my life yesterday, 19th of December 2010, starring Maria Guleghina as Tosca, Miroslav Dvorsky as Cavaradossi, Greer Grimsley as Scarpia and local bass-baritone Yngve A. Søberg as Angelotti.

WHAT HAPPENS?
Written by Giacomo Puccini, based on a French dramatic play “La Tosca”, which it took him about ten years to get the rights to put music to – as someone else had got there before him.

The opera itself is about one jealous diva (Tosca) who basically just wants some time with her man (Cavaradossi), but doesn’t quite like the fact that he’s painting a blonde woman with blue eyes – as Tosca is dark with black eyes. So, clearly, she thinks he’s having an affair with her, although he claims to have just seen this woman pray. In reality, he’s helping said blondie’s brother (Angelotti) to escape from Scarpia, the resident twat caveman bad guy who gets people arrested and hanged for disagreeing with him. Cavaradossi takes Angelotti to his country home, Tosca goes there to break up the party between him and what she thinks is said blondie, and is suddenly in on the plan once she realises what’s actually going on. It’s then up to her to save her man from torture and certain death by giving Scarpia what he wants: Her. A wish he, err, lives to regret.

THE PERFORMANCE ITSELF
On the performers themselves, I actually have quite a bit to say.

The only one involved I’d heard before was Mr Søberg, and as usual he delivers the goods. His role as Angelotti is brief but perfect. Grimsley as Scarpia is also excellent. He’s meant to play a bad-ass and is a bad-ass. In other words, his voice is perfectly suited for the role. I’m also willing to bet on the fact that he’s done quite a bit of Wagner in his career, or at least should.

Now, to Guleghina and Dvorsky. In my opinion, Tosca needs to be a big spinto that can pretty much rip Cavaradossi’s head off just by singing at him – and Cavaradossi needs to be a big lyrical spinto who has the ability to stand up to her, vocally, as well as woo her with a much needed tenderness in his voice. People may disagree with me, but this is how I’d prefer the balance to be.

Guleghina is perfect. People who read this have probably realised that I prefer male voices to female. I don’t know why this is, but that’s how I’m put together. I was (almost) moved to tears by Guleghina twice yesterday, which is something that just doesn’t happen to me with sopranos. Once was during her big aria, “Vissi D’arte” and once at the end when she throws herself into certain death. I won’t say she’s like Maria Callas, but Callas sang with her heart and soul and I think Maria Guleghina does the same. There’s something in her voice that hits me where it hurts, so to speak. She also has a real spinto twang in her voice that doesn’t make it hard to believe that she’s capable of murder.

Dvorsky. I don’t really like writing critiques about performers, but in this case I really can’t help myself. I thought Dvorsky as Cavaradossi was weak at best. He cracked on top notes at least twice, and just sounded a bit… off. I haven’t heard him live before, so maybe he was having a bad day. However, the sheer size of his voice just wasn’t adequate enough next to Guleghina. On the 2nd balcony, we heard her better when she was singing off-stage than we heard him when he was on it. Two of my favourite tenor arias are in this opera (“Recondita Armonia” and “E lucevan le stelle”), and Dvorsky’s attempt at both were disappointing at best. To me, he was just a small voice trying to sound big, and instead of smoothly delivering “Recondita Armonia”, he was just shouting his way through it. Like a Fiat thinking it’s a Rolls Royce. Sadly.

SO…?
Overall, it has to be said that I loved it. I’ll even forgive Dvorsky for being a bit disappointing, mainly because Guleghina, Grimsley and Søberg made up for it. Guleghina was the star, as she should be in this opera, and if I was in the country on the 28th and 30th of December, I’d go see it again. Quite possibly both days. 

Christian Gerhaher

Well, I think it’s fair to say that a Wagner opera never lasts an hour and a half. Especially not when the first act lasts 73 minutes. So, yesterday I went to see the preview of Tannhäuser at the Royal Opera House, starring Johan Botha as the title character, Michaela Schuster as Venus, Christian Gerhaher as Wolfram von Eschinbach (now that’s a mouthful!) and Eva-Maria Westbroek as Elisabeth – amongst others.

WHAT HAPPENS?
Act One starts at the Venusberg. Yes, the Venusberg. Poor Tannhäuser has been held captive (yeah right, probably against his will too…) because he – unlike most men – enjoys sex, passion, love etc, and he gets his kicks from Venus herself. After we’ve witnessed a mini-orgy involving a dozen dancers of both sexes frolicking on the stage, he realises that he misses his former, grim life, and upsets Venus by letting her know she’s not enough for him. Ouch.

Once he’s broken away from the Venusberg, he meets his old chums Wolfram, Walther, Biterolf, Reinmar and Heinrich (if you didn’t realise we’re dealing with a German opera before, you do now) who welcome the young singer back. He originally fled to begin with because he was shamefully bested in the prize-singing contest where he was a bit more, say, explicit about love than what was considered good manners.

He initially refuses to join them back, but changes his mind when he realises Elisabeth actually quite fancied what he had sung about. She’s delighted to see him, and puts on another singing contest, where he confesses he’s been to the Venusberg which leaves everyone in horror. After being saved by Elisabeth from certain death, he’s shipped off to Rome to see the Pope to ask for forgiveness and redemption. Elisabeth is left to wait for him and the big question is: Will be come back a pure, forgiven man…?

