Is this a chamber orchestra which I see before me?

It's been a couple of days since term finished. I'm now back home in Poland and my body has decided some rest is long overdue, and has basically shut down. I'm not really surprised, I've felt some form of crash coming for a couple of weeks now, and I'm just glad I made it to the end of my singing commitments in fair shape.

One of these commitments, one in particular was a challenge, albeit an exciting one. Last Friday I sang in the RWCMD's Opera Gala with the college orchestra. It has to be said, this is probably a form of performing that I am the least used to: static concert with orchestra. It presents a unique set of problems, some of which I was ready for and some of which threw me in the first days of rehearsals.

First of all, the orchestra is behind you, in close proximity. The last time I dealt with a situation like that was performing in the Gate with Opera'r Ddraig and (to a lesser degree due to the size of the ensemble) also with the Rogue Opera Company. However there we had a fairly large stage space all to ourselves as the singers, and a set to navigate, and if anything it was difficult to hear the orchestra in places. With a pit orchestra, being onstage you usually hear very little of the orchestra, and that creates its own set of problems, especially with keeping time. In the college concert hall on the other hand, the sound from the not-so-chamber* orchestra was always close, and always on the edge of being overpowering (I'm speaking of my feeling onstage, not the received balance in the auditorium). That coupled with the acoustic of the hall (which I know to be excellent as far as the audience is concerned, but tricky for myself as a performer) meant that especially during first rehearsals of pieces, where the orchestra were reading the music, and sorting out balance seemed an unattainable dream, I was standing there, singing, but not getting anything back from the hall, hearing nothing but the orchestra. It's difficult to resist the temptation to try and 'give more' in that situation, but we have to, because let's face it: in a loudness war against 40 players, we don't stand a chance. So the only recourse is to stick to what worked in the piano rehearsals and trust that the conductor will sort out the balance somewhere down the line.

RWCMD Chamber Orchestra, conducted by David Jones, rehearsing excerpts from Don Giovanni with Dorothea Herbert and Will Helliwell

The next awkward difficulty was with how static the performance had to be due to the limited ammount of space and also the necessity to constantly sing straight out. For someone who is used to a certain degree of 'acting' even in recital settings, this was a new-ish experience. After all, it's difficult to not let the music and text move you, or in a way even take over your body, and we all want to show that we're not just voices, but it's necessary to find a way to feed that into the confines of a concert performance.

Then we move on to the standard difficulty of moving from working with piano to getting used to the orchestral sound. This has a new dimension because of the proximity I mentioned before. On top the usual issues of lacking the piano's percussive element and the difference in texture, depending on where you stand, you lose half of what's going on. Standing by the first violins for the entire concert, I must admit I missed the cellos and double bass, especially as normally they would be my first point of reference as a baritone.

I guess the only advice that works when shifting to a new sound world is to stick to what you know and get on with it, trusting that those responsible for the big picture will get it right. Thankfully this concert was a success and the experience of working on it was a valuable one. I hope the orchestra enjoyed it as well, I know accompanying is not their favourite job. Not only is it seemingly less rewarding than other types of repertoire, but it's also incredibly difficult, and I have to say I was amazed at how well the players handled it. From my point of view, an orchestra accompanies much less than the piano. Because of the colour, richness, and (let's face it) volume, it feels more like they 'lift' the entire piece, with the voices just sitting lightly on top and being a bit of a finishing touch (soundwise, though we also have the text and story). I personally felt much more like a part of a bigger picture than like a soloist.

I apologise to any singers among my readers, this must all seem like I'm stating the obvious, but in case you hadn't noticed, that's what this blog is mostly about. Besides, it's good to remind oneself of the obvious every now and again.

* With regards to the size of the orchestra in relation to the form of the concert, a friend of mine upon walking into the hall to sit in on a rehearsal said: 'Holy <expletive>!'

Auditions - a rant

It's been a busy term in college. Not only the standard workload of classes, ensembles to learn and assessments to complete, but several additional projects: Orpheus in the Underworld, concerts, collaborations with composers, managing Opera'r Ddraig's finances... but despite all that going on, what defined the term for me were the auditions. It seemed relentless, there always being an audition on the horizon, but now that I look back, I realise there were only 4 of them! Still, spaced out every 2 weeks or so, it was a pretty full-on 2 months worth.

I have to say, while they are in no way a pleasant experience, I do feel I'm doing better at them than last year (regardless of the outcomes - I'm still waiting for responses from all of them). I suppose it's mainly down to 3 things. Firstly, for the first time in my life I feel reasonably secure in my technique. There's plenty to improve, but at least these days it's consistent. Secondly, I have found much better audition repertoire for myself since I 'discovered' the top of my voice. Last year I was auditioning for opera courses with arias I had been singing for years, back when a top G was a feat (and not a guaranteed one at that!). I sang them fine, but they didn't show off any of the aspects of my voice that could be considered 'selling-points'. I couldn't have honestly said that I felt I sang them better than anyone else in at least some way (and if you don't feel you're bringing something exceptional to the table, then I'm pretty sure the panel won't feel it either). Finally, the amount of experience I've accumulated this past year (and let's face it, it's been a busy one: 6 operas, with substantial roles in 3 of them; first professional engagement with an opera company; vocal boot camp in the Rockies...) has significantly changed my outlook on the whole thing. I know I'm unlikely to succeed in any given audition, but I'm also able to think that I'm good enough to stand a fighting chance, and not to let the hopelessness of this profession get me down.

Why is it hopeless? I suppose that is putting it a bit harshly. It's just hard. These past months have given me a glimpse of the future, the dreaded 'year of fear', out of college, looking for work, living from audition to audition, probably working part-time to get the money for train fares... Then what is an audition? It's a day of stress, travel, preparation, all for a 5-15 minute window of opportunity. Before you get that opportunity however, you sit (or pace) in the waiting-room, surrounded by countless other singers, some of whom will (probably unknowingly) say things that intimidate or put you off. That is if there is even a waiting-room! I recently did an audition where there was only a freezing corridor. Then you enter a room, and your first glimpse of it is always a surprise. It's never what you expect it to be (listening through the door to the 3 or 4 singers before you, all of whom are of course amazing!), and neither is the panel. Even though they spent 10 minutes chatting to the person before you, they barely give you a single glance. Or maybe they're so far away you can't make out their faces. Or maybe they're so friendly you're taken aback. Hopefully you've had some time for a chat with the accompanist about tempi, odd corners, etc, but it's only now that you'll hear him play your intro (always a scary moment, especially if it goes horribly wrong). Fingers crossed that you won't be constantly worrying about the piano. The singing bit is the easiest part, it always seems to be just a bit worse than in practice, which is fine. Then a short chat with the panel, hoping they won't ask off-putting questions like 'So what are you doing about the middle of your voice?' (and I thought I had sung quite well at that one!). Or perhaps no chat, just a 'Thank you, bye!' (what did I do wrong?). Then back on the Tube, train, hours to run the whole thing back in your mind (even though it all goes fuzzy the moment you step out of the audition room) and try and think why the panel behaved the way they did and what to change for the next audition.

And how many of these will it take before you get a break? How much will you end up spending on travel? How much is the stress going to ruin your health? Why are you even doing this in the first place?

Well, the answer to that is: Because once you start rehearsing, you will be reminded that this is the best job in the world, and when you step onto the stage, it just gets better!

