Tidbits

*I wanted to follow up on two of the pictures I posted below, so please excuse the repetition of the photos:

For me, one of the most touching moments of the Marilyn Horne gala took place before any ticket holders were let in through the doors. I was called for an 11:15 rehearsal (the first of the day!), and because I had some time to kill, I stayed in the hall as the handful of other singers rehearsed their respective pieces. As much as folks may love the atmosphere of a packed hall, I don't know that I will ever feel anything quite as intimately touching or moving as hearing Thomas Quasthoff rehearse his simple tribute to "Jackie", 'Wie bist du, meine Königin" ("How blissful you are, my Queen"). There wasn't a SOUND in the hall, other than Martin Katz's nimble strokes of the piano keyboard, and the most hushed tone you can imagine wafting from the stage as Thomas sculpted his voice around the perfect text. I couldn't stop my tears, for it was one of the most perfect things I'd ever heard. And after regrouping myself, I immediately thought, "Oh no - what a tragedy that the hall is empty! No one heard it!!", and then I realized - that's not the way it works. Music is created in the split of a second, with a fleeting melody sent out on the breath - and then it dissipates like the ether until if, and when the next phrase arrives. But it can never, ever be recreated. If that isn't the perfect example of how to live in the moment, I don't know what is. I had not met Thomas before, but my life is now officially richer for having heard him, and laughed with him!

There really aren't words for this. Truly. There aren't. But, of course, I'll try.

My first opera experience (for real) was watching a live simulcast from the MET (I'm going to guess circa 1989-90?) of Don Giovanni with Maestro James Levine conducting. It was the first time (but not the last!) that his music making overwhelmed me and showed me the raw power of music.

Fast forward a few years (circa 2002-3?) and I'm finally granted a stage audition at the Met. (This is as opposed to the rehearsal hall audition which everyone knows rarely leads to any actual contracts, but was a necessary step to getting an actual stage audition - in fact, I did 2 of those primer auditions.) Rumor had it that Maestro Levine "might" show up. Trying not to cave in to the shaky knees and sweaty palms as I stared out at the empty 4,000 seat house, I bravely jumped off the ledge with no parachute and launched into "Non più mesta". Halfway through I saw a dark figure meander into the hall, pace back and forth at random and the only thought running through my mind was, "oh my lord, I think that's Maestro Levine - he's bored, he hates me, my singing is making him agitated!!!!" But I kept going. They then asked for "Deh per questo" from Mozart's "Clemenza di Tito", to which I immediately began to question, now that Levine was IN THE ROOM, whether my modest ornaments were appropriate or not. Despite the wretched inner dialogue, I kept going, kept singing, and don't think I altered my ornaments so much.

The world was not set on fire - but I did get a debut contract out of it to sing some performances of Cherubino in 2005. Another season later was my first Rosina. But at this point, I was quite sure the "Levine Boat" had sailed, for surely his repertoire interests did not cross paths with my future undertakings, and so while I was more than happy to be at the Met, I was privately a little sad that perhaps I would never have the chance to work with the Maestro.

Thankfully, they allow stow-away's on that boat apparently, because I was invited to perform a concert with him and his "band". Not only would we preform Mozart and Rossini, but he was to play the grand scena "Ch'io mi scordi di te".

I know that at the end of whatever career I end up having, this experience will always be at the top of my "I can die happy" list. The rehearsal process - so easy and relaxed, and yet so heightened with beautiful music making, Mozart's divine simplicity shining through - was ample enough for me. But to take the stage with this group of musicians at the top of their game is something I will never forget. Not to mention that the Maestro offered to throw in a little encore - that same "Non più mesta" that seemed to unnerve him before - and if that isn't the perfect example of things coming full circle, I'm not sure what is! It was a good day!

A week in the life...

I was talking with a dear friend the other day about our lives: we weaved through a knotted tapestry of topics needling through relationships, vocations, work-out regimes and how we perceive love. After drawing but a few conclusions, he asked me, "did you imagine your life turning out like this?" This is a friend who had walked through each step of the last complicated week with me, and we both looked back at the end of it thinking, "Whose life is this, anyway?" But his question triggered a startling realization for me: in no way shape or form was this the life I expected to be living today.

