Finito!

I have not one more iota of energy, so this will be short - but so very sweet! These past five days have been some of the most satisfying, glorious and electrifying musical experiences of my life. A million grazie's to the incredible Orchestra of Santa Cecilia, to the fabulous Santa Cecilia Chorus, to their banda, to all the technicians, to the lovely people of Virgin Classics for putting together such a fabulous team, and to the indefatigable Maestro Edoardo Muller. Wow.


I will truly never, ever forget this week.

Bliss....

....is what today was. Pure, wonderful, magical, musical, challenging BLISS.

Loving it!

I'm completely wiped out, so not many words here, just a few snapshots of the happenings.

Recording is such a complex process replete with so many emotions: a myriad of observations about music, myself, and these amazing characters; so much intensity of concentration in a condensed period of time; so much JOY to be given this chance to record music I love so very much. I jog up and down the 2 flights of stairs with the Maestro to the sound booth to listen to our latest "take" and we're both overcome with enthusiasm for the music, bubbling over with explorations of colors and character choices - oh, it really is a marvelous thing. Made even more marvelous by the OUTSTANDING (and I truly mean OUTSTANDING) orchestra. The Accademia di Santa Cecilia is a very special group of musicians, and having their contribution on this disc is an unbelievable gift. They bring a real gravitas to this project, and it's precisely what I was hoping for!!

3 days down, 2 to go - my voice is holding up quite well, but it's my body that gets completely and utterly devastated in this process - which of course means the breath becomes a challenge. This afternoon was rough in that regard, but it's astonishing to me each time I feel that I'm wavering, the energy of the music takes hold, and somehow the strength comes!

Let's hope it holds out 2 more days!!! There's still so much excitement to come!!!

An overall view of the Auditorium where we are recording - a beautiful hour was spent here with the video crew doing a promo for the disc. (Yes, this process is not only about the music!) But it was a lovely day and a gorgeous panorama of the city:


The Maestro at work:


One of the band at work:


After hours:

Recording!!!

So I am hunkered down here in Roma (how I WISH I had free time here to explore!) deep into my next solo recording for Virgin/EMI records. I would like to blog a bit each day about the recording process, repertoire, etc, but I think that might spoil the news of the release. When I'm at liberty to divulge more, I will. I promise.

But suffice it to say I have a BIG, GRUELING, EXCITING and OVERWHELMING project I'm working on during these 5 days, and we got off to a fabulous start today. I'm with the Orchestra of Santa Cecilia here in Rome, and I could not love their playing any more - such a positive group of musicians who have this kind of music deep "in their DNA" as one member of the wind section told me today. It's true - they really do, and it's making this project an IMMENSE pleasure, with musical values running very high.

I was walking with the Maestro to listen to one of our takes, and we were both like little kids, so thrilled to be a part of this project, so honored to be making music together - so overwhelmed at the task at hand! But as with everything, one step at a time - one note at a time, and all the spare moments are grabbed to rest and keep the mind focused!!

So this week will be quiet from me here on the blog (but not in the studio!). I know I still owe a report on the Lieberson piece, and I will get to it - again, I promise! Please don't take my silence for displeasure of the piece - quite the contrary. It was an incredibly beautiful, moving experience for me!!! But I just need the time to sit with my thoughts on it!

Not this week .... too many notes to think about!!!

Wish me luck!!!

The beauty known as "Flicka"

Frederica von Stade. One hardly knows where to begin.

There is this:



Or this:



Those seem like obvious places to start, but they paint anything but the whole picture. As I was starting out (way back at the infamous Wichita State University!), the opera bug bit me hard, and I didn't quite know what I was getting myself into. To me, singing was MUCH EASIER than the Beethoven sonatas I was slugging my way through on the piano - after all, you just open up and sing the pitches, right? Well, my naive declaration that vocal scales were simpler than Czerny exercises soon crumbled to pieces as I tried to warble my way without cracking through Cherubino's arias. They didn't LOOK that hard on paper - so what was the problem?