Dare to do more! - Natalie Dessay

We'd known since last year that she was coming, but it seemed too good to be true. Even as plans changed at the last minute I found myself worrying that it might not actually happen... but it did! Today we were visited by Natalie Dessay, who spent half a day working with our sopranos (and Joe). Originally we were all to have had the chance to sing to her, however circumstances forced her to shorten her visit, which was a shame, but still, we got a rare opportunity handed to us!

She insisted that the class be closed and straight away said she was probably more nervous than we were. All nerves were soon forgotten once she started working with our girls though. I'm not going to write a long spiel about what an incredible person she is, but I will confess to being surprised at how friendly, down-to-earth, genuine, unassuming and warm she was. Watching her work just put a smile on my face, and the fact that every now and again we were treated to her singing was an added bonus! In fact, everyone left the room with huge grins on their faces :) (or should I say: :D )

I could go on about how amazing it all was, but I don't want to come over as star-struck (even though I admit I actually am!). I'd rather post some quotes from her that I jotted down during the class. Perhaps some of you will find them helpful / insightful or funny, I will personally probably find myself revisiting this post to refresh my memory of a great day.

The one thing that she said to almost everybody, referring to many different aspects of performance, was this: Dare to do more! (Dare to be pianississimo; Dare to move; Dare to do it faster; Dare to take more time; Dare to use more ornamentation; etc) I think that sums up what I felt her approach is all about: never holding back anything, infusing every word, every note with intention and energy, heightening every contrast to the extreme, etc. Cliches? Perhaps, but hey!, if it works, it works.

Quotes:

Accompany yourself with your body! - on posture/stillness, not getting stuck and allowing your body freedom to move

You can't think and plan to the end, because you're not supposed to know what you're going to say. - on recit

If you have an aria on 1 idea, you have to work harder to add contrast to keep the audience surprised.

It's easier to sing if you're in control of the orchestra, than when being controlled by the orchestra. - on daring to 'drive' the piece rather than sit in the back seat

Using vibrato protects the voice. - on vocal hygiene, she also was an advocate of as round a sound as possible without losing clarity of text

If you want us to follow the text, you have to build it for us by using the punctuation.

Coloratura is not a question of voice, it's a question of articulation and precision.

In French music almost NEVER portamento. And even when it's written... think again!

Dare to go as far as possible with interpretation, even if you don't keep it when you go to perform. - on daring to deliberately sing flat and 'ugly', or just to not sing on ahs and ohs

Because you're able to do it so fast... maybe a bit faster? - on coloratura

Dare to add everything you want... but in style! - on ornamentation

Do you have a cadenza for this? (...) I don't like it, it's too simple.

Invent something that I wouldn't invent myself. - again on ornamentation, which allows you to show your personality and imagination

What is better for your voice, to go up, or to go down? Up? Well then go up! - on cadenzas

And finally our favourite quote, when working on Manon's aria Adieu, notre petite table:

I know it's written forte, but I think that's stupid. I called Massenet on the phone and told him it can't be like that.

The best thing about today was that everyone enjoyed it, including Natalie Dessay. In fact, there's another quote: Now that I see you are good, I will come back, which was a joke of course, but she mentioned returning a couple of times, so fingers crossed!

Photos by Kiran Ridley

New music adrenaline

I recently took part in a concert showcasing compositions by students from my college's Contemporary Music Department. The concert itself was by all accounts a great success: packed audience, satisfied composers and a jolly time in the bar afterwards. What I would like to focus on, however, is the atmosphere in the Green Room.

It's a funny thing, performing new works. It's only when I do it, that I come to realise how I've come to rely on what I'll call (probably inappropriately) 'stylistic context'. What I mean by that is everything that tells us what the music on the page is supposed to sound like, but isn't actually in print. And rest assured, I'm not talking about in depth research, as that's something I just don't do, as it's just not a workable approach for me (for various reasons, not just laziness). It is amazing how much information we acquire through osmosis, though, simply from exposure to recordings, performances, conversations with colleagues, interesting facts imparted by conductors, or their personal theories forced on us in rehearsals. Thanks to that, I have an idea of what Mozart should sound like, what constitutes romantic music and what approach to use when singing in that style, etc.

When faced with a brand new piece freshly printed off by my dear composer friend, I have no idea what I'm aiming for. This time I was fortunate enough to have said friend on hand to help me learn his piece, and also to play in it. Even so, our work was focussed on 'what' to sing, rather than 'how' (and I don't mean technique). The lack of 'stylistic context' made me feel incredibly unsettled, to the point when even after singing the right notes, I would stop and apologise for making a mistake. And even though the composer obviously must have a vision of how his music is meant to sound, some of my actual mistakes went unchecked, even up to and including the performance (I'm sure I constantly sang an F# rather than F in the climactic phrase, which I only realised later, while the composer was fine with it all through rehearsals). Maybe my interpretation was just that convincing? (doubtful)

How does this have anything to do with the Green Room? Well, I thought my unease in singing contemporary repertoire stemmed from me being A) not a very good sight-reader, B) used to learning things off copy over a longer period of rehearsing (I learnt said 6 minute piece in 2 days, which is pretty quickly by my standards), and C) not having much experience in performing new music. It turns out that it's more common than I thought, even amongst instrumentalists. All the acts returning to the Green Room had comments like 'we almost lost it' or 'I have no idea if that was right'. There were also a fair few stories about concerts and recordings of works whose composer later congratulated performers for conveying his thoughts perfectly... yet half the music did not match what was on the page. British über-politeness, or lack of 'stylistic context'?

I will admit that I find that unsettled feeling I mentioned rather thrilling. Yes, it's stressful, but also exciting! And in the end, if the composer misses mistakes, then the audience have no chance at all of hearing them. All you have to do is your best, and if anything goes wrong... it was deliberate!

I was once told by a conductor: 'it sounds great, and although it's actually wrong, it would only be a problem if the composer was conducting you'. He also happened to be the composer ;)

Unexpected awe

There had been some buzz around college about Music Theatre Wales' touring production of Mark-Anthony Turnage's first opera Greek, with posters visible on notice boards and a workshop for vocal studies students organised and led by the cast and creative team of the show. Not being a fan of contemporary opera myself, I wasn't planning on going to see the performance in Newport until Joe (counter-tenor in my year) convinced me to give it a chance. Worst case scenario: I'd enjoy two drives, dinner and an interval in good company and endure 90 minutes of contemporary opera. The company was indeed good, as for the opera...

I am lost for words. It was possibly the most enthralling piece of theatre I have ever seen. A minimal production, relying on the acting abilities of the cast of four singers to convey the transposition of the Oedipus myth into cockney London. The strength of the acting was key, as the show strikes a balance between 'sung' operatic passages and what is best described as 'accompanied straight theatre'. For the most part the transitions are seamless and greatly enhance the dramatic impact of what we see on stage. I wouldn't describe the music as easy, but through the use of clear motifs and flirting with popular musical styles, it is accessible enough to allow even a skeptical listener to enter the sonic world of the piece fairly easily and focus on the drama, which the music accentuates and helps develop.

One of the most striking scenes was the riot, in which the orchestra abandoned their instruments for shields (which they proceeded to bang) and acted as a chorus of protesters, shouting at the audience, while the cast armed with megaphones delivered slogans to rile everyone up. The second powerful scene was when Eddy realizes the curse has come true, goes through an a capella mental breakdown, then proceeds to gouge his eyes out. I have to say at this point, that while the cast and players were all excellent, Marcus Farnsworth stole the show for me as Eddy (and I'm not just saying that because of baritone loyalty).