I never dared to dream so big. I never in a million years could have imagined how my life might take shape to include performing with my idols, making music with the very best artists in the world, or walking past 57th and 7th Ave and seeing my photo on two different posters announcing sold-out concerts all the while with the question "How do you get to Carnegie Hall" rolling around in my spinning head as I laugh to myself, "Well, I just took a taxi!".


The little girl in me wants to scream, "Hey, don't wake me up yet - I want to see how it turns out." But that's not something I can know just yet - for if I think of what I was dreaming of 15 years ago ("I want to be the cool high school music teacher"!), I seem to be in an alternate universe from that point in time! We were talking about how much determination this career takes, and how from the outside it may seem that I've been extremely career-driven and (ooo, dare I say it?) ambitious (which you simply have to be to a certain degree in this field), but I looked at him with shock and awe thinking, "but that's not me - I never set out to DO all this!" And that realization really made me think - how is it that I've arrived here if I didn't set out for this place?

Well, as I've always said, it's been a series of small, hopefully well-thought-out decisions and steps that I made according to what my gut and my heart were saying - but I'd be lying if I said I knew to where each of those decisions and steps would lead me. I've been simply doing the work, and trusting things to work out as they need to - and in fact, they always have. I look back and think of the panic-laden moments, the fear-based episodes, the huge attacks of self-doubt and realize that each one of them taught me exactly and precisely what I needed to learn for that moment in time. And they led me to the next step. Which led me here.

During the last week I performed a brand new Rossini Finale Aria for Marilyn Horne's 75th birthday gala along with Frederica von Stade, Susan Graham, Dolora Zajick, Karita Mattila, David Daniels, Dimitri Hvorostovsky, Thomas Quastoff, Thomas Hampson, and fellow WSU Shocker, Samuel Ramey, to name but a few, watched America swear in a new President, received the key to my hometown city of Prairie Village, Kansas surrounded by family and friends, performed our "Furore" concert for two sold out concerts in both Kansas City and at Carnegie Hall, hosted the HD broadcast of Stephanie Blythe's tour-de-force Orfeo, and capped it off with a (pinch me) concert on the stage of Carnegie Hall singing with the unrivaled Metropolitan Opera Orchestra with Maestro James Levine conducting (and playing) Mozart and Rossini.

At the end of all this, my head was spinning, and there were truly an infinite number of emotions soaring through my tired body. It takes a lot to make it through a week like that, and it takes a lot to ARRIVE at a week like that. This is what I was contemplating at a dinner after the final concert, as I was surrounded by my dear friends, and most importantly by my husband. Yes, the thrill of the events was undeniable - and the knowledge that a week like that doesn't come around very often in one's life is not lost on me - but in the end, all I desired was to be with my family and friends. In the end, these people who have lifted me up when I was down, helped me to celebrate the triumphs and absorb the failures, and who have stood by me in every moment they could - this is where I wanted to be. These beautiful people who accept that I cannot always be there for them physically to help them celebrate their moments, somehow embrace it, and help me get on with it.

It's nothing new, but it is the curse of the artist who needs their family and friends so desperately, but who seemingly is always apart from them. The thing I am most grateful for in all of this isn't the reviews, or the applause, or the billboards: it is to know that at the end of it all, I can return to what is most important. I hope they all know that.

My turn: Yes "I" did!

A MYRIAD of things to divulge about the last week of my life - the overwhelming week - but no time just yet. I am waiting for the "luxury" of an uninterrupted (touch wood or iron, please) plane flight in a few days to collect my thoughts and memories, but in the meantime - a few choice images (somebody pinch me!) from the past few days:

Yes, we did.

I am grateful for today. I am grateful for the American spirit, and more inclusively, the human spirit performing at it's very best. I am grateful to witness fear losing the battle, and grateful to be led by integrity, intelligence and inspiration.

