We're all the same... in a good way. BYO 25th Anniversary

It's a small world, and as much as I hate starting a post with a cliché, this particular one was a sort of running theme for yesterday's 25th Anniversary Concert from British Youth Opera. I have to say, I've never been so glad of 8 hours spent on a bus (this is both ways, thankfully, and I am writing this courtesy of on-board wifi, so at least it's a semi-productive journey). While my role in the concert was only to slightly bolster the already formidable singing forces of BYO alumni in the final number, it was great to be in the audience and see the remarkable cross-section of singers who have come through this institution. You can imagine how interesting it was to hear soloist ranging from well-established singers I've seen and admired on the operatic stage like Rosemary Joshua (who was a principal in the very first BYO production in 1987) and David Kempster, through young professionals who are already making a mark as Young Artists at the UK's leading opera companies, all the way to this year's BYO principals, some of whom are still in college, and singers on every imaginable level of professional development in between.

For someone like me, reading the biographies in the programme and watching all these people perform was like looking at a road map of the singing world and all the routes one can take to get to where we ultimately want to be. Yes, they all had BYO in common, and the National Opera Studio figures in quite a few bios, but not all of them, and yet here they all are, with roles at major companies under their belt. It's comforting to think that it won't be the end of the world if I don't get into NOS, because there are other ways to success, all it takes is determination. It's funny how hung up we 'youngsters' can get on NOS and Glyndebourne Chorus. Yes, they're great, but there's a whole world of possibilities, so maybe we can afford to give ourselves a break and not act like failing at plan A is the end our careers (even before they've begun).

Another perk of being at the event as a BYO alumnus was backstage access and seeing how familiar everyone is together, regardless of age or standing. Maybe that's something that the BYO atmosphere evokes particularly well, but luckily it's not the only place I've experienced it. You can feel the unspoken words hanging in the air: we're all the same, really... in a good way. Yes, the small world means we are sort of competing, although that's not really the right word, I think a better way of putting is that we're all trying to find a place for ourselves in a slightly cramped space. Luckily most of us are polite people who don't push or shove and are ready to support someone who's stumbled.

Talking in the pub after, you don't even really think to yourself that the last place you saw the person opposite was the Coliseum stage or in an article about the Jette-Parker programme and how you wish that you get to do the same things... Well, obviously I've thought that ;) but luckily not at the pub, as most of these people don't provoke such thoughts, because they're just really nice. And when you do think about it, it's more about being glad that good things happen to good people and that since we're all not really that different, that means we all have a chance to find our place. And when we do, we'll keep running into our friends from back when it all started.


Once again, BYO has managed to give me a nice dose of optimism, and whether that's by design or inadvertently, I'm very grateful and glad I made the trip. It shows the company isn't just about the principal 'stars' but actually does something positive for everyone involved. Looking forward to the 50th!

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We are trained professionals who do a job of work

We had a visit today from Simon Curtis of Equity (National & Regional Organiser, Wales & South West England), who came to talk to us about what Equity has to offer us as students and soon to be young professionals, but also to answer any questions we had about the profession, drawing on his extensive experience not only as a union representative, but also a professional singer for many years.

I won't go into detail about what Equity does, the website speaks for itself. I will just quickly say what struck us most. We are all young(ish), unestablished singers, still students despite years of prior study, experience and dedication to our chosen art form. As such, we are all trying to make it into the professional world, and in order to progress along the road to this goal we are very eager to add points to our CV by learning and performing new repertoire. This often leads us to think of performing as an end in and of itself, and any money attached to it as a bonus, letting us put the performance in the 'professional' part of our CV. We are grateful for our opportunities, as we know the competition is fierce in our little world, and with arts funding being cut left, right and centre every paid job is a win.

Or is it? It is understandalbe that younger, less experienced singers will be paid less than seasoned professionals. Smaller companies pay less than the world class ones, fine. But at some point the numbers stop adding up. Examples were given in the meeting: a Requiem for £50, a six week rehearsal period for an all-inclusive fee of £300, some singers being paid £100 while the colleague standing next to them was receiving £900. With the explanation always being: 'but it's paid work'. Is it really?

I have nothing against the concept of pay-to-sing. At least it's what it says on the tin and you usually get some training in the process. I have attended many a training programme and paid for it, either fees or expenses, and felt that I got a lot out of it and that it was worth it. But this pretend-to-be-paid-for-singing is a bit demeaning, and I have caught myself thinking: with the amount of preparation I put into this concert, the travel money, and day spent rehearsing and performing, I can't even honestly say I've made minimum wage. The worst thing is, if I don't take the gig, there's a long queue of young desperate singers who will, and I end up slightly poorer sitting at home twiddling my thumbs and waiting for success to come a'knockin'.

When do you say 'enough'? When do you stop thinking you should be grateful for the opportunity and start thinking you deserve to be paid for your work? With so little of the properly paid work out there, there is always someone willing to undercut to get a foot in the door, so we all play this slightly crooked game. Equity can't solve this problem, neither can we really, we can just count it all out for ourselves and pick a moment when we can stop taking the little jobs and freebies, or start asking for more and risk losing those engagements. It's just interesting to stop and think that we are in fact highly trained skilled and talented people working for pittance.