It's not easy to take an established myth and present it in a fresh and engaging way. Greek does it successfully. Even though we know what's coming, the way it is set to music, the modern spin on the language, the powerful performances from the singer-actors, all make it a completely fresh experience, and let's be honest, it's not a particularly pleasant one. The impact is a lasting one, though. No wonder the show won the Outstanding Achievement in Opera award at the 2011 UK Theatre Awards.

My voice sounds tired? How very dare you!

It's been a long week. Circumstances are such that not only am I getting on with my set work for college, but also taking part in the 2nd year's end of term concerts, which means working in their sessions as well as my own year's. All that plus a singing lesson and 2 coachings working on very challenging repertoire... And on Friday I was told that my voice sounds tired! No wonder. That did not stop me from heading off to coaching after hearing said line and working on what I jokingly call 'the unsingable song', namely Mahler's Ging heut Morgen übers Feld with its ppp top notes and other assorted technical difficulties. The coaching was fine and the song isn't as unsingable as I had feared, even with tired voice.

I have never been good at what singers call 'marking'. I would never attempt to sing my way through a rehearsal in 'half voice', as my current theory is that doing that badly would tire my voice out much more than singing properly at (almost) full pelt. As for 'popping it down an octave', well, I can see some sense in that, however only with music that I know is absolutely dialled into my voice and body. At this stage in a singer's career this is hardly ever the case, as most of what I perform is repertoire new to me, and even if it's revisiting roles or pieces I've done before, my voice and technique change so rapidly that it is often a case of relearning to sing old pieces with a new voice. Maybe I'm too hung up on 'singing it in' and have a tendency to overwork my voice? Then again I never practice hard passages to self-destruction, sing scales until I crack or warm-up to within an inch of losing my voice (common 'rookie errors' among young singers). I also learn music silently or falsetto, working out a game plan for singing it before properly opening my mouth. The 'singing in' and practice come when I'm sure I know what I'm doing and the aim of the game is to cement consistency. Once I have consistency, why risk unbalancing it by trying to mark my way through?

I may be wrong, and even if I'm not, this is probably an approach that won't work for everyone. Tiredness happens, especially when like this week, we have to sing a lot and want to give it a 100% because we're working with a visiting tutor and want to make the most of it. Singing when I'm tired makes me all the more focused and pushing myself is what stretches my stamina. Of course, if I felt I was in danger of hurting myself, I'd just stop singing or do the 'octave down' thing, but as a last resort rather than default practice.

I say all this, but probably only because I can look forward to a weekend of silence, so please disregard the above and treat it as a snapshot of my thoughts after this week only. Perhaps next time I'm in a long production period I will turn to marking and report on here for comparison.

Disclaimer: The author is not a singing teacher or established professional, but in fact just a student and probably has no idea what he's talking about, so don't try this at home!

What is it about song...?

Just to air my brain out after last night's song recital with my year group in college, I thought I'd jot down some thoughts I had on the differences between performing lieder and opera.

I don't get to perform songs as much as I'd like to, especially the more intense ones, in a proper lieder recital setting. Yesterday's affair wasn't in fact that kind of setting, as it was in the RWCMD Foyer, a fairly traffic-heavy venue. It's amazing, however, how a performance of intimate songs can transform such a busy space into an oasis of calm for an hour, especially as some of the audience were just passing through and actually stopped to listen.

I think that's the magic of lieder: they draw the audience in, rather than emote in an over the top way, as opera (arguably) does. An aria tends to impress more than move people. Performing song therefore feels completely different to me, than performing opera. In fact, while I do enjoy concerts of operatic excerpts with piano, compared with a recital it feels like an incomplete art form. One can (and should always aim to) perform a song to its full potential in a recital, whereas opera without production values and an orchestra will only ever be a pale facsimile.

Singing songs, I also feel much more exposed and vulnerable. The relationship between singer and pianist has to be that of shared thought, emotion and musicality, and the slightest disagreement instantly comes across and kicks us back into the real world. But if it works, the feeling is almost like creating a new reality, conveying the full impact of a feeling or significant moment. The actual performance space melts away, and all that's left is a feeling that the audience have been invited to inhabit the performers' shared mind. Looking across the audience after my colleagues finished their songs, I could see many glazed looks, but not out of disinterest, but from pure focus.

It was a fantastic evening, a joy to perform and then listen to everyone else. I must also say that it felt great to present the audience with Polish repertoire and see that Karłowicz and Paderewski could give the likes Wolf or Tchaikovsky a run for their money.

Also, I can't wait to do Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen with orchestra in May!

Where is the bile in classical music?

OK, so this is not a singing-related post, but these thoughts do (I think) inform me as an artist...

A friend told me recently that as said artists we should expose ourselves to as diverse a spectrum of art as we can. In fact, it's a line I hear a lot, but I'm afraid that what with my workload, I tend to revert to my tried and tested musical, theatrical and cinematographic tastes when I do have the time to relax. Luckily (or unluckily?) these are pretty far removed from opera, or in fact classical music in general. The music I listen to, specifically, helps me relax, clear my mind, or process my thoughts and feelings in a way that I can't seem to achieve with classical music. I need lyrics, but when listening to vocal music performed by classically trained singers, I tend to analyse more than listen. So for myself, my choice of listening music works well.

I recently had the rare chance of seeing one of my favourite bands perform live. This allowed me to see how they affect not just me, but other people. Also, a live performance carries a different impact. I know who's playing, but at a rock concert I don't know what they will perform, how I will react to the song choices, how the energy in the hall will flow...

Listening to New Model Army perform, seeing them sweep up the crowd with their fire and passion (impressive, with the band being in its 31st year of existence), I got to thinking about what emotions and experiences this music taps into, to move all these people, myself included, to a state of euphoria that at times borders on frenzy. And how does that relate to what I do? Will I ever reach an audience on that level, or is the music I perform too far removed, too irrelevant to pluck that string in a listener's mind or heart?

NMA's music draws on some very powerful emotions, with the lyrics quite often bordering on poetry (or at least that's what I like to fool myself into thinking). Disillusion, frustration, a sense of loss, futility, anger, resentment... and yet throughout all this negativity, a constant thread of appreciation and marvel at the beauty of life. Bilious music, often yes, but very human, and therefore moving and strengthening.

What emotions does opera tap into? Is there anything in operatic or song repertoire that draws on similar themes? What are the angry operas? The songs of revolution? The classical music of outrage? Or is it that through the sheer complication of form that composers cannot hope to reach those layers of people's minds in the same way as a self-taught musician from Bradford?

Banff OAT 2012

The Banff Centre's Opera as Theatre program information has been announced, and singers can now apply.

The repertoire choices for next year look very interesting: Mozart's Don Giovanni and The Secret Garden by Stephen McNeff. Glancing at the information provided on the Banff Centre's website, I can already see some changes from last year:

- the two productions will not share the same stage, but be in separate theatres

- the role of the chorus seems to be reduced to singing in just Don Giovanni, which is not a huge chorus part, as opposed to last year's Lillian Alling in which the chorus got to perform some very exciting scenes, and played a big part in the overall drama of the piece

The implication seems to be that roles will be single-cast (otherwise why the need for understudies?), which is a continuation from this year, although hopefully will be implemented differently, drawing from our experiences and feedback (for those new to my blog, a pretty much full account of OAT 2011 can be found in my posts from July and August, with a summing up here).

All in all I'd say it's an exciting choice of repertoire, and I'm adding this one to my list of places to audition for Summer 2012...

Link to the OAT 2012 website (with audition dates, application forms, etc): here

'Me? My name's Aristaeus, a humble personal trainer...'

