The first day I came to New York, I didn’t run to see Lincoln Center, I headed straight for Carnegie Hall. It was the thrill of my life to actually see “that” building and think that someday I might be able to stand on that stage as a performer. I’m sure I looked like the Los Angeles transplant I was—another star-struck newcomer to New York.
But standing outside was nothing compared to being backstage as a performer about to go on and actually sing in the hall. It was a very small role, but it didn’t matter to me. I was backstage looking at the same bricks Horowitz touched. (The renovation didn’t change the area you stand in just before you walk on stage…those are original bricks.) I was in total awe. This was the stage I’d dreamed of since I was a small child. Renovated or not, small role or not, I was living my dream.
The jobs got bigger and more frequent, but the experience never lost its luster for me. The house has a magic that compares with no place I’ve sung. There is a special intimacy that I feel whether I’m on stage or in the audience. It is as if I’m singing for people who are very present. It feels as if you can sing the smallest piano and it will carry to the last row.
I’ve said this before, but I remember hearing Flicka sing in that house for the first time. I was in the last row in the highest balcony. (Nose-bleed seats, I believe they are called!) It was the first time I’d been in the house as an audience member. The intimacy of the house was such that she was obviously singing just to me! It was a rude shock to meet her for the first time and realize that she didn’t know me. I felt we were certainly best friends after that very intimate experience.
Some of the highlights of my musical life have happened at Carnegie Hall and have fulfilled my dream of what Carnegie Hall should be. But I had a rude awakening when I had the experience of singing in Carnegie Hall with a world-class company one night, and later in that same week, performing with a group that had markedly lower standards. I realized for the first time that on some levels, performing at Carnegie Hall is something that can be bought.
Carnegie Hall does have relatively high standards, and not anyone or any group can perform there. You do have to submit your materials ahead of time and they are screened, but contrary to my naïve opinion as a young singer, the standards are not the highest in the world. For example, piano teachers hold annual recitals at Weill Hall, Carnegie’s recital hall. Granted, this would not be a John Thompson, Book One recital, but the point is that these are not performances of the highest of the high. A look through the Carnegie/Weill calendar runs the gamut from the pinnacle of artistic achievement to a student recital.
But Carnegie Hall is still Carnegie Hall. We wanted to bring it as close to you as we could. If you are really ready, you can bring your recital here. We wanted you to see what that would mean, so we talked to soprano Suzanne Draayer, who did just that. She took a very special recital to the highest level she could and then brought it to New York. We talked to a chorus who came here. If you want to sing here as a soloist, we talked to MidAmerica, the company that brings more soloists to Carnegie Hall than any other organization. We even talked to the group responsible for bringing about the creation of Carnegie Hall in the first place: the New York Oratorio Society. They were definitely thinking: If we build it, they will come…and come, and come, and come!
Would you like to come? You can, you know! I hope you’ll look long and hard at the photos in this issue. When the time is right, bring your art to New York.
—CJ Williamson, Editor
P.S. At the time of this article, Carnegie Hall’s recording and video policies and prices are prohibitive. (Read the articles on Suzanne Draayer and the New York Festival of Song.) I was told by Carnegie’s publicity office that these policies are due to the union and are in line with other major halls such as Lincoln Center. I was reminded that they also protect the artists from unscrupulous people recording concerts and selling them without the artist’s permission. However, it leaves the artist really unable to get much use of an archival recording of their own work! If they do pay for that archival cassette or video, they are not allowed to duplicate it for non-commercial purposes so it is rather useless. One cassette (not even a CD!) for $268. One video tape for $1500. I was told this was for “labor and production costs.” Duplicate it and you can be fined $15,000. Policies such as these really do create the very thing the hall claims they are trying to avoid: pirate recordings. It’s why performers have come to be grateful to that thriving black market.
