A lot of classical musicians roll their eyes when you mention Carmina Burana. “Oh, it’s so silly!” they say. When you mention CarminaBurana to someone
who isn’t super familiar with classical music, they’ll say, “I’m not sure
I know that piece?” To which musicians
always reply, “Oh yes, you do – it’s in, like, every car commercial you’ve ever seen…”
Eight years ago, I was walking down the street in New York City
when my cell phone rang. It was Kim Witman from Wolf Trap Opera who wanted to know if I would be interested in
singing Carmina Burana with the
National Symphony Orchestra in the Filene Center when I got to Wolf Trap in a
few weeks. The funny thing is, when she
called, my knowledge of the piece was limited to the following two facts: The
opening movement was in, like, every
car commercial; and I would have to sing three high D’s. Aside from that, I
really didn’t know anything else about it.
At our first rehearsal here in DC at the Kennedy Center, I realized that I
actually knew more of the piece than I thought I did at the time – I’d heard bits and
bobs of it here and there on various recordings and in, yes, car commercials. It occurred to me that the main reason that I wasn’t so familiar with the piece was a result
of the car commercial thing – I just assumed it wasn’t “serious” music. But
these really beautiful and fascinating moments of music that were new to me
kept occurring left and right in rehearsal, and I found myself completely
charmed and moved by the piece.
Eight years and many performances later, as I’ve been rehearsing
the piece with the NSO again, revisiting this place where I learned this piece this week, I’ve been marveling at how Orff's music hasn’t gotten old for me. I don’t have
much to sing in this piece, so I end up spending most of the concerts listening. After all these times
doing it, the In Trutina still makes
my eyes water up a little but, the Ego
sum abbas still makes me chuckle, and the Blanziflor et Helena still gives me gooseflesh. It’s just extraordinary music. I guess that accounts for its popularity. It’s obvious that the reason it has bled so pervasively throughout our culture
is not because it is cheesy, but because it is so extraordinarily exciting and beautiful.
If you are in the DC area, we perform tonight, as well as Friday
and Saturday at the Kennedy Center. More info is here.
You’ve probably noticed the ad for my debut solo album on Avie at the top
right corner of the blog for the last month or so…the album was released
digitally this week (the physical release was a little earlier this month), so I feel it behooves me to post about it for a moment. Both
Myra and I are really excited about the album, as it represents not only what
was an incredibly important step in our preparation for our Carnegie Hall debut
recital last fall, but also the beginning of a new exciting artistic chapter
for us.
Since the album’s release, the most commonly asked question has
been “Why Britten?” The main reason I was drawn to Britten was that over the past few years, between various recitalings and my
summers exploring vocal chamber music at Marlboro, I've become increasingly amazed
by the power of Britten. I wrote a bit
about my first outing of Winter Words in
a small, Midwestern town in the album’s liner notes, and how I was so surprised
by the positive impact it had on the audience there. I learned many valuable lessons from that
concert about never underestimating an audience, and how emotionally moving
Britten’s music is. Since that concert,
I feel as if I have become a missionary for his music, proselytizing to anyone
who will listen.
Back when Myra and I were given the opportunity to perform a debut
recital in Carnegie Hall, the big question was: what music do we sing? Almost immediately, my obsession with Britten
and his music took over, and the next thing we knew, we had an entire program
that was mostly comprised of his music. As we dug deeper into these pieces during our
rehearsals, we felt that we simply had to record it. In the process of learning
about Britten these past couple of years, we have inevitably become fascinated with
other pieces of his music, and are excited to explore more of it in the
recording studio as we put together the next album!
You can purchase the album on iTunes here, and (if you are an
old-fashioned CD collector, like me) you can order physical copies of the album
at Amazon.com here.
Ten years ago I was just beginning a Master’s degree at
Manhattan School of Music.
Ten years ago my roommate woke me up saying, “oh my god,
you’ve got to see this…”
Ten years ago we sat in our living room together, watching
our tv in shock and horror.
We watched as one of the World Trade Center towers smoked
and burned.
We watched a second plane fly into the second Twin Tower.
We watched as the towers crumbled before our eyes, crushing the people trapped within, clouds of
dust flooding the streets, people running for their lives.
Ten years ago we sat around all day wondering what to do,
where to go.
Ten years ago we climbed to the roof of our building with
some friends who lived upstairs and looked toward downtown.
We watched the giant, thick tower of endless smoke that was
rising into the sky.
We watched fighter jets circle Manhattan in the afternoon
sun.
We watched as our silent, empty streets filled with people,
forced to walk home from work.