Calls had been coming in over the last couple of days, warning me that it was more than likely I would be going on in the near future. I suppose I'm rather thankful for these calls, for although they did give a rather stressful quality to the end of the college week, at least I had the opportunity to make sure I was as prepared as I could be, should the summons to perform come. It did come, on Friday evening, with the show being the next day in Linlithgow. I got sent details of my flight from Bristol, booked my train and bus tickets for the morning, and set about stressing myself within inches of a nervous breakdown. This anxiety-fest was rudely interrupted by a visit from my former flatmate, who was visiting Cardiff and popped in for a catch-up. I was very thankful for the distraction, and after driving her home I somehow managed to fall asleep reasonably early.

Saturday, October 1st

I wake up at 6am, half an hour before I'd set my alarm to wake me. On the journey I decide to keep myself distracted rather than obsessively run my lines over and over. I rationalize this by telling myself that overdoing it might just fool me into thinking I don't know the lines and need even more time to prepare. Instead I'd rather assume that I'm secure, and any misgivings I may have are related to normal stress, rather than lack of preparation.

I am picked up at the airport by the company manager, and we drive to pick up the assistant director, buy some lunch and then we're off to Linlithgow. After settling into the venue, grabbing a much needed coffee, myself and the director set about going through my scenes at about 2pm. A couple of notes, a change or two, but we get through it in good time, and by 3.30 I'm released for lunch before the rest of the cast arrive at 4.30. We then all do a dialogue run, which the principals whizz through (in a double speed fast forwarded cassette tape fashion) only slowing down to do my bits at normal speed. They have good fun with it too, trying to trip each other up, taking advantage of the rehearsal being in a music room (the more obvious puns accented by a ba-dum-dum-tshhhh on the drum kit) and the jovial atmosphere helps me loosen up a bit.

At this point I have to say how grateful I am to the cast and crew for being marvelously supportive and helpful. I instantly felt I was part of the team and that the team was there to catch me should I stumble, but on the other hand had a lot of faith in me as well. Thankfully the dialogue run and short onstage rehearsal (dances, choreographed scenes and those with technical issues) go well and while not being overly confident I felt sure that although I may not give the performance of my life, I won't be an obstacle for the others and won't derail the show. I should also mention that I got heaps of support by way of email, facebook and text messages, all of which made me feel better about the whole thing, thank you all!

We wrap up rehearsal at 6.30 and the cast relax around the buffet that has been provided. I can't bear the sight of food, so focus on doing my pre-show pacing routine. Having been on my feet for over 12 hours I can feel the tiredness creeping in behind my eyes, but the mounting adrenaline is enough to keep it at bay, and come showtime I'm sure to be buzzing with excitement. Strangely, the director seems more confident than I do, and she decides to watch the show from the audience, rather than stay in the wings to be ready to prompt me, should I freeze. Oh well, I guess I have no choice but to be perfect...

Perfection is not achieved, of course, but the show goes well, with only one moment of slowing down to remember the opening lines of my monologue and one near-trip-up backing up upstage and forgetting there's a step there. These moments may stick out in my mind as MISTAKES, but as is often the case, they probably didn't read half as strongly as I fear they did. I also need to rethink my hydration strategy before my first scene, as I was not quite prepared for the heat and dryness onstage, which is not a worry one wants to be dealing with in an aria. Oh well, I'll know next time.

In the end it was great fun!

Also, I had let a couple of friends from Edinburgh know I was performing and they managed to make it, so it was lovely to get to chat to them after the show. Once they left, however, tiredness hit me like a sledgehammer. I tried hard to keep myself going at the post-show reception (wine helped) and the bus journey to Glasgow (beer just made me more tired), and after checking in to my hotel room and having a shower I was almost dead. I was however dying to tell someone about the day, and once I finally got the chance, recounting all the excitement over Skype just got me buzzing again, so it took me another hour or so to wind down. All in all, a 20-hour day, tiring, stressful, but exciting and rewarding. It is a shame about the circumstances which led to me performing (and I deliberately leave these out), but such is the job, and it's one I probably couldn't do if I wasn't excited and happy to be given the chance to perform...

Sunday, October 2nd

The day off. I'm informed I will be needed until Tuesday morning, with the decision about the show on Tuesday night still being contemplated by management. I meet up with Catriona to have a catch-up and yet again reminisce about Banff (one thing we both agree on, after the Opera as Theatre schedules, college, or any production schedules are going to feel like a walk in the park).

I then try and learn some new music for college, but my brain refuses to cooperate. My body also makes it clear that it would rather nap than look at music. In all fairness, I probably deserve to take it easy after yesterday, so I relax into a lazy day of window shopping, good food and crappy films on demand in my hotel room.

By the way, for anyone visiting Glasgow, I highly recommend the CitizenM hotel. Very modern, with a designer feel to it, comfortable and reasonably priced.

The high-tech hotel room, with your choice of light colour for the shower cabin

Monday, October 3rd

We head out for Stirling at 2pm and spend the afternoon and evening rehearsing with the orchestra. Up until now the shows had been with piano accompaniment, but the next 3 are with reduced orchestra, so the cast have to adjust and get used to performing with a conductor rather than the immensely flexible and forgiving pianists. The rehearsals go well and everyone is looking forward to performing in the MacRobert Centre, a nice modern venue with enormous wing space and fairly cool by theatre standards (Linlithgow was like a sauna in comparison). I say everyone is looking forward to tomorrow, I have as yet not received a clear indication as to whether or not I will be performing.

Tuesday, October 4th

In the morning the company manager informs me that I will indeed be going on tonight. I celebrate with a steak lunch and before I know it it's bus, venue, dialogue call, dance call, beginners' call, first half, interval, hell, and we're done. It's less stressful and much more fun this time round, and it's pretty amazing that I got to perform with the orchestra. It was a fantastic experience and I got to work with an outstanding group of people, to whom I'm grateful for all the support, encouragement and (to try out an Irish term) good craic.

Pluto

My Scottish Opera debut behind me, Wednesday sees me fly back to Cardiff. It all seems a bit surreal now that I look back on it... better write it up before it feels any more like a dream that never happened.

A Polish theme for the week

Over the last couple of days, thanks in no small part to my new iPad (I will soon write a post about how it serves as a musician's tool), I have found myself bombarded with information about English National Opera's production of Mieczysław Weinberg's The Passenger. While this does not strictly speaking have anything to do with the subject matter of this blog, I nonetheless feel compelled to share some of my sources, as this year seems to be bringing Polish-born composers into the limelight (apart from ENO's gambit with Weinberg, there is also Wexford Opera's production of Statkowski's Maria, an opera that I've heard great things about from David Agler himself, and also Dan Joy, who will be singing the Kozak), which makes me ever so slightly proud, and makes for more interesting conversations about Polish opera (thank God it's not just Moniuszko and Penderecki anymore), but these articles are (in my humble opinion) simply worth sharing!

First off is one of my favourite blogs, that of WNO's new Artistic Director, and famous British opera director, David Pountney: click here. The more recent post also concerns Weinberg's opera.

And then, thanks to a medium I've only recently started tentatively exploring, namely Twitter, I found this article in The Observer.

Needless to say, next time I'm back home in Poland, I will be hunting for the book... As for the opera, it's doubtful I'll be able to see the ENO production, but if it's as stunning as it supposedly is, then it's surely only a matter of time before it 'comes to a theatre near you'.

