Renée Fleming is in a good place. She has a new, successful Handel recording out, recently premiered a new production of Rodelinda at the Met, and her new book, The Inner Voice: The Making of a Singer, hit bookstore shelves in November.
I had a particular interest in reading Ms. Fleming’s book. I assumed it would discuss her training, which would include her years at the State University of New York-Potsdam (where I am a faculty member), and I was curious to read about her reflections on her time here. Though I’m not a huge fan of autobiographies—I ordered the book which arrived conveniently, at the start of my Thanksgiving recess.
I couldn’t put it down.
Perhaps I was in a good place to read The Inner Voice. I am constantly searching for ways to inspire my students at The Crane School of Music to improve their own performance technique, and I found myself highlighting so many passages that before I reached the end, I decided to use the book as required reading for one of my undergraduate performance classes.
The Inner Voice is a sincere effort by a professional to give her perspective of music, singing and the business to those interested in learning more. The author herself writes, “What I came up with was not the story of my life, but the autobiography of my voice.”
The Inner Voice is an easy, fairly quick read. Aspiring singers will appreciate Ms. Fleming’s honest account of her emotional journey during the course of her climb to operatic stardom. Obviously, hers is the sort of career to which many aspire. Some readers might allow themselves to think: “With the kind of education, contacts and personal attention she received from credible sources, how could she not succeed?” I, however, found the story of how Ms. Fleming evaluated, sorted through and processed all the information she continually received throughout her education quite interesting.
The main chapters focus on Ms. Fleming’s childhood, on the obvious influences of parents who were both vocal music teachers and performers. To my delight, in the chapter titled “Education” she devotes more than 15 pages to her undergraduate study at The Crane School of Music under the tutelage of voice teacher Patricia Misslin.
In the chapter on “Apprenticeship,” Fleming writes: “Some of the greatest talents have the most fragile egos, unable to accept even the gentlest criticism and explaining away every fault. Needless to say, these singers don’t go very far. The student’s job is to stay open-minded, to quell the knee-jerk defensiveness we all possess in the face of suggestions for improvement, and to maintain patience when faced with a process that is often slow, confusing and frustrating. On top of all that, the student must possess an unerring intuition about whether the instruction fits his particular needs. If not, he must be able to risk the necessary confrontation and move on to another teacher.”
Fleming tells of a colleague who, at a point during her education, possessed great talent and musicianship, and more drive and energy than she, but did not have the right intuition about choosing the appropriate kind of teaching for her.
“Perhaps it’s not intuition that guides a student but luck, or most likely a combination of both. Why did I have the good fortune over a period of 10 years to keep finding the right keys to the doors, while my colleague failed?”
What becomes very clear to the reader is that mentoring, from a variety of very respected sources, benefited Ms. Fleming. Her associations with Jan DeGaetani, Christoph Eschenbach, Sir George Solti, Hugues Gall—and perhaps most significantly—voice teacher Beverly Johnson, are obviously paramount to her development as a musician and singer. But under the “good girl,” “wanting to please,” “self-deprecating” umbrella stands an individual with a solid work ethic, a strong musical background and an undying desire to find new ways to make music.
One of the best moments in the book comes when Ms. Fleming tells of how she learned to improve her audition skills.
“Everything about me had the air of an apology,” she writes. “I continued to believe that it was my job to impress people, to dazzle them with my bold choices, so I persisted in singing pieces that were beyond my technique…Alternatively, I would select pieces that were perfect for my voice, but not perfect for an audition.”
She goes on to describe how she began to feign confidence.
“If I was a good enough actress to fake sexual confidence (i.e., Musetta), then I could surely fake self-confidence as well…So I pretended…Naturally, my being at ease put the jury at ease as well.”
Obviously, she learned to perfect the art of the old adage: “Act your way into a new way of thinking.”
Ms. Fleming goes into detail regarding some of the real challenges of her life: divorce, the “incident” with the claque* at Teatro la Scala, the death of her voice teacher, and her struggle with stage fright. In all cases, there is never a sense that she is damaged, regretful or unresolved. Rather, she has chosen to learn and grow from each experience, as is evident through her compassion and grace.
In this time, where pettiness or sarcasm is all too often the norm, Renée Fleming has managed to get her point across without belittling anyone, despite how she may have been treated. It is refreshing to get an understanding of an artist who is a real person, with fears, challenges, hopes and dreams. Renée Fleming is indeed, in a very good place.
*Claque, n : a group of followers hired to applaud or shout disapproval at a performance.
