After many years of singing, only recently have I been able to glimpse the reality of what we as vulnerable, anxious and insecure singers willingly, wittingly and repeatedly endure. The humiliation, the disappointment, the tears… We’ve all been there time and again, but do we ever surrender? Of course not! Because ultimately we love it; it’s the blood in our veins, the fire in our hearts and the joy in our spirits, and when we share with another singer the latest disappointment we no more expect them to say ‘Why not give it all up - it’s not worth it’ than they suggest we cut off an arm. But to those outside our dysfunctional band, it remains a mystery and after more than two years of educating a dearly loved friend - non-singer and non-musician - in the ways of a mezzo obsessed with her craft, I have come to appreciate that mystery rather more.
The first puzzle he was curious to solve was why, given that I do not make the bulk of my income (far from it!) as a singer, I devote so much time to a continual cycle of opera and concert performances. ‘It must be the applause’, he declared. Of course it’s lovely to be appreciated and applauded, but how could I convey to him that our passionate desire to be on stage runs far deeper than that? How could I help him to understand that something to which I dedicated virtually all the hours I was free from my academic life was more than a ‘hobby’? Ultimately, I couldn’t do so, but after devotedly sitting through performances of Carmen, Orfeo ed Euridice, Merrie England, Orpheus in the Underworld, Il Trittico, Idomeneo, The Tales of Hoffmann, and Don Giovanni, he has got the message. Beyond reason and logic, we sing because we need to sing.
The second puzzle troubled him more and troubles me too, for all of us. Every time I faced an audition, often for companies with whom I had previously performed, and for an audition panel which contained individuals with whom I shared a relationship which went beyond the opera stage, I was deeply apprehensive of the outcome. I took this as a matter of course, but gradually his observations began to sink in. Many who for reasons of skill, good fortune, or sheer force of personality, function as MDs and producers, or who for other reasons - which do not always bear close examination - acquire a fearsome degree of power. However well we may sing at an audition, we know that the dynamics and politics involved in winning that coveted role does not depend on our performance on that vital day alone.
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How often have we seen much loved colleagues cast aside on the whim of an audition panel member who could no more sing even the smallest cameo role than fly? How often have we been told to accept with resignation the bizarre decisions of casting directors, to move on to the next audition with our heads held high, all the while knowing that confidence crushing decisions are often made by people who simply enjoy wielding the power to do so? ‘Why do you allow them to do this?’ my friend asks. ‘Why do you let them have the power?’ The answer is, of course, that we want to sing, and we know that we have to go along with the audition system to be able to do so. The power will remain in the hands of those who cast us or reject us, who are slow to admit their errors when they make a mistake in casting, yet quick to condemn us for our own.
Thirdly, I have discovered through his observations, the wry amusement of hearing us all evaluated by a non-singer. We cannot fail but listen to other singers with the ear of a singer. Sometimes we are biased, sometimes envious, but ultimately I think we give each other the benefit of the doubt, knowing that we all share the same anxieties about our performance. My friend has no such scruples: ‘Why is he always in it?’ ‘Why does she screech all time?’ ‘John Doe was terrible in this one.’ His evaluations are made without bias (except when it relates to me!) and without the information we have about our fellow cast members, and yet are often far more truthful than we would ever dare to be. Perhaps that is a good thing. We need to be kind to each other because we all face the same battles. We need to overlook each other’s weaknesses, knowing that the audience won’t do so, that we have more than enough of our own, and that ultimately, we are all pawns in a game we have no intention of ever giving up.
My friend knows better now than to ask me when I’ll be more selective in my singing, but I don’t think he’ll ever understand why we continue to endure the tensions, heartache and bitter-sweetness of the wonderful world we are all privileged to occupy. Never mind - as long as he’s in the audience. He also knows better than to miss a show!
Sarah Tyler
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