Saying goodbye to Glasgow

As I write this, my stint at Scottish Opera has drawn to a close... Or perhaps I should say that the rehearsal period has, as I will still be on standby for another couple of months (the girls even reckon we should have suitcases packed and ready just in case). It has been an eventful couple of days, and I know that some people would like to find out how the incident I last described developed, so here we go!

Thursday, September 8th

We have rehearsals in the morning, and these have been moved from Elmbank Crescent (SO headquarters) to the Citizen's Theatre, to give us more time to work on the set (hugely helpful, and probably inspired by last night's accident, which thankfully didn't have any drastic consequences, so I now feel better about touching on it here). We are told that Nick, the principal Orpheus is fine, and that he will be going on, though Adrian will have to take over gimp-anzee duties (apparently after the risk-assessment Nick will be treated as visually impaired for a week or so, after being hit in the eye with a bottle).

Opening night goes well. Nick's eye looks slightly frightening, but gets worked into the dialogue very well, and he gives a great performance, so obviously it looks worse than it is. The audience react well, though some gasps of shock can be heard every now and then, which is probably what the director was going for, and laughter dominates throughout anyway, so no harm done in challenging the audience. It's all far too silly to be taken as offensive anyway (at least by a Glaswegian audience).

At the company reception after the show we have a chance to chat to the cast a bit, which is nice. Nick is in very good spirits, especially when recounting his recent taxi ride:
Driver: So what happened to you then?
Nick: I got stabbed in the eye in the Gorbals. (the area of Glasgow where the Citz theatre is located, a fairly rough neighborhood)
Driver: Ah well, I've picked up worse...

Friday, September 9th sees us running the show for the first time in its entirety. We do a messy job, but it's secure enough that it never gets close to derailing, so although there's thought to be put in before tomorrow's covers' run, we all know where we went wrong and how to fix it.

Saturday, September 10th

Our last day, the covers' run (cue ominous music or fanfare as you see fit). We all convene at the theatre quite early to warm up, focus, walk the set, etc. It might seem being a bit precious, but it's our only full run on the set with props and elements of costume, plus management will be in the audience.

Although, on that last point, Derek Clark said something reassuring yesterday. The covers' run is not an audition, he as head of music has seen us working, other key people auditioned us and we already got the job. Treat it as a rehearsal, focus on the technical stage elements, as it'll be our last chance to go over them in relative calm.

The run goes pretty smoothly, I must say, and it's a huge relief, to be honest. I now feel that if I was to go on, I wouldn't be a risk or extreme hinderance to the cast! A quick lunch, one last notes session, and... That's it! We're ready to step in if need be. It's been intense, fast and furious, but we did it. It was an incredible team effort, and one couldn't ask for a better team than the people I had the pleasure of working with here. Thank you all!

It's not over though, I've got to find a workable way to keep all the staging in good shape until December, including the dances... And there are arias I want to learn, a Mahler song cycle to prepare, and college is starting in a week! Bring on the fun!

The cover cast, minus Adrian (gimping) and Laura (taking the photo)

Always be ready to go on

A cliche? Read on...

It's been an uneventful couple of days, including a day off, some friendly catch-ups in person and over Facebook, some fruitful clothes shopping, and of course more rehearsals (both watching and doing). Nothing really worth mentioning until...

Wednesday, September 7th

Dress rehearsal day. And at that very rehearsal, which was open and attracted an audience, one of the principals got injured and had to be replaced in the 2nd half of the show. I won't go into detail, it's still very fresh in my memory, as I only just got home and am already writing (I confess to being slightly in shock, and that's only having been witness to the whole thing). I will however write a bit about the dynamic in the theatre as the scene unfolded.

It was a prop-related accident, not everyone saw it, as it was a busy scene on stage. Even when the principal walked off, not everyone in the cover cast caught on to what was going on (I don't know about the audience, we were in the circle, apart from them, but as we knew the show we had the best chance of noticing any mishaps, and it still took a while to permeate our ranks). The whispers did however slowly spread, so when a frantic woman came up to where we were, we knew that Adrian was going to have to go on. So as he went off to get into costume, we were left there fretting about the accident, wondering how bad it was, and stressing over the fact that Adrian would have to do the one scene we hadn't set yet, so essentially being directed from the wings. When he did step onto the stage, I sneaked a glance at our row. We were all leaning forward, our hands over our mouths, eyes open wide. Thankfully it went well, very well considering the circumstances, with the cast being very helpful in subtly guiding our colleague through the staging (they had also done a great job of covering the lack of their respective colleague in the immediate aftermath of the accident). We all relaxed up in the circle and even went through a bit of group hysterical elation at how well it went.

Afterwards I went to take Adrian's things to him backstage and to find out how bad the injury was (seeing the ambulance at the stage door did nothing for my nerves). No one was forthcoming with specifics, Adrian was released and told to be ready in case he had to go on tomorrow for opening night, so we headed home, bumping into the rest of the covers on the way out. Much speculation and worry understandably ensued (after everyone had expressed how impressed they were with Adrian's performance), but as we had no chance of finding out anything more, we all went our separate ways. I got to chat a bit with Adrian on the way home, he said the feeling he got was surreal. That's the only word he could find to describe it. I can't even imagine...

I got home only to realize, that I myself felt very unnerved by the experience. I'm on edge, restless, hungry for news, worried, anxious... And I wasn't even directly affected! How must everyone in the cast, backstage, etc feel? Again, I can't even imagine, but my thoughts are with them.

Reflecting on the nature of the beast

Sunday, September 4th

I'll spare you the details of this morning's rehearsal of Scene 3 (as tempting as it is, but I just can't find the right words to describe my anal rape scene), let's just say that we're moving forward with the blocking at a swift pace.

I will focus instead on the sitzprobe, which took place this afternoon. It was interesting for 2 reasons, the first of which is that there was an invited audience of teenagers, presumably as part of Scottish Opera's educational projects. Not only did the conductor have to run a rehearsal, but also address the audience with brief explanations of the plot.

The second interesting observation has more to do with what I'm doing here, namely covering. Two of my understudy colleagues sang at the rehearsal. One knew that she would be singing for some time, as her counterpart had arranged to miss the sitz due to another engagement. The other had to step in on much shorter notice, as his counterpart had a car accident on his way into Glasgow. Luckily it was nothing serious, and he rejoined the cast just after the halftime break... just as Toby (the cover) was about to sing his aria. It's disconcerting to think that we can only go on in the case of unfortunate circumstances, and also that not only may we be required to step up to the plate on short notice, but also to step down on even shorter notice. It's a strange thing, this covering. What I write may of course seem obvious, given the nature of the job, but oddly enough I hadn't spent any time thinking about how I might feel about the whole thing. A friend asked me today if I'm silently hoping to go on at some point during the run, and to be honest, I hadn't even considered the possibility until today. And after today, I think that if it should come to that, I'm going to make sure I could do a good job of it, but as far as hoping is concerned... I'll refrain from even thinking about it. The stress would be tremendous, but more importantly I'm afraid I may feel as though I'm stealing something (nonsense of course, but I'd feel like that anyway).

Monday is our day off, and I'm looking forward to having lunch with Catriona in Edinburgh to catch up with her and keep the spirit of Banff alive.

Working fast

Thursday, September 1st

A day of relative laziness, as it is decided that the rehearsal I was planning to attend is to be closed to covers. The evening, however, is a completely different story. We have a session with the choreographer and get started on the dances. There are 2 main dance sections, a minuet and the infamous can-can. As an added twist, because the production moves the action to modern times, both these dances have to be adjusted to fit a rave scenario ( Hell is a nightclub ). This is reminiscent of the Fledermaus production we put on this year at the RWCMD, but here there is a lot more specific choreography. The minuet is turned into a line dance, which is made quite tricky because of the translation from the traditional line dance 4/4 to the minuet 3/4. The can-can retains its basic step, but adds 'rave' elements. While the line dance is fairly manageable, the can-can is so fast and furious, that even with the MD allowing us to refrain from singing a verse, it is a struggle to catch ones breath to sing. It may have been different if we had a chorus, but as it is, our job is to make this scene as loud and busy as we can, and there's only 8 of us.

Friday, September 2nd

Today we watch the whole show for the second time, as the principals have their floor run. This gives us the opportunity to take in more of the background action, which is often racier than what happens in the main focus. There is quite a large audience gathered for this run, with management and company employees taking advantage of the last chance to see the production before it leaves this building and moves into the Citizens Theatre.

The evening covers' rehearsal sees us plowing on with Scene 1, and I get to do my Aristeus song, complete with slightly pervy pilates session. We reach Eurydice's death song and dialogue thereafter. It's tricky insofar as we are meant to strike some of the set, but as covers we don't have access to the actual set, props and costumes until our final run. There's only so much you can do with miming...

The hall / break room, where we end up spending quite a lot of time, despite the fast pace

Saturday, September 3rd

We spend the morning with our choreographer, going through some more of Scene 4: raving, pills, Rohypnol, cocaine, myself DJ-ing, and a gimpanzee to top it all off... And in the afternoon we pick up where we left off our chronological work through, getting to about halfway through Scene 2.

Our director keeps saying what a terrible thing covering is: only a week or so to prepare what the cast had 3 weeks to work on, having to work at a hectic pace, not being able to go back and polish things, if we get a scene to a decent state it's time to move on, etc. However, everyone agrees we are doing well, and it's a good learning experience (good thing I'm still a student), plus it's reassuring to see that I am capable of working this fast.

Coming down with a bad case of hemiola *

Tuesday, August 30th

It's been a couple of days since I arrived in Glasgow to undertake my first engagement with a professional opera company in the UK. First off, a few words about how it's all organized, as for a long-time student it's all a bit magical to me.

I got the schedule for this week last Friday, with all the calls I'm expected to attend, but no mention of what's happening in each call other than whether we're doing music or production. The details are left to be worked out as we go along, but at least we know when we've got free time in advance (which is useful as some covers are already scheduling Alexander Technique and singing lessons). We start off on Monday afternoon with a tour of Scottish Opera's beautiful building and then a coaching session on the solo numbers and duets. The evening call sees the entire cover cast together for the first time to go through the big ensembles with Derek Clark, Head of Music and the conductor for the Orpheus shows with orchestra. On Tuesday he works through the entire piece with us, thus concluding our music calls. From now on it'll either be production or sitting in on the principals' rehearsals.

Our contract limits the number of calls we can have a week, and the schedule so far does not include too much observing, probably because from what I've heard from the principals, the show is pretty dance-heavy, so they want to get us stuck in and practicing the choreography as soon as possible. We were told that we're welcome to sit in on rehearsals outside our calls, but apparently there's no emotional blackmail involved. It's somewhat tough, as most days we are set to finish at 10pm, which will make it a tiring process and have us wanting to sleep in as much as possible. Still, after Banff it shouldn't be too bad.

The show itself, from what we've gleamed so far, is quite risqué. The text we're working with is a new translation by Rory Bremner. Well, I say translation, but in fact it's more a brand new libretto woven around the basic plot of Offenbach's operetta. Being newly commissioned, it is still undergoing some refinement, as we found out the very first day. A fair amount of the text is different from what we were given originally, which will make the next few days quite busy, what with all the unlearning and cramming we now have to do (thankfully there are quite a few cuts, though these too have to be learnt).

Once again I found myself in a heightened state of tension, having to sing in front of a new group of people. What makes it worse is that it's a professional environment now (and frankly I don't feel particularly professional, I'm still the same person I was in college 2 months ago...), with some of the other covers having sung for Glyndebourne, Grange Park, Buxton, etc. Still, once we get into it we find that we gel quite well as a group (this is confirmed later in the pub as well) and I even get a few compliments for my falsetto (I'll spare you the details of what happens in the scene that prompts the falsetto, let's just say it's quite graphic). I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but I'm pleasantly surprised by how friendly the atmosphere and people are here. I'm beginning to think that perhaps this business isn't as bad as some people say it is, I seem to always find myself surrounded by nice people...

Wednesday, August 31st

All the covers decided to watch today's afternoon rehearsal, which just so happened to be a full run of the show. Having heard so much about it, we were ready for most of the shocking moments. Most, not all... It's a provocative production, but funny. Some of the dancing may require stagger-singing though. We'll see how we get on, we start production in the evening. We don't get far enough for me to even appear on stage, but at least our director is realistic about what can be done in one session and lets those who aren't needed go early.



* a paraphrase of Derek Clark's comment about how the word 'hemiola' sounds a bit like a disease...

Summing up

So, it's been a week since I got back from Banff and I've had time to wind down and reflect on the 5 weeks I was there.

First of all, the program was intense. We practically didn't get any time to ourselves until a week before the shows. Perhaps principals and people who were only in one chorus were luckier than the rest of us in that respect, but I'm pretty sure everyone was kept very busy. This element of the organization was deliberate, and has its upsides and downsides. For one thing, it's hard work. Over 50 hours of classes/rehearsals a week meant that we essentially crammed more than a term's worth of college into 4 weeks. On the other hand, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and this way of working definitely builds up stamina and self-awareness, which is what the program aims to do. Another side-effect of the long hours was that there wasn't much time for individual practice or working notes from the previous sessions. Sometimes it wasn't even a question of time itself, but if you got an hour off at some point, you were too tired to focus on more work, so you had to use that time to rest.

The staff were phenomenal. It's thanks to their dedication and inspiring attitude that the heavily loaded schedule seemed in some ways to fly by. We didn't get to work with some of them as extensively as we would have liked to (more time in smaller groups with J-P Fournier would have been amazing), but on the whole I couldn't fault a single class I attended.

The program focuses on the rehearsal process. While there are general classes in the mornings, you spend most of your time in rehearsals, with individual lessons and coatings allocated in your spare time. Being in both operas, I had very little of said spare time, and most of that was assigned to coachings on Guglielmo. This meant I only got a couple of singing lessons over the course of the program. Others were much luckier than me, and I understand that the rehearsals had to come first, but I wish there was a way of balancing it all out better.

I'll just quickly touch base on the understudy aspect of my experience. Again, due to time constraints it didn't quite live up to my expectations. Covering is always a tricky business, and depending on where you get work as a cover, you may or may not receive extensive rehearsal time, or a covers run of the show. In a training program, however, I had hoped to get some time on stage and perhaps some form of performance to sum it all up. Unfortunately, as most of the covers were involved in both operas, or had to juggle chorus and minor roles in Lillian Alling, there was only time to focus on musical coaching. I did end up learning the role quite well, with a better understanding of it than I could have gotten preparing it on my own, but at the end of the day, as a cover, I felt pretty useless. If I had had to go onstage to perform, I would probably have been a major hinderance to the rest of the cast, never having done the blocking. I should note, that the staff were made aware of these concerns and I'm sure in future years this will be addressed.