A few of the inspired highlights from President Obama's Inaugural Speech:

"Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions - who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage."

"For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus - and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace."

And finally, a mantra that I think everyone should use as a measure for their lives:

"To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West - know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy."

It makes me question what, in my daily life, I am destroying as opposed to building. I prefer to be in the construction business, without a doubt, but even the slightest drop of fear has an immense destructive power.

I'm grateful to witness such an immensely historic, important and ultimately simple moment - but one that was a long time in coming. Not only 8 years long, but centuries long. Words fail me, but the word gratitude keeps coming to mind.

But as he soberly reminds us over and over: now the work begins.

Was it me, or was this shift felt around the world? Yeah. That's what I thought!

CHEERS!

What does one get a Legend for her 75th birthday? Nothing seems appropriate, and yet if it comes from the heart, I suppose anything goes!

Sunday I had the immense honor of singing on the Gala Tribute to the GREAT, the ONE, the ONLY Marilyn Horne, and to say it was overwhelming is the understatement of the century. She was celebrating many things that day - the 15th Anniversary of her Song Foundation, her 75th "Diamond" birthday, and quite frankly, her being alive. Most people know that she was stricken with the same cancer that got the better of Luciano Pavarotti, and at nearly the same time - to have lost both would have been too much for the world to handle I dare say, so we have been blessed with her radiant presence a good while longer, thankfully. And in return New York City turned out to give her their hearts in a grand fashion.

The artist line-up was replete with young singers that have been encouraged and "reared" through her foundation and Music Academy of the West, singing beautiful songs so close to "Jackie's" heart. A few friends showed up to pay tribute (Flick von Stade, Sam Ramey, Dimitri Horostovky, to name but a few) and everyone was thrilled to pay homage to this incredible life force that changed the landscape of opera in the 20th Century.

There is no denying that she blazed a far-reaching trail with her determination, bold repertoire choices and utter technical brilliance that still leaves an audience breathless and dazzled today - any young singer that doesn't pore over her numerous recordings is an idiot. She marches to no one else's drummer, she galvanizes colleagues and philanthropists alike, seduces audiences with her radiant smile, and laid a legato-strewn path of bel canto possibilities that continues to set the standard for those of us that follow her.

A simple "thank you" is not enough. She gave too much for that to suffice. Being in this career now for a few years and learning the ropes, I know that it could not have been an easy path for her. To be at the top, to give so generously from the throne, and to dedicate so much heart to her craft surely cost her a number of things in private, and yet she still gave, still seduced, and still conquered the hearts of so many - surely making their lives a bit brighter.

I think it was a real desire to pay her back that made Sunday at Carnegie Hall such an emotional day for me. I was asked to close the program with "Tanti Affetti" (my first public performance of that aria, I might add!) and to say I was nervous hardly does justice to the emotions galloping through me. Here was one of the supreme forces of nature that single-handedly brought "serious" Rossini back to the table, redefined bel canto possibilities, and as a result, today I get to open my mouth and sing those limpid, cascading, fiendishly tricky phrases for a new public. She has given the world the gift of music, the gift of JOY, enriching our lives and lifting us up to know there is something bigger than ourselves. How we all need that, indeed!

It was an immense honor to take part in the tribute to Jackie, one which will long stay in my memory, as this will:



*AP photo by Stephen Chernin

Merry Christmas!

I wanted to wish each and every one of you the most wonderful Christmas greeting (or Hanukkah, or Kwanza, or just 25 of December, if the shoe fits!) I hope this finds you all surrounded by people you love and celebrating the best of life.

I also have a present for you: I have made a contribution in your honor to an organization called "Heifer". (Easy with the "fat lady" jokes, please!)

Heifer's Mission to End Hunger
Heifer envisions…
A world of communities living together in peace and equitably sharing the resources of a healthy planet.

Heifer’s mission is…
To work with communities to end hunger and poverty and to care for the earth.