Ten years ago we speculated as to who would have done this.
Ten years ago we wondered why this was happening.
Ten years ago we felt under attack.
Ten years ago our world changed.
Ten years ago, I was stunned at the level of violence and
hate humanity was capable of.
Ten years ago, I also marveled at the beauty and compassion
humanity was capable of.
I watched people holding, comforting each other at candlelit
shrines all over New York.
I watched as subway stations became wall-papered with
pictures of loved ones.
I watched strangers smile at each other as they walked by on
the street.
I watched as people committed random acts of kindness in one
of the toughest cities in the world.
I watched as one of the loneliest cities in the world to
live in became a community, united and strong.
Now, after a five-year hiatus in Houston, I am a resident of
New York City again.
Now, I am working at the opposite end of the country in Los
Angeles.
Now, after a decade of desensitizing myself to all that happened, I find myself on the edge of tears as the world reminisces.
Now, I am about to sing my first Mozart Requiem.
Now, I think of all the lives lost on that day and since as
I study Mozart’s unfinished music.
Now, I am grateful that I am immersed in a profession that
is dedicated to realizing the beauty that humanity is capable of.
Now, as the world marks a decade since September 11, 2001, I
find that all I really want to say is this:
I really believe that, all being human, we are all in
essence one.
When we hurt each other, we hurt ourselves.
When we kill each other, we kill ourselves.
I leave you with this excerpt from Handel’s oratorio, Theodora:
Descend, kind Pity, heavenly guest,
Descend, and fill each human breast with sympathizing woe.
That liberty and peace of mind may sweetly harmonize mankind,
One aspect of hopping from one concert hall to another is adjusting to each acoustic once we arrive. While the technique of sound production remains the same, the sensation of singing can differ vastly between venues. What I love about sound check rehearsals is that, in addition to being a chance to feel out the sonic space, it's also a chance for us to tweak things a bit in between performances. Performance always brings out new things that can't occur in the rehearsal room - sound checks allow us to revisit things and see which new things from each performance worked, and which new things didn't. It keeps things fresh and alive, and it's a chance for the team to reconnect, regroup, and refocus.
Sound checks are also an opportunity for me to play with my camera...here are some shots from both Bucharest and Torino...
Our noble Ariodante for this tour, Ann Hallenberg
Ginevra - Roberta Mameli
Dmitry Sinkovsky - Il Complesso Barocco's fearless leader
Dalinda (who is quite mean to me in the opera...) - Ana Quintans (who is incredibly sweet to me in real life!)
A few photos I took as I was wandering around Bucharest trying to stay awake for our concert late Sunday night (the show started at 10:30pm...it's a very strange feeling to begin warming up for a performance at 10:00pm...)
Happy Labor Day weekend to all of you back in the US...
Again, I find myself abroad for an American holiday...this time I am in one of the more exotic places I've ever visited: Bucharest, Romania. We're about to revisit Ariodante in concert at the George Enescu Festival. Our concert is late tomorrow night here:
It looks really beautiful from the outside, I can't wait to see the inside tomorrow. I've been really amazed by this place since we landed here this afternoon. You can really feel that it's a place of transitions - from communist dictatorship to capitalist democracy and from the Middle East to Europe. As I explored a bit this evening, I walked by countless people smoking hookahs in the midst of European architecture that earned this city the nickname "Le Petit Paris", and by run-down, drab communist-era buildings that stood next-door to beautifully restored neo-classical buildings that housed banks and familiar fast-food chains. My initial impression is that it's a place that is trying to figure itself out at the same time as it has a very distinct and strong sense of identity. Culture is so vibrant here - on the way back to my hotel after dinner, I passed a Belgian band giving a concert for people at a street fair near our restaurant; outside the Athenaeum, people were gathering to hear a concert with the Venice Baroque Orchestra; and in the adjacent plaza a documentary about Beethoven's Eroica Symphony was being screened for the crowd gathered there. I'm starting to wish that we had an extra couple of hours to get to know this place a little better before we leave.
It's funny to think that the summer has already passed us by - it has really flown by for me this year. I barely feel like I had a chance to register that it was summertime, aside from a few really uncomfortably hot and sticky (and mosquito-ridden) days in Treviso a week and a half ago. But they say that time flies when you're having fun, and I must concede - it's completely true. I've had an incredible time this summer running from one fantastic musical experience to the next, exploring one new city after the other, and having great times with many friends, both old and new.
I leave you with a few pictures I took of a particularly beautiful Italian sunset in Mondovì the other day. Some of that fun I've been having is playing around with the various camera apps on my iPhone...