All in all Banff was a fantastic experience. The program delivered on its aims, though perhaps not quite in the way I was expecting. The classes all broadened our horizons and expanded our pallet of expressive tools, the productions were rewarding to put on, and as I mentioned earlier, the staff were exceptional. However, a program isn't just schedules, classes and shows. What made Banff OAT 2011 the wonderful experience it was, were the people. Through some combination of good casting and luck, we ended up having a fantastic group of dedicated participants, who worked well together on stage and off. The people I met there weren't just good colleagues and fun guys to hang out with (which they definitely were), they all inspired each other, supported when someone needed it, and together created the atmosphere that made my stay in Banff something I'll always remember.

Here endeth the cheese. I hope reading this you don't get the wrong impression, the program is intense, but I'd definitely recommend it both as an experience and as an education in itself.

Post-Mortem

Day 34 - Saturday

This morning we had a meeting of all the participants and staff to sum up the program. I'll write my own take on this when it's actually over (on Monday or maybe Tuesday, watch this space), in any case the Post-Mortem (their words, not mine) turned into more of a discussion about the business, rather than the program itself.

Kelly opened with a quote from Calvin Coolidge (30th President of the US):

'Nothing in the world can take the place of Persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan 'Press On' has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.'

Other words that resonated with me:

- 'There's nothing else I can do.' I can't see myself being anything but an artist, hopefully a singer.

- 'You're never going to be in control of your career.' Sad, but true, the decisions are almost always made by other people, all we can do is try to ride out whatever comes our way. Unless you're an entrepreneur and are willing to risk it.

- 'The world doesn't owe you anything.' David Agler pointed out that as a generation, we seem to be fooling ourselves that we're entitled to something, having gone to college, forked out cash for lessons and coachings, but ultimately, nothing comes easy, especially not in this business. The hard work never stops.

- 'Keep trying to reinvent yourself.' There's nothing worse for an artist than to stop growing. Finding a niche and work is one thing, but every now and again it's good to take a look at what you're doing and find things to tweak or even change, in our attitude, our repertoire, our habits, or just to find something completely different to do, to make coming back to our niche exciting again. It also makes us more employable if we're interesting people, because interesting people are interesting on stage.

A new perspective, same view, different viewpoint

(really it's the only picture I took today, and I felt you deserved a break from all this text)

David Agler also quoted Judith Forst's recipe for success:

1. Know your music.

2. Arrive to rehearsals 5 minutes early.

3. Be nice to your colleagues.

So simple, and yet so often not the case. If you're not doing all 3, time to reinvent yourself.

We also talked at length about auditions, how they're not the be all and end all (work ethic is, much more than auditions), but as they are a big part of what we do, here are some tips from the conductors, directors and repetiteurs we had here:

- maintain a level of formality, no one will hold it against you if you dress up and address the panel formally, but they may be put off if you don't

- don't ask for feedback, they're busy people, you won't get it

- don't get offended by the panel cutting you off, seemingly ignoring you, etc, it probably has nothing to do with you anyway

- make sure to present who you are now, not who you hope to be in 5 years (repertoire choice!)

- the result may have nothing to do with talent, you may just not be 'the most right one', and that doesn't reflect badly on you, you haven't failed, you just weren't who they were looking for

- be yourself, don't act (apart from getting into character when singing)

- don't necessarily sing from the opera they're casting for (you may not deliver what the conductor wants, while someone else does, so you lose), but offer things in the same style

- don't sing if you're not well

- give clean copies of the music to the panel and the accompanist (only include markings that tell them how you perform it, but don't crowd the page)

- no handshakes unless the panel offer their hands!

That last one is something I've discussed a lot with British singers, some of whom say it breaks the ice. Some things Kelly said today should convince everyone that it's generally a bad idea. These people sit there for hours on end, a handshake wastes half a minute or so of their time, if there's a queue of 200 singers, that's a lot of time wasted. Furthermore, you're stressed, do you really want their first impression of you to be your sweaty palm? And the clincher: disease. They don't want to risk catching a cold or worse. Besides, I've been brought up to view it as rude, it's up to the higher status person to choose whether or not they want to shake hands, and you never know, maybe the panel were brought up that way too. You can be friendly without it.

The faculty also stressed how small a world we operate in. Auditions are a small part of our lives, and just one of the ways we can get work. How we conduct ourselves in our work, our school, programs like this, with our colleagues, all that gets passed on. The decision makers talk, they all know each other (or know someone, who knows someone...) and they comment. And no news spreads faster than bad news, a bad reputation is very easy to get, but very difficult to shake off.

Anyway, 2nd and final show of Lillian Alling tonight...

Opening nights

Day 32 - Thursday

In the run up to tonight's performance Lillian Alling we get an opportunity for a bit of a lie in, as we are only scheduled for a brief rehearsal in the afternoon to work out the curtain calls and some notes. Then it's the usual: hair & make up, chorus warm up, and we're off. As we rush onstage for the Ellis Island scene it hits us: there is an audience out there! Well, I suppose that was to be expected, but honestly, I hope I never become immune to that rush of adrenaline. It's an extra kick of energy to be harnessed to bring something new to a performance. Kelly would maybe disagree with me, as he has his own view on the phenomenon of performing to an audience (which I'll touch on later, but I hope the two aren't mutually exclusive), but I feel that the audience brings something very important to the space. What we do as performers can be broken down into a myriad of basic elements, and most of these are grounded in repetition. Our work on vocal technique is based on repetition and refinement, we learn music by going over it again and again, internalising staging and the overall rehearsal process is incredibly repetitive... They do say (this isn't a completely abstract 'they', I've actually met and worked with some of 'them') that the goal is to perform every time as if you were doing it it for the first time: it's the first time you have that thought, you say that line, you meet this person. Unfortunately it is sometimes a struggle, depending on what the process has been, how the work has gone, what difficulties have arisen. But then you walk out onstage with the audience out there, in the dark. You know they're there, the air in the theatre is different, the temperature, the acoustic, etc. That moment, when you walk out and know that this isn't Kansas any more, we're not rehearsing, that's what I find helps me break away from 'singer Jan'. You surrender and trust that the work is done and is there to help you cope with any problems that may come up, but it's sort of out of your hands, there's no getting off, no going back, no more polishing to be done. The 'rehearsal' part of you switches off and you're free to be the character. It's a great feeling, what can I say, and this is just speaking as a chorus member / minor role.

Cairan and Melanie, or Scotty and Lillian

Both winners tonight!

The show goes very well, not perfectly (they never do), but it has an energy about it that I think let the story shine through the performance, and that's what it's all about. The audience's response and the feeling in the company were both very positive, and we retire to the after-show reception in (/for) good spirits.

Room 413 at the after party... shame about the hair

Day 33 - Friday

Today is Simon's birthday!

Before we get to this evening's Cosi fan tutte opening, we have a notes session with Kelly in the afternoon. It's quite philosophical this time, with a long chat about how we feel it went, 'digging past the surface of awesome'. This is where Kelly delivers the line that makes me worry that he may not agree with my feelings from last night: 'Never feel you need the audience. We should perform the same whether they're there or not.' The thing is, we never quite manage to do the latter. Of course I agree with never saying 'it'll be fine with an audience', and perhaps I'd rather think of it in terms of always thinking/pretending there is an audience, rather than pretending they don't make a difference.

Cosi opens to a great reaction from the crowd, with plenty of laughs and applause, as it should be. I'm happy for the principals, as they've been through a difficult process, and they deserved a show they could be proud of, and judging by the audience's appreciation, they got just that.

