The Recital

The week of the recital finally arrived. My significant other came a few days before the Big Day and helped me tape the dress rehearsal, which was on Thursday. Afterward, my voice teacher told me not to watch or listen to the dress, worried that I'd over-analyze and try to fix too much, I think. She was about to hand me her notes and make me promise to "only pick four things to do", but then realized I'd still read them all and try to implement them all. So she condensed them for me into a summary version that dealt largely with diction. Evidently, once you get into that hall, you have to triple everything you're doing or people won't understand it. I asked my boyfriend for his opinion - whether he could understand the English pieces. His comment? "You were singing in English?"

Guess what became my focus for the next two days?

Because my boyfriend and I don't often get to see each other, I spent too much time talking after the dress and felt a bit hoarse on Friday. Time for Total Voice Rest. I actually took out a notepad and wrote to communicate for about twelve hours.

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. My voice was okay. I spent the morning getting ready - hair, makeup, the dress, and the all-important vocal warm up. I did my usual five minute warm-up and stopped. No sense singing out my voice before the performance.

We left the apartment at 12:20ish to get to the hall. The management company in my building decided to show my apartment that day, but they were kind enough to give me until 12:30 to leave. I apologized in advance for the mess that I knew would be there, at least in the crammed closets. What can I say? On a performance day, I really don't worry about what is strewn where.

When we got to the hall, my boyfriend dropped me off and went to find parking. I entered the hall only to find my family. I quickly scooted them off since I didn't want to be distracted before singing. They were wonderful to come, and they brought the traditional refreshments for afterward - so nice not to have to worry about that.

I placed my program notes on the music stand in the lobby of the hall and greeted the usher, who is also a singer, so I knew she'd be good. I went to the Green Room to drop off my belongings and then stepped onstage with my accompanist to position the piano. It's always a trick to get it properly centered so that the sound and the lighting are the best. On any stage, there tend to be a few sweet spots.

We finalized things, and then I went to wait in the Green Room. I was slightly nervous but feeling pretty happy and confident overall. Soon, it was time.

The first couple sets went fine with a few minor voice cut-outs. I'm not sure whether that was due to my strong diction focus or whether I was just a bit cloudy with allergies and dryness. Regardless, the audience evidently couldn't hear it in the reverb of the hall. It shows up on the recordings, though.

What I was most surprised about was how confident and in control I felt. For the first time, I felt the audience energy - something I had always considered a bit "woo woo" as one of my professors says. But it was there. And it suddenly became clear to me how to control and shape it along with my performance. My nerves were the "in-line butterflies" that Bobby McFerrin talked about, and I was riding the wave of energy instead of drowning in it.

Then I left the stage for the second time.

I sat down backstage, a bit drained, and the nerves really hit me. I walked out again for the most intimate of my sets, the stillest and rawest one - Desdemona's Willow Song. It is utter grief and despair without the gauze of insanity that Ophelia has. Totally naked. And I was struck with nerves. My breath got high, and they went from what would have been extraordinary to something just mediocre. The Vocalise that came next was a bit stressed because my breath was still high in my body. Happily, it wasn't anything that most amateur audience members would be able to detect, I think. But it was still disappointing.

The second half of the program was more comfortable. I was back to myself. A few mishaps here and there, but largely okay. The encore was a bit of a fiasco, but it was a funny fiasco. In the dress, last minute and without running it, we had changed a four measure piano part to a two measure piano part. Each measure repeats, and this bit shows up throughout as the intro and the interlude to all the verses. Right before we walked out onstage for the performance, the one baritone said "2 measures, not 4, right?" And we all nodded. But sure enough, when we started, I missed it. (I've sung this piece for over ten years, always with the 4 measure interlude.) So our entry was a little shaky. I missed it again on the next verse part and ended up pretending that it was meant to be only the guys singing. Pretty funny overall. Fortunately, at this point, the piece was an extra bit of fun jazz gravy for me.

We had a crowd of about 45 people. The 20-30 person contingent from the main donor group was absent (but for one lovely lady) because the Met HD broadcast of Armida was at the same time. And as one woman said to me, "Well, it was either you or Renee Fleming - Hope or Renee, Hope or Renee - sorry Hope." With two other voice recitals that Saturday and finals the next week, about half the audience skipped out without staying for the reception. But folks managed to say hello and congrats in the ensuing days.

Most remarkably, a couple of dear friends flew a private plane in just for the recital. They stayed for tapas that night with my significant other and me. (My family skedaddled right after the recital because they had a long ways to travel home.)

Overall, it was a really wonderful day. I feel like I've finally exorcised the demons of my college senior recital. And while this one wasn't perfect and definitely fell short of my best hopes for it, at least moments were good. And it was definitely a learning experience. Watching the DVD and listening to the CD, I've learned what I need to do next time. For instance, happiness doesn't read nearly as easily from the stage for me, so I need to really project that more in joyful pieces. Sadness or anger is much easier. And mixing languages in the same group can be tough. And knowing the acoustics of the hall is invaluable - for my voice, the overtones that come through can be richer, but I need to add bright ones for certain halls like this one.

On the upside, a Serbian guitar professor who knew nothing of my diction struggles told me that he didn't even need the program notes; he got every word. Score!

~Hope