You CAN go home again...sometimes

On Friday, June 18th, I had the honor of performing at the Joe Sugar Memorial concert at G.W. Hewlett High School. MY Alma mater! Joining me onstage were Leah Wool (shown in the picture), Seth Rudetsky, my former chorus teacher, my former band director, the former piano accompanist for the chorus, and many old friends and colleagues made up the Joe Sugar "All Star Band". The evening was hosted by two friends of mine who had played in the band- and interspersed throughout the night, were lovely tributes, a photographic montage, and general warm feelings for our Joe Sugar.

It's difficult to describe what I was feeling that night, singing on the HHS stage: the stage where I'd sung with the chorus, acted in the musicals, hosted a lip-sync fundraiser, and even received my letter for Varsity Volleyball. Kevin Bayen, our now District Head of Music for Hewlett-Woodmere Schools, the man who taught me to play clarinet, and the organizer of this concert, asked me to sing the Star Spangled Banner to open the concert. I had sung this piece at my own graduation, and share fond memories of this event with Mr. Bayen, so I thought, "sure, this will be great". However, mid "..by the dawn's early light..." I began to get choked up! Overwhelming nostalgia got to me, and I no longer felt like the professional opera singer that I am, but a nervous 18 year old, wanting to make a good impression on my friends, family, and music educators. I'm sure no one else noticed, but I had to WORK to gain control over a too-fast vibrato, and in a way, divorce myself from my surrounding- staring at the red neon "Exit" sign at the back of the auditorium. There's a fine line between wanting to express your emotions through song, and maintaining a safe emotional distance so you yourself don't fall apart mid-performance. A wise coach once told me "the audience doesn't want to see YOU cry, they want to see your character cry, and in turn, make us the audience cry with you". Our national anthem doesn't usually bring tears to my eyes (unless it's a particularly bad performance) but when it's combined with an all-too familiar setting, 20 years after I'd performed it, it almost got me.

What most affected me though, was seeing all my old friends- the adult versions of themselves, playing their respective instruments just as well if not BETTER than they played in high school. I made music my career, but most of my friends are now lawyers, doctors, or other corporate types, who could have easily let their musical selves go. Happily, each one of these amazing people dusted off their instruments and returned to their Alma mater to honor a great music educator. The jazz band was simply outstanding! I kept telling people- "I feel like my head is exploding"- from all the outstanding music making in the name of joy. It truly was an evening to remember and I'm certain Mr. Sugar would have approved. He was a swinging band-leader, and since I'd met him when I was in elementary school, I'd always looked up to him as a kind of larger-than-life teacher. Someone who I'd probably never perform with- he was just too far ahead of me, too important. But my 3rd grade self was proven wrong, when in high school, I WAS asked to sing with the jazz band!

It's amazing how life goes- you're a kid who loves music just because it's "fun", then you start to practice and it's sometimes a chore. As you get older, and your musical skills sharpen, it becomes easier, fun again- then, as you make it your career, pressure and travel make it feel like work. Then, an evening like this comes along, and you discover why you perform in the first place: because music is vital to your happiness. Thank you, all music teachers everywhere.

What a difference a week makes...

First, a plug. On May 15th, I had the privilege of singing the soprano solo part in Handel's Messiah with the Cathedral Choir, in Albany, NY.
(See http://web.me.com/woodybynum/The_Cathedral_Choir/Welcome.html)
The concert was part of a series of fundraisers to send this very deserving choir on a tour of Italy. If you are in Albany sometime, please consider stopping by the church and offering a donation. Or, visit the church's website to see if there are upcoming concerts to benefit this magnificent choir.

Messiah is long. It gets longer, if you don't have a savvy conductor moving things along. Woody Bynum (the Cathedral's choir director) is a master- being a singer himself, he understands the plight of those Handel-ian mellismas, and brings his sensitivity to the instrumental interpretation. I was also shocked to find out that the boys had NEVER PERFORMED Messiah before this May!! They began learning the piece in the Fall, and by the 15th of May, sounded like old pros.

Now, it may seem a strange idea, performing Messiah in Spring time, but during the service (while I was not singing) I found myself meditating upon those texts. Too often during the Christmas season, we singers find ourselves with numerous Messiahs to perform. It's sometimes less about the holiday and more about the work; and speaking for myself, the stress of the season/fighting off the winter flu/extreme cold/too many tourists in NY- disrupts the holiness of Christmas time. That, and usually choirs only offer the Christmas portion of Messiah, doing a disservice to the rest of the work. Even non-Christians can glean some comfort from that biblical question "O death, where is thy sting?".
Maya Angelou is quoted as saying "I answer the heroic question "Death, where is they sting?" with "It is here in my heart and mind and memories." and then of course Shakespeare's sonnets are fraught with references to this descriptive text, specifically #146
"So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there's no more dying then"

Sadly, mere days after performing this profound work, my Aunt passed away after a long struggle with cancer. I can't help but think that the unusual timing of this Messiah wasn't arbitrary at all. My friend Nate sang a glorious "The Trumpet shall sound" accompanied by an outstanding baroque trumpet and, to paraphrase Corinthians, I was 'changed'. I had no idea how dire my Aunt's situation had become, at those moments during the performance, but she was first and foremost in my thoughts throughout.