As every good vocal student does, I waded my way through countless interpretations of the arias, but in the end, there was only one that I ever wanted to listen to - and dammit, she made it sound so EASY! My anger was short lived, because I learned so much from watching her - and in the end it wasn't the lovely legato, or easy transition through those damned registers - it was her sheer JOY of singing this music. It was her honesty of every single moment. When she was singing, I wasn't watching Frederica von Stade - I was living and breathing with her Cherubino. She simply stood there. She trusted the music. She let it move through her and go out into the world, asking for nothing in return. I was hooked.

Fast forward about 6 or 7 years, and she and Sir Thomas Allen are starring together at Houston Grand Opera in "A little night music." After her devastating interpretation of "Send in the clowns" - where flowing tears were in attendance for every performance, I simply didn't have the courage to speak to her. But destiny stepped in as I was barging my way out the door for a quick lunch break, and nearly knocked her down a flight of stairs - of course, she wasn't alone: she had a huge grocery bag full of bagels and cream cheese for her cast and crew. Of COURSE she did!!!

Well, in GRAND style, I chose that exact moment, as she's precariously balancing her groceries, to blurt out at the speed of light in the most incomprehensible "english" how much I loved her and adored everything she's ever sung and that I think she's amazing and that she's my hero, and "Would you mind signing my Barber score???" Yeah. I played it verrrry cool. And naturally, because she's Flicka, "She said, 'oh sure, honey!" And she did. (I can't remember, but I PRAY I had the presence of mind to hold her groceries for her while she signed.)

Well, here comes the "pinch me" part: since then, I've sung the Squirrel to her Enfant in San Francisco, shared drinks with her and my father after a concert in Kansas City (after which my father promptly declared he was in love. He's not the first man - nor will be the last - to fall for her, I'm sure!), sang Sister Helen to her achingly beautiful Mother in scenes from Dead Man Walking - one of my most treasured memories, and recorded some Mother-Daughter duets (also by Jake!) that should be on the shelves within the year. I recorded them with her just after my Mother had passed away, and I still can't listen to them without falling apart.

So when the San Francisco Opera Guild called to ask me to come pay tribute to Flicka, I didn't care what I would have had to do to get there - it was an event I wasn't going to miss. I sang for her, and can't think of any greater honor for me, getting to thank her personally for her influence on me, and countless others.


As I blew her a kiss at the end, I was terribly moved. For the thing that is never publicized about Flicka, is the VAST amount of Charity work that she does. One of her big causes is the Sophia Project which helps single mothers with children battle homelessness. She tirelessly helps young singers, does benefit concerts and lends her name to so many worthy projects. She also is one of the classiest, most generous people I have ever met. In her speech to the Guild that evening, she thanked by name, all the planners and participants and then spent a large part of her thank you asking for prayers for a young mezzo who is in the fight of her life against cancer. She has a beautiful way of putting all of this into perspective.


So in the end, no words will suffice to sum up the influence Flicka has had on the opera family, and on the world around her. She is an inspiration, a shining light, and a JOY to call "friend".

There's no place like home!

Let's go back in time, shall we? Tis the fall of 1987, and I'm starting my undergraduate degree in Music Education at the Wichita State University, a short 3-hour drive down the fast-food littered Interstate-35 from Kansas City, the original "Dirty Dancing" was the big hit of the day, and dry cereal from the dorm cafeteria was the safest menu option of the night. My roommate, chosen at random by beautiful chance, and I hit if off immediately, and lo and behold, she was a wonderfully talented vocal performance major who quickly turned into my best friend. Imagine the serendipity of being able to sing along to the entire Dirty Dancing soundtrack in two-part harmony while driving to the mall in my Plymouth Arrow! Imagine, also, the glee of two young Kansas girls jumping for joy at being accepted into the undergraduate vocal group, "Chamber Singers". (Little did we know the audition was mere perfunctory routine - we were in if we had a heartbeat, but that didn't diminish our elation one bit.) And so began my intensive, unforgettable college education!

I soaked up every musical experience (while skipping a few of those educational "psych" classes along the way), and the inspiration surrounded me at every corner: a demanding, exceptional choral teacher, a glamorous, spiritual voice teacher, and the man who directed me in my first paces on the operatic stage and has remained my guiding mentor all these years. But let's be clear: I was not a star. I was most definitely a reliable chorus member to be sure, securing the occasional solo (the highlight being Aaron Copland's "In the beginning" - oh how I hope to do that piece again some day!), and served the part of the "2nd" 2nd mezzo in our opera productions (singing the second casts of the Mother in "Hansel and Gretel", Marcellina in "Nozze di Figaro" and Katisha in the "Mikado" - oh YES, I can't wait to sing her again someday, as well!) So I was solid, yes, but not a "star" by any stretch of the imagination. I only say this not to ask you to "cue the violins", but simply to put into context from where I have come. I never want to belabor the point that "they didn't think I was great" - I only want to show that I was a "slow and steady wins the race" kind of performer, and all the while I "lost" the big roles to another singer, it simply kept showing me that I still had work to do - I'm convinced it's the reason I don't shy away from hard work while in this career today, and why I feel the job is never actually done.

Fast forward a few (be nice here!) years, and I walk on to the stage of the Wichita Grand Opera to applause - applause coming deep from the hearts of so many dear people. That was a lovely feeling. But it wasn't so much about me, truth be told. The week in Wichita was the chance for me to come home and share with all the huge network of teachers and supporters and friends all rewards of the work I began way back during my time at WSU. I feel them with me every step of the way - the people who gave me my foundation, who instilled in me the responsibility that comes with making music, and the respect for colleagues and for the audience. It was born here in Wichita, and to share that with so many dear people - well, it was a real gift to me.


It was also a blast to follow up my Vienna debut of the same opera with a cast there in Wichita of one seasoned veteran (the beaming, wonderful Stefano de Beppo pictured here), and the rest: Barbiere Virgins! How fun to help introduce them to the joys of this piece, suggest how to perhaps avoid a few of the pitfalls, and to watch their discovery of this magnificent 3 hour show come to life! It was a real pleasure and I enjoyed every moment of it.

But I suppose if we're going to go to the real root of the situation, it was truly born at St Ann's grade school in Prairie Village, Kansas, where I spent the first 8 years of my school-going life. Yes, there were nuns (and I'll tastefully avoid writing in some of their nicknames here, as it might be nsfw!), there were cliques, and there were tears - mostly over Eric, my first, achingly tragic love. Sigh. But it's also where my love for music was born. (I had to have SOME sort of outlet for all the drama I felt over losing Eric to Peggy!!!)

I returned after my trip to Wichita to the 4th grade classroom of St. Ann's where my sister currently teaches music to all 450 kids: she's a real hero in my book. She invited me to visit on their last day of school and answer a few of their questions: "Have you ever broken glass?", "How many languages do you speak", "...And my mom's, um, well, um like her parents, my um, grandparents, um, well they like, um went to Italy once."

It was fascinating indeed to be among the shrunken walls once again, but I loved challenging them to see who of us could hold a note the longest, and inviting them to sing along with me to "Somewhere over the Rainbow". We posed for pictures, naturally - one of the proper sort:


And the next with their best Opera Faces:


The next afternoon I was busy at work in my home, when I was distracted by a very persistent helicopter overhead. A quick glance down the street showed 5 fire engine trucks - all with sirens blaring. "Time to grab the camera and join the festivities," I thought, and sure enough I arrived on the scene just in time to see our valiant KC firefighters lifting a stranded painter over the top of the 15-story building next door to me. Who dares to say life in Kansas is dull???


And in keeping with that theme, I went with a number of dear friends to one of the greatest shows in town - and a favorite haunt of mine, not only to pick up performance tricks, but to also have a ball with my camera:


Yes, it's Missie B's, the premiere drag show in the midwest, at the very least! This lady tore it up singing Jennifer Holiday's "And I am telling you", and I was officially blown away!


Without a doubt, this lady knows how to entertain and leave nothing behind on the stage! Brava!

So my time home, of which there is no place like it, was wonderful, topped off only by great visits with family. These times re-fuel me and keep my feet firmly on the soil, and I treasure them. Having my trip coincide with high school graduations and first missing teeth? Well, that is truly priceless!

Reason #4,567 why I love Italy:

At the market today I was shopping for our arugula, insalata, pinoli, etc, as well as all the FRESH (Oh Happy Days!) ingredients to make guacamole for the poor Italians who, while they do so very many things well, fail miserably when they serve some vaguely green goop that they call "guacamole".

So I had the most lovely exchange in Italian with the lady choosing all my greens for me:

"Tell me, Amore, what can I get for you?"

I listed the goods.

She DELICATELY puts the lettuce in a bag for me and instructs:

"Be VERY careful with this lettuce - it is extremely delicato!"

I smiled just realizing that in many other cities one rarely finds this kind of pride and attention dedicated to a head of lettuce, and it shows so much of why I love Italy! She wanted to be SURE that my lettuce arrived unbruised in my salad bowl, as truly, it really IS the only way to enjoy your salad!

Then she followed up with,

"Amore - let me give you a melone (i.e. cantelope). It is perfect and you will die of ecstasy when you eat it. Eat it tonight, or tomorrow - you can eat it a few days from now, but if you eat it tonight, you will never be the same."

Time for me to sign off and crack open that melon!

UPDATE: It was heavenly!!!!

"Vienna waits for you"

To anyone who has read one of those "this is your life" articles about me, it may not come as a surprise to hear that I am a huge Billy Joel fan; in fact, I still dream about singing back up for him at Madison Square Garden some day. As habit dictates, I blasted his album "The Stranger" over my loud speakers at home recently while tending to the painting of new dry wall, the bottomless filing of programs and cards and photo copied music, the sneeze-inducing dusting of all the forgotten nooks and crannies, etc - you know, all the glamorous parts of a short homestay - and as his song "Vienna" rocked me through yet another pile of crumpled receipts, I found myself really listening to the lyrics with which I had sung along countless times, while never actually having had a context in which to put them. Well, finally I did...these lyrics which have accompanied me through thick and thin finally hit home:

"Slow down, you crazy child
and take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile
it's all right, you can afford to lose a day or two
When will you realize,..Vienna waits for you?"

Ah yes ... Vienna was waiting for me! Who knew???



Billy? I took your advice, and I thank you for it! It so happened that my 2 days of rehearsals (yes, that's not a typo: 2 days for my Vienna State Opera Debut, which is apparently nothing out of the ordinary!) straddled the Easter Weekend, so we worked a bit on Thursday, had Good Friday off, Saturday brought an afternoon rehearsal, Easter Sunday and Monday left me free to roam the town, and then the opening on Tuesday! I wasn't particularly happy at first to have so much free time on the job when I could have been in NY with my husband, but as luck would have it, the time was a perfect excuse to keep that phone off the hook and disappear for that little while.



I found myself on my new favorite pasttime: one of those convenient rental bikes popping up in all the forward-looking cities of Europe (come on, America - let's get with the program!), enjoying the first flickers of spring, taking in the beautiful fresh air, and enjoying the imposed silence! Ah, it was heavenly! Apparently Vienna HAD been waiting for me!!

But there was also work to do, although I was most happy to play the recreational tourist! It was quite astonishing, to say the very least, to step into the 352nd performance of this production of the Barber of Seville, which was first seen before I was born: to think of the singers who have come before me in this production, in these costumes, and with this orchestra overwhelms the mind; to step onto the soil of this city knowing it has been walked by the greatest minds and artists the world has ever seen overwhelms the heart; and to take "my turn" and meet the Vienna Philharmonic and the Vienna State Opera public for the very first time singing those ever familiar syllables, "Una voce poco fa" could understandably make the voice shake! Happily, Rosina is a good friend, and she carried me through the nerves and the excitement with all the Spanish will power she possesses, and I was one grateful mezzo! In a way, this kind of performance is exciting, because you must stay on your toes at all times (which should always be the case, I suppose - this particular situation just demands a different kind of concentration!), and to be sure, the sense of improvisation is thrilling as an artist. (However, I suppose that in the end, I am one who would choose more rehearsal so those elusive nuances can be somehow achieved....)

A glorious week in Vienna was gifted to me, and the thought that I was so very fortunate to be on that stage never left my mind. It's one of those moments I wished my parents had seen.

But I lucked out as a plane was flying over a statue I was photographing, and it took my breath away as I realized it was the perfect depiction of how I had felt during my time there: soaring and free with the sky being the only limit in sight!



Next up: my Wichita recap!