Did you grow up in a musical home?
I certainly did! My father was a self-taught musician who played saxophone and clarinet. He had organized a dance band when he was in high school and continued performing with it through college. His group even played on ocean liners, plying the route from Boston to London for several summers. After World War II, he married my mother and they moved to Salem, Ore., where he taught high school and played weekend gigs with a dance band.
They adopted me when I was 10 months old. Four months later, my sister, Mary, came to our home as a newborn. My mother says that when she was caring for my sister she would have me listen to children’s records or opera. She tells me that I was doing my own version of the “Bell Song” from Lakmé at age 3. My mother had studied violin for a short time and she had taken some voice lessons. She was a true opera lover, but she was not a musician.
I began piano lessons at the age of 6, and I also studied violin for many years. When I was 11, we moved to Phoenix, Ariz., and I joined a church choir. The next year, the choirmaster asked me to sing the solo in the Mendelssohn cantata Hear My Prayer with the adult choir. When I was 14, I gave a baby recital that was heard by Dr. Richard Dales, professor of voice at Arizona State University. He said I was mature enough to take lessons, so I studied with him all through high school. Thankfully, I also continued my piano lessons—because I have found that being able to play helps immeasurably with learning roles and sight-reading. It also gives the singer a better understanding of the orchestral score.
How does one find the right voice teacher?
By trial and error—mostly error! If you take a couple of lessons from a teacher and you leave the studio feeling like you’ve been run over by a truck, you think: “This can’t be good.” So, you go for a few more lessons, and sometimes things get better. If they don’t, you try someone else. The teacher’s personality has be a good fit with the student’s, too. You have to be comfortable with your teacher.
My first teacher at the Eastman School of Music was Metropolitan Opera contralto Anna Kaskas. She was hilarious. The first time I met her, she said: “Come in, dearie, and close the door quickly. Don’t let my method leak out!” She was an excellent teacher and I had actually gone to Eastman specifically to study with her. From her, I got a very good beginning technique. She told me that a lot of people would say I was a mezzo—and I do have a very low range—but she maintained that my timbre was soprano. Even then, she predicted that I would be a dramatic soprano.
She had me work with Edwin McArthur, who had been the American accompanist for Kirsten Flagstad. When I was at Eastman, he was the conductor in the Opera Department. Later, during my junior and senior years, he got me my first opera apprenticeships. I sang Ortlinde in a production of Die Walküre when I was 19, but McArthur made me promise not to touch any more Wagner until I was 30, and I kept the promise—just barely.
What are your ideas on vocal technique?
I follow the advice of my last teacher, Margaret Harshaw. She said, “You have to be able to do this on your own.” At the moment, I don’t have a teacher. It’s not a bad thing to go to a coach or teacher and to have another set of eyes and ears when you’re having trouble with something, but when you get to be a professional, you have to be able to know your own voice. I believe Birgit Nilsson also maintained a similar credo; at least she did when I last talked with her. Every year I go back to early arias, even lighter things than Mozart, and work through them. I always sing through the “Exultate jubilate” just to see where the voice has gone over the year and how it has aged.
My best advice to singers is: If you do not feel comfortable while you are singing, something is wrong. Listen to your voice and pay attention to how it feels. That does not mean that everything should be easy—almost everything I sing has some great difficulties—but even when you are singing difficult music, you should feel that you are doing it with strength and good support. The music must flow. You should get to the point where you just breathe and sing, breathe and sing, while everything comes out right.
What is the difference between the techniques used in singing Italian and German music?
There is much more portamento and more legato singing in Italian music. German music has many places where you are expected to sing a lower note and then a higher note with no portamento in between, no sliding. In Italian, you are expected to have a legato that carries through, so there is quite a difference in approach.
How does artist management differ between the United States and Europe?
The United States still has the archaic system that requires you to sign with one agent and stay with him or her for the duration of the contract. As a result, that agent gets a percentage of your fee whether he or she has gotten you a particular job or not. I applaud AGMA’s recent efforts to change that system. I like the German process, where any agent can call you and say, “Look, Dortmund needs a Brünhilde. Are you free?” If you sing it, the agent who called gets the commission, because he did the work.
What is your opinion of the way opera companies treat artists?
Sometimes there are problems. For example, a few years ago, somebody wanted me for one production. I already had a contract for something else a little later, but both jobs were possible, and the slight conflict could have been worked out. Later, I discovered that one house had, in all likelihood, bought out the other. Of course, nobody told me! As a result, I only did one job, when both were possible.
Singers just have to stay true to themselves. There will always be politics involved, and people do play games. Executives may lie to you because they are working only for the company and their total interest is in getting the show on. They really don’t care if you are sick or overworked. They are looking for box office receipts, and they want to know that they’ve pleased their public. I know that sounds cynical and calloused, but it’s the way things are sometimes.
I just try to keep a good attitude and to stay out of politics—but I can go to bat for myself like any good strong diva, when necessary.
How do you deal with stress?
I try to be well rested. The most difficult time for any singer, either in this country or in Europe, is the final rehearsal week. It is just killing! The company crams everything into four or five days. If you’re lucky, you get one day off before you’re expected to go out and wow the audience on opening night. On that one day off, panic can set in. You wonder if you are going to remember every line, and if your voice will be OK.
Once I had to rehearse Siegfried on the morning of its performance. Then, the next day—which was the only free time between shows—we had a three-hour Götterdämerung rehearsal.