And as a footnote: you'll notice that on the list of things I counted as going into a typical gig (prep, time, travel) I didn't list rent, tax, etc. Not to mention the money it took to train at college... or something towards a pension... children? Well, lets not get ahead of ourselves, but still, putting these little gigs into a real world perspective is, well, a bit depressing. But it's what we do, and in terms of performing, we do it gladly. But it'll have to stop eventually, either by people starting to pay us for the work we do, or by us finding real jobs...

Carrying opera kicking and screaming into the century of the fruitbat

To those confused by the title, it's a Terry Pratchett reference, but worry not, the post is not about the Discworld novels.

We had a visit in college today from Music Theatre Wales, who led a workshop for student singers and composers. They are currently touring with an operatic double-bill of new commissions: In the Locked Room by Huw Watkins to a libretto by David Harsent and Ghost Patrol by Stuart MacRae with words by Louise Welsh. The workshop was meant to give us an insight into the process of putting on a contemporary opera, the challenges faced by singers, conductors, directors, how these are overcome and what to watch out for if you've never worked on new music before. We got to hear from the cast of In the Locked Room about their backgrounds, how they set about learning the opera and what the rehearsal process involved (this reminded me of my own thoughts on the subject from what feels like ages ago). We then heard a scene from the piece, had a go at singing it ourselves as a choir, and then we heard the dreaded words: any volunteers?

Inspired by my flatmate, who has prescribed herself a 'mentality-adjustment programme' consisting of doing something she knows is good for her, but that she doesn't want to do (if it were me this would probably stop at eating more vegetables, but she's being a lot more inventive), I raised my hand and steeled myself for what is a personal nightmare for me: sight-reading in front of my peers. It's bad enough in a rehearsal room (which I avoid like the plague by preparing well in advance so as to avoid embarrassment), where everyone is focussing on their own parts, but in front of an audience... of singers... Suffice it to say that, not being a natural or schooled sight-reader, my technique pretty much goes out of the window when I find myself confronted with what suddenly become meaningless dots on a page, so when I say I think I didn't make too big a fool of myself, we can put the whole experience firmly in the 'win' column.

Of course, this wasn't a masterclass in sight-reading, but rather a super-condensed look at the process of learning and interpreting contemporary music. After dealing with the dots and the words, we were guided through the scene by the actual cast, looking at character, and also all the other musical clues that the composer put in the score and how they relate to the drama of the piece.

The general observations and thoughts that I took out of the session, were these:

- Never take any marking the composer puts on the page for granted.

- So as not to get overwhelmed trying to get everything at once, start by dealing with the text in rhythm (most of the cast said this was their starting point).

- Before accepting a role in a contemporary piece, make sure you can sing it. Difficult, as there is no fach system to help (or hinder, but I won't get into a discussion of fach now), the vocal score doesn't give you many clues on the orchestration you'll be dealing with, and depending on your musicianship, a glance at the score may not be enough to imagine what you're getting yourself into. The one thing you can judge at a glance is range and tessitura, and perhaps it's best to err on the side of caution when making a decision.

- While the musical challenges may be hard, new works take away some of the pressures we as performers put on ourselves, such as comparisons with other singers. More often than not no one will have heard this music performed by anyone else, so you don't have to compete with the Callases, Kaufmanns, Bryns and Thomas Allens of this world. 

- Performing contemporary music forces you to up your game in terms of your musicianship, because the music is very often difficult and requires more constant focus than core repertoire, which we are all subliminally familiar with to a certain degree. 

- It also makes you approach standard repertoire differently, freeing you up to look at it as a piece of new music and go back to the bare bones of it, ignoring the weight of preconceptions we naturally form based on the performances we see and recordings we listen to.

Encouraging us to try and perform contemporary works whenever we can, the artists of MTW said that it is our responsibility as performers to carry music and opera forward into the future, by introducing it to audiences, but also by giving new composers the opportunity to create and hone their craft. I've often thought that modern 'classical' music is a bit hit and miss, but if no one performs it or tries new pieces out, how are we to ever discover the hits? And every miss is an opportunity to take aim again...

It was fantastic that the cast all stayed behind for a coffee and chatted with us so openly. It was nice to hear that these people we see on stage performing this often fiendishly difficult music aren't all freaks with an inhuman ability to learn it all in a split second (though I'm sure there are musicians like that out there), but they're just like us: STEP 1 - find a coach and get them to notebash with you. 

It seems obvious, but actually isn't. A friend I was walking home with actually said that hearing them say that they all had help learning the music relieved a lot of her own self-doubt about undertaking contemporary music projects. I'm sure she's not the only one who shed a negative preconception this afternoon, which means that the workshop can also go in the 'win' column.

I'm really looking forward to seeing the double-bill tomorrow night!

On a side note, I'm always on the lookout for new music to listen to (most often I end up steering clear of classical music, so if that's your area of interest, stop reading now), and it seems strange that I bought an album today that contains a song about the nature of music and how dumbed-down and stagnant it's becoming, which accompanied my journey into college for a workshop which dealt with innovative music and carrying our art forward. I love those kinds of coincidences, which is why to make this post a complete reflection of my state of mind, I give you: 

The Sound of Muzak by Porcupine Tree 

(the sound quality isn't brilliant here, but the video has subtitles)