I recently returned from an international singing competition in Tirana, Albania. I was representing Great Britain, possibly for the first and last time. People often say that competitions are fixed and I’ve previously thought
that was sour grapes. However, when it became clear that four out of the ten judges were Albanian and that only one western European out of a possible twelve got into the final (and no, it wasn’t me) I began to feel a little suspicious. These events are not for the faint-hearted and I discovered pretty quickly that I didn’t have the right personality to cut it on the competitive circuit.
I wasn’t helped by the fact that my luggage remained in Milan for two days and that the Albanian National Orchestra couldn’t get to grips with Samuel Barber and therefore relegated me to piano accompaniment. Nor did I find the atmosphere conducive to reaching artistic heights. There were machine gun bunkers every few hundred meters along the roads and beggars to rival India.
However, all this was water off a duck’s back to many of the other competitors. Some of them, it transpired, went all over the world participating in such events. In many ways they were parodies of singers. The Italian Tenor wore a face-mask at all times unless he was eating or singing. The amazon of a Bulgarian soprano never spoke to a soul and managed to intimidate with the slightest glance (she won). The Ukrainian Bass who came second had never even appeared in an opera, but rather makes his living from winning prizes. While I understand that people can help to make a name for themselves by doing well in a competition, surely this should be a means to an end and not the end in itself.
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Winning a competition can be the leg up needed for getting an agent or being taken seriously by a big company, but just like trial by audition it doesn’t necessarily reward the best artists. The personality of a winner often lacks the very quality that makes a singer moving and exciting – vulnerability. Indeed, it is counterproductive to display any vulnerability at all. It will be leapt upon as a sign of weakness and insecurity by judges and competitors alike in what is essentially a battle of the voices.
Many of the best singers I know have told me disastrous stories of their attempts to win. The Baritone who came sixth out of five when no fifth prize was awarded because he was judged to have sung so badly. The soprano who was unexpectedly awarded first prize only to be told that they had read out the wrong name as she accepted it.
These things are humiliating and can set you back for a long time if you don’t develop a thick skin. I once did a dreadful audition for the Ferrier prize and then couldn’t seem to negotiate the door to get off the Wigmore Hall stage. In my panic I thrust myself at it just as someone was opening it from the other side, so the entire panel witnessed me flying off the stage and flat onto my face.
In the end, many singers are never going to thrive in a competitive environment. The trick is to know what sort of singer you are and how capable you are of putting on the right sort of armour for that particular battle. I surrender.
Jessica Walker
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