Dress rehearsals

Day 30 - Tuesday

It's the final straight, dress rehearsals and then we start the shows with Lillian Alling on Thursday. This morning we work on notes for the LA chorus scenes, in the afternoon Kelly restages our barn dance (just to add some fresh adrenaline to tonight's dress). Late afternoon sees the singers and supers gradually passing through hair & make up and start the nervous pacing in the dressing rooms and war zone. To solve my hair's tendency to rebel against styling I am made to wear clips in it for an hour before stage time, and to avoid the clips making marks I get a stylish buffer of tissues. This harks back to my supermodel adventure on Day 5. Ah, those were the days...

Like 2 supermodels before a fashion show

The Lillian Alling dress rehearsal goes reasonably well, though not without stress and hiccups on stage and off. I myself lose half my beard during the Norwegian scene, almost sending our leading lady into fits of laughter. Never trust tape, from now on it's glue for me (which is a shame, because it's disgusting stuff). I also get muddled during a costume change and miss an offstage chorus entrance (literally by a single beat!). Apart from that the run was a study of how colleagues deal with the mounting stress, and once again I'm left in awe of Melanie Krueger, whose Lillian is vocally superb every single time without fail and with no audible marking.

Day 31 - Wednesday

We are in for a treat this morning: Judith's husband, Graham Forst (a classics professor), gives a lecture on Da Ponte's collaborations with Mozart, showing how they bent the structure of comedy to herald the coming age of romanticism. The lecture is informative, engaging and above all hilarious. There's nothing like watching an inspiring lecturer, not a beat skipped, waking the audience to attention with perfectly timed jokes, and this all flowing more from personality than preparation (I may of course be wrong on this, but that would be in a way even more impressive). We leave the room with smiles on our faces and the worst jokes stuck in our heads ('So from the start of the opera we are in denial... and we're not even in Egypt.' OK, so maybe you had to have been there), and I like to think some useful information about the structure of comedy and how it works (asexual trickster servants facilitating the overcoming of the blocking character and the inevitable feast and wedding at the end reinforcing the importance of the structures society builds to protect us from our human flaws... or something like that).

We then have notes with Kelly in the afternoon, where he says that calling last night's dress 'verage' would only be slightly harsh. There's another level to bring it to, that much is sure, and apart from the usual notes (words, cut offs, cues, blocking) there are two pearls of wisdom:

- when receiving 'physical' notes, make sure to run them before the show to get them into your body, otherwise even if you remember the note, your body will betray you

- communicate thoughts, not feelings

The second sounds like a slogan, but often gets forgotten when singing, because as musicians we are prone to channelling the mood (which is usually the orchestra's job), but as actors our job is not to reinforce mood, but to tell the story. I'm not sure whether the risk is greater when singing in a foreign language (where the temptation is to fall back on the music and just convey a vague idea what it is we are actually saying, filling the void with 'feeling') or in ones native tongue (where we assume the audience will understand our every word and 'get it' without us having to work too hard). Maybe it's time to reconcile with Stanislavski?

Is there a butler convention in town?

This evening it's time for the Cosi fan tutte dress rehearsal. Again it is a study in stress management and warm-up habits. Other than that it goes quite well for a rehearsal, though because of the limited involvement we have as chorus, my impression may not be the best informed.

Pre-show antics

Together for the first time, 2 timeless symbols: the Apple logo... and the Soviet Star

Counting down

Day 29 - Monday

Morning: no lie in today, we're called for a Czech language coaching at 10am. Actually it's more of a crash course, as the entire company is there and we only have 45 minutes. Still, we get a useful hand-out and I now have the basic vowel and consonant sounds on my dictaphone. Funnily, when we split into smaller groups to practice speaking using a sheet with standard phrases, I end up with Alex, who is of Ukrainian descent, so we both switch between Czech and our native languages. All in all, a pleasantly Slavic morning, if a tad on the early side.

Afternoon: we work through notes from last night's run of Lillian Alling. Another tiring session in the theatre, with most of the time spent sitting around waiting to be called, most of us feeling under-energised. Luckily the dress rehearsal is tomorrow, so with opening night in sight we're sure to pick up some adrenaline and get back some of the excitement that drives us on stage. The tiredness we're feeling is normal: these notes sessions and technical runs of tricky blocking are normal at this stage of production, everyone knows they can expect a lot of sitting around and waiting, so don't get me wrong: I'm not complaining, it's just that knowing how it works doesn't make it any less draining.

Some memorable quotes and motifs from the past 4 weeks

Evening: Cosi fan tutte stage & orchestra. Nothing thrilling to report, just a lot of backstage time either working on our next individual projects, relaxing with a book, standard banter or singing along with the PA feedback from the stage.

Opera, opera, opera, opera... and then a day of being human?

Day 27 - Saturday

Morning: Catriona and myself have a coaching session on the Il core vi dono duet from Cosi with Joel Ivany (the director of the main production of Cosi here) and Robin Wheeler (one of the repetiteurs). It's great fun to get the duet on its feet and see how different it is from the last time I did it. New team, new approach, and it's good that Joel prefers to explore the scene with us, rather than have us copy the blocking of the principals.

Our input into the War Zone's decor

Afternoon: more Cosi as we launch into the piano dress (or stage & piano, as they're known in the UK). It's the first time we're in costumes, so that provides some fun, but for the most part it's sitting around for the chorus, which I try to put to good use by working on my dialogue for Orpheus.

Costume fun

I don't get much of a break between sessions, as I go to a presentation of the Banff Centre's new commission: The Last King of Scotland. It's a new opera by Stephen McNeff, with a libretto by Giles Foden (the author of the book on which the 2006 film of the same name was based). At present it's a work in progress and has been workshopped over the past two weeks here with some of the OAT participants, as well as soloists brought in to work on the main roles of Idi Amin and Garrigan. The presentation is of a couple of semi-staged scenes from the opera. It is interesting comparing all of the new operas I've been involved with or close to over the last couple of months. They are all so different: John Estacio's Lillian Alling is almost like a film score with singing, cinematic, grand, accessible; Tom Floyd's operas are more modern, but quite melodic at the same time; while The Last King is eclectic and atmospheric (with great use of African percussion and the vocal ensemble), but the sung solo lines are rarely melodic and quite difficult to follow, which makes for a more demanding experience. There seem to be fans of each of these approaches, and I don't think I'm enough of an expert on contemporary music to have an informed opinion (or one worth sharing for that matter).

Evening: stage & orchestra time for Lillian Alling. The stage element is definitely the stronger one this time round, but hopefully there'll be enough time to tighten it all up. The principals once again deliver full performances, which considering it's their third day in a row is no mean feat.

Day 28 - Sunday

The long-awaited day off! First order of business: sleep in. Then another inspired initiative: we rent cars and drive to Lake Louise for a day of light hiking.

Lake Louise: 'Yes! Nature! I win!'

The lake itself is stunning (if the atmosphere is slightly spoiled by the huge hotel by the shore), and then a short hike later it only gets better.

Mirror Lake

Agnes Lake

We reach a second lake, then a waterfall, and then a third lake with a teahouse and free range chipmunks bustling around the tourists. We enjoy some tea and cakes (yes, even in the mountains we manage to maintain a high degree of sophistication) and then head back to enjoy some mexican food in downtown Banff and then a soak in the hot tub. Some of the tourist infrastructure here dates back to the turn of the century, when the railway was built through the mountains (as I find out from helpful information signs by the trail today), and at first catered for well to do people and was run by the rail company, who brought in Swiss guides (who promptly went about conquering the local peaks) and built luxurious hotels, picturesque chalets and isolated teahouses. See, it's not just about the singing, sometimes it's nice to have a day when you can just be normal.

PS photos