THE SET & THE PERFORMANCE ITSELF
I won’t give away too much, other than saying that the set is minimalistic, which I quite enjoyed, as it kept the focus on what was going on. Out of the main performers, the voice that made me go “oh, hello!!” was that of Christian Gerhaher, whom I’d not heard of until then. Johan Botha has a very nice voice indeed (clearly made for Wagner!) and has vocal moments that make your jaw drop – yet, I don’t feel particularly moved by it. That’s just down to personal taste, though, and for me Gerhaher just had something extra, and probably is one of the most beautiful (light) baritones I’ve heard.

The chorus was stunning in this performance. The first time the male chorus was heard backstage, I woke up from my slight daze. In the second act, when they entered the stage as guards and audience for the singing contest, I had another “oh hello!!” moment. There’s something really satisfying about hearing a 50-strong male chorus giving it all. When they entered as Pilgrims again in act three, I was thoroughly moved. The way it builds up and up until every hair on the back of your neck stands up is just phenomenal. At the end when the children’s chorus as well as the full chorus perform together is also a stunning experience.

Pilgrim’s Chorus

SO…?
Well, it has to be said, a combination of Wagner and soft porn before noon was an interesting experience.

I’m the first to admit that entering a performance at 10:45 and exiting the same performance at 15:15 is a long stretch on a cold Wednesday in December. Also, considering this is Wagner, it’s not filled with those arias that make you go “Oh yes, I remember that one [from YouTube]” – and you pretty much know it won’t be all smiles and lollipops at the end.

I did drift in and out of consciousness at times, but there were also times when I got goosebumps. Mainly when the full chorus did their thing, as well as when Christian Gerhaher opened his mouth – though Johan Botha had moments when I gawked too. He particularly gave a star performance in the third act. The Venusberg-dancers weren’t perfectly coordinated all the way through, but then again, it was only a preview.

Due to lack of time, this blog (probably) won’t be updated again until January 2011 – although perhaps with a little mention of “Tannhauser” at ROH and “Tosca” in Norway

Happy Christmas & Happy New Year!

Rather than finding the ultimate Figaro, I believe I’ve found the ultimate “Votre toast” from “Carmen”. This is a song that goes all the way down – then all the way up. Finding a bass-baritone who can do both well isn’t something you do every day.

Part of his rep includes various roles in “Don Giovanni”, “Marriage of Figaro”, “La Bohéme”, “Cosi fan tutte”, “Barber of Seville”, “Carmen” and “Il Trovatore”, and he’s performed at the Met in NY, ROH in Covent Garden, Opéra Nationale in Paris, Staatsoper in Vienna and so forth. I’m not a particularly huge fan of either Bizet or “Carmen”, but if he showed up doing it, I’d go in a flash.

Listen for yourself: (notice the horse on the stage – very well trained, probably wearing earplugs and thinking “what the…!?”)

Ildebrando d’Arcangelo – Votre toast (Carmen)

Gutierrez is from Columbia but moved to Vienna in 1991 and has performed pretty much *everywhere* since: Austria, Spain, Norway, France, Italy, Germany, Bulgaria, Russia, Japan, Switzerland, North- and South-America as well as Turkey – to mention a few.

I think he has some of the same laser beam qualities that Nicolai Gedda has – only a bit heaver, from what I can gather based on recordings alone. They both have quite an exciting top end, I think. I don’t have an educated ear as such, but I think Gedda must be a lyrical spinto and I can’t imagine Gutierrez being different, as there are definitely spinto qualities in his voice. In other words, another one who could rip your head off

Listen for yourself:

Cesar Gutierrez – Che Gelida Manina

As far as “Tosca” is concerned, when you know the piece well and you love certain songs, hearing a bad translation from Italian to English that makes it sound more cheesy than a Pop Idol audition, doesn’t do much for me.

For instance, take “E lucevan le stelle”:
“Svanì per sempre il sogno mio d’amore. L’ora è fuggita, e muoio disperato! E non ho amato mai tanto la vita!” somehow sunds a lot more genuinely romantic than, “Now, my dream of love has vanished forever. My last hour has flown, and I die, hopeless! And never have I loved life more!”

Same goes for “Recondita Armonia”:
“Ma nel ritrar costei, il mio solo pensiero, il mio sol pensier sei tu, Tosca, sei tu!” VS “But while I’m painting her, my only thought, my only thought is of you, Tosca, it is of you!”

When I saw “Faust” I found The Devil quite entertaining, because he didn’t do any cheese. I didn’t know the piece or the music before going in, and all I knew at the end of it was that I wanted Satan to just get rid of both of them. I also sat in a place where I couldn’t avoid seeing the words above the stage but made a conscious decision to just listen and pretend it wasn’t happening in English in the end. The Devil had the best voice of the lot too, it has to be said, so I enjoyed him. English or not.

It isn’t just in the house that I prefer the original language. I love Mario Lanza, who did a lot of recordings in English. Yet, the only two songs I can bring myself to listen to in English is “You’ll never walk alone” and “Danny boy” – everything else so easily becomes too cheesy. I cringe. Especially when most of them come with a mock-Italian accent. Even “Because”, which was originally in – I believe – French, I can’t stand.

This is one way of commercializing opera that’s just not for me. I think that you don’t necessarily need to understand every word. If the performers are good enough, their voices and acting alone will convert the message of the piece. For probably ten years I had no idea what the aria from “I Pagliacci” meant, but I loved it.

I still have no idea about the lyrics to most of the arias I love, but having seen them in context in an opera, I feel I know what I need to know without getting a literal translation.