Heifer's strategy is…
To “pass on the gift.” As people share their animals’ offspring with others – along with their knowledge, resources, and skills – an expanding network of hope, dignity, and self-reliance is created that reaches around the globe.

Heifer’s History
This simple idea of giving families a source of food rather than short-term relief caught on and has continued for over 60 years. Today, millions of families in 128 countries have been given the gifts of self-reliance and hope.

Your gift is the DREAM BASKET:


Heifer's Dream Basket is filled with shares of a sheep, heifer, goat, rabbits, and a flock of ducks and chicks. These animals give families milk for nutrition and a source of income. And with additional income there is money for school supplies, medicine and doctor expenses, and improved quality of living. The Heifer Dream Basket offers the hope a family needs for a sustainable future.

If you like it, and you can, please pass it on!

Merry Christmas!

(photo c/o Heifer.org)

Hasta luego! (Tour: Day 19)

As is only fitting, to conclude this nearly three-week sojourn, I end it as I began: sitting in an airport with an 8-hour delay! Of course, this time the difference is that I'm functioning on 2 hours of "sleep", having had to get up at 5:30 this morning to take the car to Madrid in order to promptly and patiently wait for the enormous travel delay I saw coming 3 days ago from all the US weather forecasts of winter "wonderlands". But I can't help but be struck by the difference in myself - not only the sleep deprivation, but the stark difference between eager anticipation and exhausted satisfaction.

Leaving Kansas City three weeks ago, I hadn't sung the program with the orchestra since April, and a lot of musical water had passed under my bridge (Monteverdi, Romeo, Idamante, Vivaldi, Elvira, Chausson, Beatrice...) - how would I feel coming back to this enormously demanding Handel project? The tour was off to a jet-lagged start, with that crucial 24-hour delay throwing me for a curve, but we blasted off and found our footing very quickly. Enormously important venues - some "home towns", some new ground - greeted us warmly and generously, and I have very treasured memories of each stop on this 7-city tour. A blasted bug gripped me for the last 2 shows, but with the wonderful help of the organizers, I weathered the viral storm, and left the amazing hall of Zaragoza knowing I had given my all.

So how does "The Fury" feel after 7 intensive concerts? Draining, to be sure. But I relished having my hypothesis of Handel's ability to probe the psychology of characters proven so correct. I found myself discovering new things in each and every piece throughout the tour - sometimes Medea reveled in her nastiness just for the sake of feeding her loss of power, sometimes she betrayed herself to be much more a victim; Ariodante more cruel one night in his scorn for Ginevra, the next more destitute in his confusion and loss; Dejanira, well, always mad!

It also reminded me that even in the course of the very exact program, singing the same notes, uttering the same words, delivering the same essential character - there is no accounting for the magic that can unpredictably take over and carry you (or the orchestra) through a musical kaleidescope into a different realm, and this is something you simply cannot script or plan for. Each piece took on a different life of it's own, causing different reactions in different people - and this is the ethereal thing I ADORE about what I do - the moments you cannot control, the emotions you must simply let fly and land as they will. It is alive!

Now, all that having been said, I'm thrilled last night was the last concert! I'm glad I have 3 weeks ahead of me to recoup, study and hibernate a bit (so you won't see me here quite as much, I'm afraid - it's DOWN TIME!) That's part of the essential pacing of something like this - building recovery time (mental as well as physical) into your schedule and taking full advantage of it. When I step back into the fray in January, I hit the ground sprinting, so I plan to take full advantage of each day.

But before signing off, a few souvenirs from the tour, and a very heartfelt thank you to everyone who came out in the bad weather to attend the concerts, who saved money to purchase tickets, who took a risk and bought DISCS (!), who waited so patiently in line to say hello, and who supported with your applause, your words and your enthusiasm. It was a pleasure to sing for you all!

