Broadway comes to Philly

The weekend was chock-full of music with the last of the 'Carmina' performances, a couple rehearsals and a fantastic concert with Audra McDonald and Barbara Cook at the Kimmel (attending, not singing) on Sunday night.

Even though the concert was in Verizon Hall, both singers worked to make the event intimate. At times it almost felt a cocktail party with two brilliant singers casually trying out some new songs; words were occasionally forgotten, songs were started over and witty banter reigned throughout. The vocal polish and interpretive mastery would convince you otherwise, however.

It is interesting to hear two gifted singers at very different points in their respective careers. McDonald, at 36, is truly in her prime and sounded it. Every tricky phrase was negotiated beautifully and the range of vocal colours was stunning. The voice sounded even richer than it does on record and the microphone was used as an enhancement not a crutch. Diction was exquisite and every word was put across with supreme confidence. She stayed firmly within the Broadway canon with songs by Sondheim, Rodgers and Hammerstein and a few "new Broadway" composers. Her natural exubernace and enthusiam for this music came across strongly. McDonald was at her most powerful in "When Did I Fall In Love" from 'Fiorello', skillfully building the song in intensity and drama. Her more intimate side was on display in "I Won't Mind" by Jeff Blumenkrantz. Is there anything this woman can't sing?

Barbara Cook, at 79, is at the other end of a long and distinguised Broadway career. The voice is still fairly well produced with the exception of an occasional dry patch here and there. Cook has lived with this tradition for a very long time and gave richly nuanced accounts of familiar songs. "Surrey With the Fringe On Top" from 'Oklahoma' was transformed from a song about a pleasant ride in the country to a boastful song about a "pimped up" ride. "This Nearly Was Mine" was taken from a lyrical aria to an inward reflection on lost love. Cook also took on Sondheim, with two songs from 'Into the Woods' about finding a way in a turbulent world. Perhaps the most striking moment of the night came with her first encore as she turned her mic off to sing "We'll Be Together Again". Rather than diminishing her power, this bold move brought the audience even closer.

The arrangements mostly by McDonald's longtime music director Ted Sperling, who also played piano, were always subtle and tight and the backing jazz trio supported the singers very well. Cook and McDonald also sang a number of jazzy duets throughout the evening which served as welcome breaks from the more serious moments. The concert concluded somewhat surprisingly with a smart arrangement of some American patriotic songs. I'm not the biggest fan of things like this but it was done tastefully and with the same respect given to the other classic American songs of the evening. In a concert that was a celebration of American popular song, why not end with a salute to America herself?

The conductors have their day on 'Choralation'

I've tinkered a bit with my recent post about the role of a conductor in an ensemble. I decided I was being overly harsh towards conductors when what I was really going for was a comparison of small and large group situations and how we can apply chamber music philosophy to symphonic-size music. As I have said, it is a complex issue and I think my philosophy will continue to evolve over time.

For a stimulating and insightful view on conducting from the conductor's perspective listen to this or read this.

Link

Halfway Home

Here's a link to a glowing review of this past weekend's 'Carmina' performances with PA Ballet. Five down, four to go!

Ballet

This weekend is notable for me for a couple of reasons: My first 'Carmina Burana' and my first time accompanying a ballet company.

I've really enjoyed watching the dancers work up close and realise how many parallels there are between what they do and what we do. In order to create something seemingly effortless, there are tons of muscles and years of training at work. Those dancers were really working, but I'm sure out in the house it looked incredibly smooth and easy. Also, the ensemble dancers have to operate in much the same fashion as choral singers. They are constantly watching, listening and making minute adjustments as the piece unfolds in order to create unanimity. It's interesting that they are fully responsible for making it work in performance and don't need a "conductor" to facilitate in performance.

Being a ballet dancer must also be kind of like being a running back in the NFL: a physically punishing position with a short prime. I'm sure dancers probably mature in much the same way as running backs, relying less on speed and pure physical prowess and more on mental strength, imagination and economy of motion as careers progress. (There was an interesting article in the New Yorker a few weeks back about now former NY Giants running back Tiki Barber which confirms this).