I have to respect that my Aunt was a private person, suffice it to say- she lived on her own terms, and passed on when she was good and ready. I'm grateful to have visited with her before the end, and am honored to have known such a woman.

Allow me to impart some things I've learned this week:

1. Friends are wonderful.
2. Even if your loved one didn't want a 'big deal' made of it, family and friends appreciate the opportunity to get together in tragedy, and lend comfort to each other.
3. When selecting music for the service, consider the resources on hand, not how you'd like your favorite song sung. Opt for instrumental version whenever possible
4. Make sure your choice of reading is NOT the selected gospel reading. Don't leave it up to the priest to double check for you. Even though it's their job.
5. Watch out for your food intake. I discovered this week that I'd rather eat than feel sad. Now that the funeral is done, the initial sadness lingers coupled with anger, now that I'm fatter. :)

Me as "Cover MOM"

Yesterday being Mother's Day reminded me of my weekend stint "covering" for my friend, who took her first vacation away, since giving birth the first time, 3 years ago.

The assignment: an insanely smart, active and funny 3 year old, and an adorable non-fussy 6 month old. My duties over the weekend included schlepping the girls to a ballet class (for the 3 year old) then to a library class, and "Auntie Jen's choice" depending on how the weather/how tired I was, and a 3 year old's birthday party the next day. After being prepped and armed with a complete schedule of feedings, sleep times, directions to each off-site location, and general rules of the house, my friend and her husband took off and I began mommy-ing.

I got to the home at around 5:45 the first night and took the hand-off from the nanny. This was the easy night. The girls were already fed, in the jammies, and winding down for an 8pm bedtime. Ahhh. Being a mommy is easy! They both slept thru the night without incident (well, the 6 month old slept until 6:30, when I then changed and fed her- and went back to snoozing) and once morning came around, both girls have that morning-docile quality that makes you want to eat them up. This haze lasted maybe an hour, before I realized "Mommy-time" runs about 20 minutes late.

Now, I consider myself a great multitasker, with a pretty good handle of time management, but when I left myself 45 minutes for a 20 minute car ride, I still managed to get to the 10:30 ballet class at around 10:40. MOMS out there- just getting yourself out of the house with kids in tow, is a feat worth recognizing. If you manage to get yourselves to appointments on time- Gold Medal worthy.

The one drag all weekend? The rainy Sunday. UGH. I love to be outside, and the day before was so gorgeous: walked to the park, played in the sand, and my 3 year old even comforted an older girl on the playground when she got a splinter "It's going to be ok..." she said. Love that girl. But when it rains, your mommy-options are limited. We ended up painting ceramics at "Claytime" (www.claytime.com) which ate up several hours and my cell phone. Lesson learned that day: never potty train a toddler with a phone hanging out of your pocket. It's sure to fall into the toilet. Once I had both girls good and exhausted, we headed home, had our bath and into jammies. THEN- the thunder and lightening started. Oh no. I thought this would be a disaster for the girls, being at home without mommy to comfort them. I went in and checked on my 3 year old and all she says to me is "Auntie Jen I heard a noise". I was so grateful for her lack of fear! I gave her a big hug and kiss and said I'd check on her in 5 minutes. When I went back- she was OUT.

So dear readers, here are some new mommy tricks of the trade, that I found out about LATER. Could have been useful to know, before my weekend was up.

1. Don't drop your cell phone in the toilet. (repeat, I know- but important)
2. Don't play "airplane" with a 6 month old after they've eaten.
3. Dress your toddler in the morning while she's on the potty. This way she can't bolt- running around the living room pants-less
4. A 'jumpy seat' is a 6 month old's best friend.
5. Always use the burp-cloth, even if you think you don't have to.
6. Being in the car is a pleasure. Once you get everyone in the car.
7. Never give a 3 year old a full glass of ANYTHING. It may end up on the floor.

Love organic food, dislike hipsters...

I was feeling pent up today; paid my taxes, on a diet, planning a recital and prepping material for later dates- and I decide I have to get out of the house. What I REALLY wanted to eat was the grilled chicken sandwich and sweet potato fries at Henry's Ale House (62 Henry Street) but I thought to myself, "Be good Jen, go to Siggy's Good Food (an all-organic menu, just down the block from the Ale House) and get yourself something healthy." Here is the aftermath.


Siggy's does indeed have good food- I've been there several times, and like the smoothies, sandwiches, and Moroccan Chicken- BUT, today at lunch I experienced something I've never encountered.

My bill was $12.36 (chicken sandwich and Chinese Cola). I handed my visa/debit card to the 20 something waitress and she informs me, with a hipster casualness, "Oh, we have a $20 minimum on credit card purchases". I'm like, "Well, I don't have any cash on me" and it was actually true! So she says "Well, there's an ATM at the store over there, and another one down the block over there...." Etc...