Some people live with a high level of stress because they are learning a second role while they are rehearsing the first one. How can you give your best when you are spending your free time working on something else? I don’t understand why people do this, but I do know that it’s hard to say “no.” When you learn a new role under those circumstances, something may get lost. Even when people tell you the new role is great, you may wonder what it could have been.
Are you always conscious of vocal technique when you are on stage?
Absolutely! There is a part of my brain that always stays calm and observing. It concentrates on the technique so I can let the rest of me go hog wild with my character. All the time, I know when a certain phrase is coming up. I know when I must breathe and remember to swallow.
Even if you are being thrown around the stage, when you have a big line coming, you have to stop, swallow and take that breath. Sometimes I even write in my score: “Swallow, moisten mouth, don’t forget.” In Elektra, for example, depending on the set, there may be all sorts of places you can hide little bottles of water with flexible straws. One [bottle] might tip over, or the straw on another might not work—let me tell you, that’s happened—so you need a few of them.
Sometimes you have to sing even if you have a cold. I have found that the following is true of other people as well as myself: You have only one good performance in you at that point, so resist the urge to use it up on a rehearsal. That means you can’t mark very much, either. I know people who have sung dress rehearsals and then been unable to sing the premiere. It’s happened to me when I thought the cold was not too bad.
Sing the one performance, and then plan on taking some time off after it.
In order to stay healthy, I try to get plenty of sleep. I exercise and I lift weights. Occasionally, I use an expectorant cough syrup. When it’s dry and dusty on stage, that helps the trachea and bronchial area to produce more moisture, thus saving some wear and tear on the voice.
Did you have a day job at one time?
When I first moved to New York, I had a job with the Metropolitan Opera, processing credit card purchases of tickets and subscriptions. Later, I worked in data processing, and I was trained to run the Met payroll. I worked there for almost three years—full-time for a year-and-a-half, and then, when I was getting some singing jobs, part-time. Finally, I was able to quit and just sing.
I never resorted to going back to a part-time day job, but let me tell you, sometimes it was really tempting. In the long run, it was good that I managed to resist and use the time to learn more roles, many of which I taught myself because I could not afford a coach. It’s amazing, but some of those roles are the most thoroughly learned, because I had to do everything myself.
What are your thoughts on audition attire?
Your clothing should be something that makes you feel like you and is comfortable to sing in, not something that makes you look like a diva. It must make you feel good about yourself when it’s cold or raining. I think it’s perfectly all right for a woman to wear slacks, even if she is not auditioning for a pants role, but it’s most important to look neat and spiffy. You need to look like you’re happy to be there.
How about recital clothing?
That’s a hard one, especially if the recital is in the afternoon. On those occasions, I’ve often worn a “tea length” or mid-calf length dress. Since people attending the concert are not very dressed up, you might make them feel a bit uncomfortable if you come out in a fancy long gown. Being just a little bit casual works better, I think.
Of course, for an evening recital you definitely need the long gown. It’s also important that you and your accompanist look good together. I once did a recital where it was understood that I would wear black and red. The pianist showed up in a red dress that clashed with mine. I was horrified, because she should never have worn that dress.
Once, I had a big green concert gown that I called my “Glenda the Good Witch Dress.” It needed its own suitcase. By now, I’ve gotten over that! Now, when I have a gown built I use good fabrics like silk chiffon, things that flow but pack into a small space. My all-time favorite is a crinkle fabric that fits easily into a small sweater bag and is ready to go immediately.
Tell me about your recording of Tristan und Isolde and how it came to be.
I was one of the last members of the team to be engaged, but here is what I know of it. Tenor Marc Deaton and Titanic Records began a dialogue with conductor Glen Cortese about making a recording with the help of Shotgun Productions, a non-profit company dedicated to helping people in the arts. It was Shotgun’s first foray into opera, but it was a good experience.
They organized fundraisers at which we singers performed for possible donors. They also did mailings to good prospects supplied by the singers and other interested people. Since all the contributions were made to a non-profit corporation, they were tax deductible. The artistic staff of Titanic Records arranged for the orchestra, and despite the fall of the dollar at that point, enough money was raised to record the opera at a live performance in Sofia, Bulgaria. The concert was a glorious experience for all involved.
Deaton was really the strong point in all of this and much of the credit for the success of the project goes to him. He was always a good source of information when the folks at Shotgun needed to know how something was done in opera. However, marketing has been very low key, because almost all of the project funds were depleted with the cost of making the recording. The singers received only small honoraria, enough to pay their airfare and expenses in Sofia. There have been half-page advertisements in Opera News and Gramophone magazines, but everything else has been done by word of mouth and email. Now, critics are reviewing it, radio stations are being asked to play it—and we shall see what happens.
How do you manage to have a private life?
You need to have a good long distance phone arrangement! Email is great! You can write about your day and stay in touch with loved ones without having to use your voice, so it’s great for singers. Of course, when I’m home between jobs, it’s up to me to budget my time so that it gets spent the way I really want to spend it.
What do you have coming up in the near future? [As of January 2005 –editor]
This spring is going to be interesting. I sing another Ring Cycle in Germany in March, and then I cover Brünhilde for the Met in April. Before that’s even finished, I start rehearsals for Fidelio in Pittsburgh. Immediately following the last show, I fly to Paris, where rehearsals for Elektra, which I will cover, begin the next day. Those performances don’t finish until mid-July, so I’m definitely taking some time off afterwards.
I have an exciting new production planned for the following season. If all goes as planned, I’ll be singing both Judith in Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle and the Woman in Schoenberg’s Erwartung on one evening. Fortunately, I start off next season with another Ring Cycle, so I’ve plenty of time to learn new music.