This is a new 'Carmina' production for the PA Ballet and from my limited vantage point (proscenium box) it looks pretty cool. I find myself watching the dancers instead of the conductor (This is one situation where it is essential to watch the conductor, contrary to the last post I wrote. When the men and women of the choir are standing 75 feet apart on opposite sides of the stage with the orchestra in between, frequently changing tempo and meter, watching the conductor is probably the best bet to get it all together. That's not to say that listening isn't imperative though.)

'Carmina' has some really lovely music but it is what we singers call a "scream fest", i.e. lots of high, loud singing over full orchestra. The fact that there's only 35 of us doesn't make it any easier. Some of those tunes just stick in your head though...

Conductors are (largely) superfluous

Before I get fired from all of the very necessary (from a financial standpoint at least) concerts I have coming up in the next few months, allow me to elaborate on what I think is an important but complex issue.

I come from a very conductor-centric universe, having attended a fabulous music college which had choral singing and conducting at its core. In my undergraduate, I had many memorable and profound musical experiences which I would not trade for anything. One of my main regrets about my time there is that we never did anything without a conductor. Even small ensembles of four to ten still used a conductor, which to me seems slightly ridiculous. I understand it is important to help train conductors, but at the same time, singers could stand to grow from taking full responsibility for the success of the music. For young students it is important to learn fundamentals and to gain knowledge from an experienced conductor, but it is also important to help students to grow as individuals and develop a unique musical personality.

I have studied conducting off and on for awhile and have, at various points, considered devoting my life to the craft. I have a great respect for many conductors; for the insight, scholarship and experience they bring to music making. But how, if at all, is what they are doing up there in front of the choir having any impact on how I’m performing? This is one of the great mysteries of making music with a conductor. I can take purely technical things from a conductor's gesture, i.e. tempo changes, cutoffs but also less tangible things such as breath, phrasing and emotion. Still, if I feel I am getting nothing more from a conductor than a metronomic representation of the music, I am more inclined to tune out and stop watching. Watching the conductor is only one way of getting everyone in the ensemble together.

When I went overseas I entered a musical world that was, in many ways, the antithesis of my previous conductor-as-god experiences, finally singing in smaller ensembles without a conductor. If you are singing in a group with four other people, you can decide things democratically and, more importantly, use your ears to guide you. If each singer is really listening, minute adjustments can be made as the music unfolds. After some practice with this, you don’t need to spend valuable rehearsal time discussing quaver rests, vowels and tempo. Rehearsal time can be spent largely on interpretation and working with text, much in the way a singer would work with a coach. What a concept: using your ears and being responsive to body language can fix most problems right then and there! Breaths and cutoffs magically come into focus, tempo sorts itself out and tuning just locks into place.

These principles are easy enough to implement with five singers, but why shouldn't the same approach work for a group of 12, 24 or even 30? If everyone in the group is aware of what every other singer is doing, the conductor can assume the role of collaborator and function almost as another member of the ensemble rather than a dictator. Gesture can become more interpretive, flexible and spontaneous instead of purely metrical and repetitive. There is more give and take between the conductor and the singers, with almost a dialogue occuring between them. So why is this sometimes lacking? The problem lies in part with the singers: they are largely taught to be passive, awaiting instruction rather than taking initiative for the success or failure of the music. Instead of teaching singers to fear the wrath of a conductor, why not take a step back and let them do the work? Giving the singers the tools to listen and interact musically only makes the conductor’s job easier. I believe that with the right foundations in place a conductor of 100 would have to do no more than a conductor of 12 in order to get the desired effect.

This brings up another issue, conductor ego. To have a healthy conductor-singer relationship requires some giving up of control and trust from both parties. An egomaniacal conductor will never really make collaborative music with his or her ensemble. One of my biggest pet peeves as a singer is when a conductor implores singers to "just watch me". To me, this translates in effect as "this will not work unless you do what I say. I am the decider of how this will go". "Just watching" is only one little piece of the puzzle, an attempt at a fix-all solution which in the end falls short. Using my eyes and ears and being aware of what's going on around me ends up being more helpful than a conductor. A conductor can yell at a choir until her or she is blue in the face, but one simple word would quickly solve the problem: Listen.