So I'm dumbfounded and ask to speak to the manager, seeing if he or she will give me a break, after all, with tip, my total bill would be around $15, so surely they'll let it slide. Waitress says "I really can't" (with a fake ingratiating smile) "it's a $20 minimum and we can't take the card". Wow. I reply, "Are you really going to have me go to the ATM, get charged 3 bucks, so I can pay this 12 dollar check?!" and little girl waitress says "Oh, well, we really get the charges, so we can't take your card."

I'm fuming at this point, but I go to the ATM (after asking for the manager one last time) and thought about just walking away. I didn't, being an honest person, but when I got back to Siggy's- I confront the guy behind the smoothie counter and ask, plainly:

"Is there anywhere on the menu, or anywhere in this restaurant that says WE DONT TAKE CREDIT CARDS UNDER $20 ?" The answer was no. At this point I'm so sick of the staff at this restaurant that I say "You know, you're not supposed to refuse credit card payments." and he actually says to me "Well everyone around here does that, and it's only if they start cracking down on us will we get into trouble"

Needless to say, after some more bitching on my part, I left Siggy's without leaving a tip, and the stupid hipster waitress looking confused.

I'm from this neighborhood. I know the restaurants that only take cash, and those that accept credit- but guess what Siggy's? All of those cash-only places have it POSTED IN THE WINDOW, or ON THE WEBSITE, or ON THE MENU. Only a completely daft owner plays this wide-eyed innocence game with their customers. I guarantee you Siggy's, if I'd seen a sign, I would have a) walked on by knowing I didn't have cash, or b) stopped and gotten cash.

Unbelievable.

can heavenly breasts such stormy passions feel?

The answer is YES. If you're a man, ordering the fried chicken plate at a nouveau-southern restaurant, and they only serve you a leg and a thigh. As my male companion said so succinctly, "All the trappings are there, but the substance is lacking"

Wow- truer words were never spoken, and I'm not just thinking fried chicken. Funnily enough, he also said that his leg was 'divine', but he still couldn't get over the fact that it was an affront, not being served a breast. Ok, everyone stop and laugh here. I did.

In the opera world, how many times have I heard- "She's so musical, but needs to work on...x, y, or z" or, conversely, I hear young singers and think "wow, she looks great, and has an outstanding voice, but no clue about technique to support it all". Moreover, I'd love to pinpoint the moment in opera, when it became equally important that you LOOK as good as you sound? In this brave new world of HD broadcasting, reality shows and the like, if you don't look the part, you've got to work that much harder to convince those powers that be. Being a great actress and/or singer only wins you half the battle. We need to be all the trappings AND have the substance, all the time.

Another hard fact to consider: maintaining 'substance' is a challenging task, as you age. Yes, I have way more insight into the rep I sing, now that I'm older. And yes, it's much easier for me now, dealing with the stress of auditions, sickness, and nerves. But the thing they don't tell you, is that when your body goes through changes, it's up to you to diagnose any problems, and address them. Some voices change: young baritones turn tenor mid-career, some spinto sopranos voices shift, and they become mezzos (think Regina Resnik!) and some singers become straight theater actresses, and directors (again, think Regina Resnik). For me, I herniated a disc at L5 two years ago, and continued to sing the same way, ignoring my pains and subconsciously protecting the now-numb, lower back. It's only now, it the last month, that I've begun to work with a body specialist on working out the bad physical habits, habits that crept in so subtly that they took me unawares.

So, dear readers, notice when you're 'phoning it in' and when you trust that you've done your emotional homework to produce a performance complete with trappings substance. Everyone likes a nice breast, right? :)

Now that it's done...

I've started a blog!

What a season its been: I started out by making my directorial debut at Stony Brook University (20th century opera scenes by Britten, Weill, and Stravinsky) and still had time to cover Bertha in Il barbiere di Siviglia and Madame Podtochina's Daughter in The Nose, both at the Metropolitan Opera.

You know, covering roles at such an important opera house (or anywhere, really) is sometimes more nerve-wracking than actually singing the role. Case in point: I was called in to sing the very first musical rehearsal this Fall, because my doppleganger was ill. Being a good girl, I had learned my role as Bertha backwards and forwards, so I wasn't worried. Until. Half way thru the first act finale I realize that Rosina and Bertha SWITCH of vocal parts, leaving ME to rely on my Eastman-cultivated sight-reading skills, and go along for the ride.

You may ask, "Jen, why didn't you know that?" and the answer is simple: I'd never done a Bertha before, and it wasn't in my contract. So the lesson here kiddies, is when you prepare a Rossini, or frankly, any Bel Canto role, find out where the traditional cuts are, if there are any vocal switches (i.e. The Susanna/Countess flip in the Marriage of Figaro Trio...) and finally, be a good sport. If, in front of the maestro and my colleagues, I had freaked out about not knowing about the switch, it would only make ME look bad. Do the best you can in those situations- trust me, things like this happen all the time and it's how you handle yourself that makes the difference.

Thus, my first musings as a cover! I hope to shed some more insight as the blog goes on, along with fun happenings in the real world. Enjoy the blog, and thanks for visiting!