From "Delphi" who apparently had a seat behind the stage in Salle Pleyel - a different vantage point I never see:


Also from "Delphi" who apparently moved around to the front for the second part:


Taken by my dear friend, Michael B after the Paris concert, as my other dear friend, Bill M, finally realized his dream of re-enacting his favorite scene from the movie, "Diva": strolling with a diva through the rainy streets of Paris in the wee hours of the morning, holding her umbrella, standing just a pace behind her. Apparently this is my diva-look:


After the final concert, we let down a bit. I'm holding the ties of two of the FABULOUS wind players - the ties which the entire section bought for €3 to color coordinate with my red "furious" corset, and who also stood up on stage to toss me 4 red carnations after the final bow last night, which was the sweetest thing in the world:


And finally, the entire group, Maestro Rousset, included. It was a real pleasure to make music with you all! Until we meet again in Kansas City, and New York, Hasta luego, amigos!

Highs and Lows (Tour: Days 16 & 17)

My husband took in his first circus while in NY last night - the Big Apple Circus, I think it's called? And as I caught up with him at the end of the concert in Biboa, I wrote, "Did you see one of those high-wire acts tonight? That was me!!!! I was on the tight rope!" Singing when ill is like walking on a thread-bare-wisp-of-a-wire high above a crowded room of people waiting to be entertained. As some of you may know, I'm a "tripper" with bad balance, so needless to say, it's a feeling I don't like.

Waking up the morning of a concert, knowing you are fighting some sort of bug or another, without a clue as to whether you'll be able to phonate or not is an experience I categorically prefer not to have! The high-wire act begins as you test out your voice - carefully, but with enough "hutzpah" to see if it's really there. When it doesn't respond, you don't have the option of throwing it down on the floor and stamping on it, as I could envision myself doing if I was a violinist. (Harder to do with that cello, but still possible. Ah, must be the reason I'm not a professional instrumentalist - too high an insurance premium for me!) But you also realize there is absolutely nothing you can possibly do, if the voice won't respond. So I find that this thinking keeps my stress levels relatively low. "I'll do all I can to make it through the concert, but if I can't, I simply can't," I think, and then I find I can go about my business.

My business included visiting a wonderful doctor (Graçias, Dottoressa Susanna!), loading up on liquids, vitamins, resting, and coordinating with the Maestro the alternative game plans. They were wonderful, preparing other selections, should I have needed to pull out an aria or two -and all were ready for anything to happen. The gorgeous presenters were the first ones to say, "No worries - you are not a machine, what is most important is your health", which worked wonders on my stress levels as well.

**A little note to any budding impresarios out there - this method of support will go MILES and MILES to win over the loyalty of your artists!!!

So after a methodical warm-up, the cords were responding MUCH better than they did in the morning, and I gained a bit of hope. There were many factors on my mind - this is not "Cenerentola", which is a role I have sung numerous times and I can pace my way through that very cautiously as I did in Barcelona a year ago while quite sick. There is not a single place to hide in a concert like this, and so I knew I would have to go for it, or cancel. I did not want to miss the chance to sing in Bilbao, and knowing that the program was well in my body and that I had the support of the orchestra to help me along, I decided to just go for it. Surprisingly, the voice felt stronger as I went along (again, I declare adrenalin to be the most amazing wonder drug on the planet!!!) and while it was perhaps not my greatest concert ever, I gave everything I had. I will also say that the AMAZING hall helped tremendously, making me feel secure that the voice was going, even if it felt weak.

There are SO many elements that make up a concert experience for a performer (the colleagues, the administration/presenters, the hall, the audience, the day, the food, the bed - a million factors, really) but when sick, these factors are amplified exponentially. The fact that I sang in Bilbao is a testament to everyone who helped make it happen! MUCHAS GRAÇIAS!!!

One more concert to go, here in Zaragoza ("Home of the Jota"!!) and then I get a few weeks free from performing, so I suppose the bug was nearly perfect in its timing, if it HAD to invade.

(Sadly, my mind was on other things and I missed the enormous opportunity to photograph the hall - not to mention missing the Guggenheim, but the weather was so bad and rainy, I probably wouldn't have had any luck if I had been able to get out of bed!!!) But I have a few gems of some of the musicians from Les Talens Lyriques from Valladolid. ENJOY: