Celebrating Rossini!!!

It is with great pleasure, great astonishment, and great excitement that I introduce to you my next disc:

Rossini Arias: Colbran, the Muse...



I'm enjoying what is being billed as my "Rossini Year", having started with Rosina in London this summer, bringing her back for the opening this Saturday back at the MET with a brilliant cast, this disc launches on Tuesday here in the States (soon elsewhere, as well!), and finishing the season with my first Elena's in Donna del Lago. There are lots of little black notes in my immediate future, and hopefully yours as well, as I would LOVE for you to take a listen to the disc, enjoy the genius that is Rossini - inspired by his admiration and love for Isabella - and help me celebrate this most special of composers!!!

And, in a short health update - for the record, I just finished the final dress rehearsal of Barbiere here at the MET, and I finished standing on both legs. That felt GREAT!!!!

Hoping everyone's opera-going season is off to as great a start as mine!

Oh those strings!

My only day of rehearsal with the LSO and Maestro Gergiev for my debut as Marguerite in Berlioz's masterpiece "Damnation de Faust" just came to an end. I wish the clock had not marched forward (even if my jet lag was begging differently!). Gergiev's complete mastery of this piece, in sublime combination with the orchestra's innate and uncanny way with Berlioz's near demented, yet utterly enthralling music was nearly too much for me. How those strings can find SUCH a clear unison, such a sizzling warmth in the most miniscule of piano's, I'll never know, but I most certainly did not want it to end!!! This is the sign of a brilliant orchestra to me: when the whole is absolutely integrated and seamless, and yet the moment a solo passage steps up, you know you're listening to the best in the world take the lead for that brief moment.

This past year alone I have worked with some of the greatest Maestri in the world, and Gergiev's intense, yet subtle influence confirms for me my strong desire for a great Maestro: someone who INSPIRES.

Thank you Maestro, thank you wonderful LSO, and thank you wonderful colleagues - what a JOY and a privilege to make music together!

PS - most sadly, I don't believe any radio broadcast is planned; this is one for the ticket holders - my apologies to those of you outside of the hall...

Musings

It would appear to be official:


October 6th sees the arrival of MY NEXT DISC, which I'm IMMENSELY excited about, to say the very least.

Welcome to the world of Isabella Colbran and Gioachino Rossini, prima donna and celebrated composer: lovers, spouses, perhaps even revolutionaries. I delved into their world for a wonderful week in Rome and spent time with the wicked, the wonderful, the noble and the sorrowful ladies which he created for his muse: a prima donna of the highest rank who brought her immense range and fierce temperament to the stage.

The task was daunting, to put it mildly, but the joy of singing these roles with the amazing playing of the Academia di Santa Cecilia orchestra was off the charts for me. Oh, how I adore these ladies: Elena (Donna del Lago), Anna (Maometto II), Elisabetta, Semiramide, Desdemona (Otello), and ARMIDA!

I do hope that it will say something about Rossini which is often overlooked - his penchant for melody and capacity to highlight the profound strength and vulnerability of women. (And in case anyone is wondering where Rosina or Cenerentola are, "Una voce poco fa" will be available as an exclusive download for i-tunes! "Non più mesta" may just appear on the next one!!!)

Speaking of Cenerentola, as well, thanks to Chris for the notice about this:


Finally!! The Cenerentola Juan Diego and I recorded live in Barcelona in January of 2007 is coming out on DVD, it would appear, at the end of October! See? There! Your Christmas shopping list is filling up, already!

The excitement builds!

Anything is possible!!!

I seem to remember, vaguely, taking a vacation recently! Ah, yes - I was in Alaska on the high seas watching ASTONISHING feats and sights such as this that thrilled me to my core; and now that the season is back in full swing, and I have roughly a ga-zillion things on my plate, I needed to sit back and remember what I was doing 2 weeks ago, to find that beautiful stress-free place!

Thank you for indulging me!!! I feel much better!

It's great to be back at work, on both feet (!), settling into The Big Apple, learning a new role, plotting for the big CD launch (more soon, I promise - but if you live in the States, October 6 is THE DAY!!!), seeing old friends and colleagues and enjoying the hectic life in which I find myself. So hectic, my blogging has suffered, but I'll get back in the groove soon!

Off to London this weekend, then back here to NY/Seville!

(And yes, I really did see that whale catapult herself out of the water. Still stunned by it, in fact!)

Uniting

It's difficult to be in New York City today. 8 years ago our world changed in the most catastrophic way possible. Time stood still. Shock set in. Horror engulfed us all. I don't know of anyone whose lives were not deeply, eternally affected by the morbid decision of a few men.

And then there was the shift. Once the breath slowly returned to us all, hands started to be held. Heads leaned on shoulders. Tears were wiped away, only to return too quickly. And then, out of the vast and indescribable stillness: voices were raised. Music seemed to be the one balm which could offer a modicum of comfort. That breath, which was stolen from us so violently, found its path again through singing. Unity happened.

It's not only the memory of the terror that saddens (and still shocks) me - but instead, there seems to be a deeper sadness hovering over today: the inconceivable, unforgivable loss of that unity. The sadness seems to mix with shame and anger as I watch the division deepen in this country and around the world. How did we dare to allow that to happen?

As I was in Alaska - beautiful, astonishing, miraculous Alaska - it dawned on me how very, very small we are. And yet, we are also immense as well when we unite. Funny, that.

I must be naive, because in my mind it is crystal clear and so utterly simple. Isn't it?

My thoughts are with the world today, especially those who lost their precious loved ones to the hands of hatred and ignorance. (And that includes all those lives lost in the continued , seemingly endless aftermath of 9/11...)

I'm bad - I know: no updates about Aix (Magical, and "more cheese, please"!!!), or Salzburg ("Hey Mozart, I finally made it!!!), or "the leg" (I'm WALKING!) - but I'll get caught up at some point.

But I'm also good: I've had 2 whole entire weeks at home, with my husband. AT THE SAME TIME!!! That means both he and I, in our home, AT ONCE! That almost never happens. I think the current term is "taking a staycation", and I'll tell you - it's the only place I want to be during my free time! It was heavenly: I baked, I rejuvenated, I put weight on my right foot, I eased back into yoga, I gazed out my windows, I rehabbed, I saw my family, laughed with my nieces and nephews, I breathed. It was so very, very good. It made getting back on the plane all too difficult, mostly because it happened all too soon. Happily, there is Haydn and Handel waiting for me - with the most wonderful of musicians: The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightment.

But there is also other work to be done. I've been pouring over the edits for MY NEXT DISC!!!! I may have written about this before, that editing truly is a grueling, exasperating process: upon first listen, all I can hear is all the terrible things that I hate and don't do well. Not one single note sounds good to me. Then I have to take a deep breath, talk myself down off the ledge and remind myself that no one is perfect. Then I have to detach myself from the incredible emotion I feel for this music and be extremely business like and give my comments about balance, selections, etc. You see, in the beginning of my recording life, I was learning simply how to stand in front of a microphone and not croak - that's a daunting challenge in itself. But as I've learned over the years to relax a bit, I find more ways to give choices of color and mood - so that in the end we can take "the ice cold one" vs. the "mildly angry one", etc. For me, this luxury doesn't happen on stage, where you get only one shot to express. In the studio, you can experiment and take different kinds of risks - while some pay off, and others don't - it is a luxury. So the editing process for me is now about choosing the colors and tone that I want to set for each character or aria, and knowing that the choices will be permanent, it's a bit stressful, to say the least.

However, the great news is that I feel that this is the disc I wanted to make: it says the things I wanted to say about this single composer; it stretched me in the most incredibly rewarding ways; it taught me a great deal about singing, as well as about emoting; and above all, every single note (and there were a lot of them!) was an unabashed thrill to sing. I think there are a few unexpected things to discover on this disc - and while it may raise a few eyebrows, I've never really been one to back away from taking a risk. We'll see how it turns out!


(Dealing with crutches and wheel chairs didn't leave me much room for my camera and various lenses, so I'm a bit short on the photo department. However, I did get very lucky with this shot of a crazy lightening storm last week in NY, and this last photo was one of my favorite from my time in Rome.)

29 tumors? They haven't got a chance against a song.

In case any one out there is in need of an enormous dose of inspiration (which includes me, because I am officially OVER this cast on my leg!), please, please, PLEASE give yourself a gift and take a few, short minutes to read this astonishing article about Zheng Cao, an against-all-odds mezzo soprano.

I am a believer.

"Early on, I said that these cancer cells have no chance in my body because every cell is already filled up with music."

Please feel free to donate to the walk taking place in San Francisco on Sunday, and then just sit with her accomplishment for a bit - makes anything seem possible, doesn't it....?

Lessons learned

I don't know that I've ever felt quite as much relief for a show closing as I did with the finish of this most memorable and unbelievably special "Barbiere" in London last week. I truly have never experienced anything quite like it, and now that I've had some time to reflect on all that happened, the exhaustion has indeed set in!! I've taken this past week to rest up, regroup and rest! (Did I mention that I've been resting?) I had no idea how many different muscles (upper back/shoulders) would be involved in singing from a wheelchair, as I was left feeling as if I had run a marathon after each show. But sore muscles aside, it was one helluva ride!!!

Let me be clear: without question it is a ride I hope never, ever to repeat - hence my game plan to dive full-force into physical therapy and resume my yoga regime enthusiastically as soon as I possibly can. (Although I have found that there are a number of yoga postures I can actually accomplish with a bit of imagination!) But having said that, it is an experience I wouldn't trade for anything in the world: it has only confirmed in my heart and soul how important the experience of theater can be (both for performer and audience member) and how necessary it is in our lives.

From a personal standpoint, if you had told me one month ago that I would have this particular challenge ahead, I would never have thought that I could do it. And yet, when the challenge confronted me, in a split-second (that damned split-second!), there was no question for me whether to continue or not. Perhaps it's the Midwesterner in me that simply knew I had a job to do, so I said to myself "shut up and just do whatever you have to do to get the job done, already!" To me, that wasn't heroic - it was simply me doing the job I was hired to do. But you throw into the mix the support of so many people - the amazing staff of the Royal Opera House who treated me to the very best of care, the astonishing cast who didn't blink a single eye in rearranging the show to accommodate a Rosina on Wheels, the brazilliant fans who supported me with such gusto and VERVE welcoming me with open arms for each performance, my tireless friends who helped to keep my morale so very high, and not at all the least, my heroic husband who kept me laughing non-stop through this all, literally carrying me through this - and all of a sudden I could do things I never thought possible.

(My exceptional cast who truly helped carry me through each show)

Perhaps I shouldn't admit this, but it's the simple truth: aside from the pain and inconvenience, I had a real ball with this. The first night that I entered into the stage on wheels, I had NO idea of what to expect, of how to play it, or how it would turn out - the truth is, none of us did. That very first night every single, solitary thing was improvised by the entire cast. (I think that was only possible because #1 - we had rehearsed this show impeccably exploring all the individual intentions and interactions profoundly, #2 - this is a cast who knows this show inside and out, and #3 - every single member of the cast is a stage animal with real theatrical instincts, so we could actually continue to tell the story of these characters, even while completely making things up on the spot.) After the throw of my first dart at the start of "Una voce poco fa", I felt immediately that the audience was going to be with me, and that somehow, this was going to work.

From that moment on, I grew in confidence and made the decision that there was no point in trying to hide the fact that Rosina was on wheels - I simply had to run with it, so to speak. And within the very first phrases of that famous aria, I felt IMMEDIATELY how trapped Rosina actually is. It had never been quite so literal before, but I used that and felt it and played it, and in the end, I fell in love with this particular version! (But let me be clear - I never EVER need to repeat it!!) The overwhelming sense of independence I felt in wheeling myself around, the deep sense of frustration of being trapped and unable to join in the games on stage, and the immense sense of freedom I had as I pulled myself onto the stage in the final moments of the opera, all contributed to making this girl come very much alive to me, and I hope to always carry her around with me.

From a very technical standpoint, once the run carried on, I began to observe how I was singing differently. Yes, I had to pay attention to my support in a different way since I was seated for the entire show, but I realized that because I could rely less on my physical body to "act" for me, I had to resort more and more to simply the voice. Back in my AVA days in Philadelphia, we had a brilliant monster of a Maestro who tormented us with unmatchable expectations and demands. (He worked with Serafin in the "good ol' days" of bel canto with Callas, etc. HA! As if there is an "etc" with Callas! Did I really write "Callas, etc"?!?!) BUT, he would spend literally HOURS on a single page of recitative until we got all the myriad colors to literally burst off the page. "ACT WITH YOUR VOICE NOT WITH YOUR HANDS!!!" It was exhausting, demoralizing work, ("Can't I do ONE phrase right? WHAT MORE DOES HE WANT FROM ME? BLOOD!?!?!?"), and yet in the end, to this day, I can hear his voice in my head as I prepare those recits, and I drew on that voice while in my chair to concentrate even further my "vocal acting" to bring this character to life.

That freedom of acting with the voice is of paramount importance to me and one of the million reasons of why I love what I do. But I also have to say, in the interest of full disclosure, I REVELED in the opportunity to find ways to "act" with my trusty chair and with my enforced confinement. "How to give adolescent attitude with one push of the wheel?" "How to show astonishment with only the pivot of a wheel?" "Normally I should fall to the floor at this point in utter shock, so how I can I accomplish that in this chair?" I loved solving those problems and found that indeed I had a full range of possibilities to play with - and that kind of challenge is something that really gets my blood pumping!


(With my dear friends, Bill & Kevin, who happily took the cast out for a day of sightseeing!)

So in an odd way I will miss my "Rosina on Wheels" and return to "Rosina in Heels" soon enough (although they will likely be modified heels to start with!). But the lessons I've learned from this experience will hopefully fuel all of my performances, and the utter kindness of people has put a permanent smile on my face. How FABULOUS to be a part of a "good news story" in these particular days of news of the other sort.

For now, I've been soaking up the lovely weather here in Aix-en-Provence (even if I'm a bit sick that I can't get out and go hiking or swimming or do a major photo excursion here, but perhaps it's just as well I'm simply resting up.). I'm ready to revisit this amazing journey of "Furore" once again here in the place where Dajanira was born for me 5 years ago - how lovely to return to this spot and bring her journey with me full circle. And then what I expect to be an amazing road trip through Austria (my first!) to debut in Salzburg, which is beyond a dream come true for me. Whether I'll be seated or standing on my one good leg, I don't yet know - I need to see how I feel on the day, try some various positions in rehearsal and play it a bit by ear (something I've gotten quite good at!) But I can tell you it is far easier to sing sitting down than to sing on only one leg - I haven't found way to locate the support I need in that way just yet - most especially for this challenging concert. I'm still not allowed to put any weight on my delicate right fibula, but I'll get there!!


Finally, I want to simply thank each and every one of you for your support - whether in applause, in writing, with flowers or cards - it has touched me deeply. It doesn't escape me how fortunate I am to have had such an active flood of support - goodness knows there are countless people that face difficulties and don't have this kind of outpouring - so I consider myself beyond blessed. Your words have meant so very much to me, and in the end, it is quite true that you are the reason I sing. Thank you.