Bolcom & Morris

A few weeks ago, I had the honor and privilege of attending both a master class and a recital given by mezzo-soprano Joan Morris and her composer/pianist husband, William Bolcom. I have been a fan of Bolcom & Morris for a long time, dating back to my discovery of Mr. Bolcom's first two volumes of Cabaret Songs back in the early 1990s, when I performed them on the In Series at Mt. Vernon College as part of a quartet. (That was an interesting "3Bs" program - usually the "3Bs" are Bach, Beethoven and Brahms, but in this case, it was Bizet, Brahms and Bolcom. I got to sing the Brahms Liebeslieder Waltzes and the Bolcom songs, both of which were staged. But I digress.)

Besides performing Mr. Bolcom's compositions, Bolcom & Morris are known for their recordings of turn-of-the-century (20th) songs and works from the Great American Songbook. These pieces were a large portion of the concert they performed at Howard Community College on March 1. They also did pieces from the Cabaret Songs and a few pieces by those great art song composers, Leiber & Stoller. (Seriously, the guys who wrote "Blue Suede Shoes" and "Hound Dog" wrote these fantastic pieces. But more about that in a moment.)

Ms. Morris is a true artist in her delivery of the American songbook. Her performance was nuanced and authentic, with unique interpretations of the material that drew in her audience. Mr. Bolcom balanced her at the piano, playing with bravado or intimacy as the songs required. In the hands of lesser artists, a lot of the material could have been just a bunch of old songs, possibly perceived as corny by some people. This was not the case in this performance.

While I did not attend Mr. Bolcom's piano master class the previous evening, I did attend their joint vocal master class in the afternoon. As giving as they are as performing artists, they were equally so as teaching artists. Each singer was given their full attention and appreciation, and Ms. Morris was particularly adept at finding the right trigger to bring out a deeper understanding of the text for some of the singers.

After the master class, I went up to them to introduce myself and told them that I had discovered a bootleg cassette of theirs via a friend years ago, and that I had played it so often that it broke. These were the early days of the internet for me, and I really wanted to find out who wrote these songs, and since I knew that they taught at the University of Michigan, I checked out the website to see if I could find their contact info. I then wrote to Ms. Morris, and was surprised when I got a response from Mr. Bolcom telling me that his wife was on vacation, and that the songs were by Leiber & Stoller, and that I should write to them and tell them that Bill Bolcom said it was okay for me to have them. And then he gave me their address and fax number.

So I did just that and didn't hear anything back for a couple of months. And then, when I had forgotten about it completely, a package came in the mail with photocopies of hand-written music and a note from their secretary apologizing for the delay, but that Mr. Stoller (or Leiber - I can't remember which) had been out of the country and she had to wait for him to come back to get his permission.

The song that I was particularly anxious to have was a piece called "Humphrey Bogart," which is the only one of the packet that I've performed so far. I told Mr. Bolcom and Ms. Morris that the recording of that song gave me the idea for my cabaret show about movies and movie stars (that and Christopher Berg's "Poem," which begins with the line "Lana Turner has collapsed"). As a result, I had the beginnings of the show "Oh, to be a movie star!", which Ryan Cappleman and I performed together in Milwaukee as the inaugural show of our duo, MezzoPiano.

I thanked them for that and for all the wonderful music they have introduced or re-introduced in their 40+ year career. I'm hoping to be in touch with them and ... maybe make a road trip to Ann Arbor to coach with them?  

New Year, New Directions, and Keep Using Moisturizer

Of course, the term New Directions reminds me of Glee, and also of what I can only imagine was an intentional double-entendre. But I feel as though I'm taking some steps to do things differently.

First of all, I've decided that, for now, I'm not going to focus on developing my private studio. I'll take on students if they call and I can make it work. I'll build up my studio at Howard Community College and teach primarily during the day. But I don't want to be in the place I was in Milwaukee, where I had so many students that I didn't make time to practice, seek performing opportunities, and put myself out there to perform.

(The cynical part of me says, "It's not like anyone was coming to hear you sing anyway, even when you did." And that's true. But that is bitter, and I'm trying to put that behind me. So this is the last time I complain about that.)

So I recharged myself personally and professionally this past few weeks. I went to Jamaica a week, which was my personal recharge. And before that, I recharged myself professionally by going to NYC for the NATS/NOA Joint Workshop at the Roosevelt Hotel. I sang in a master class on belt (which I'll write about later), attended fantastic master classes by Andrew Lippa and John Bucchino, both of whom I spoke to (and I have Bucchino's card and might go up and coach his songs with him), and went to terrific sessions on finding the truth in your interpretations in auditions and performances.

I'd like to write a bit about the last part, in particular regarding two sessions on the final day.

One was taught by Stephen Wadsworth, who is a well-respected opera director and teaches advanced acting techniques at Juilliard. He was also the Skylight's co-artistic director in the late 80s/early 90s - right after I left Milwaukee the first time, but we'd met numerous times and I'd sung for him. In fact, he remembered my face (which means my moisturizer must be working, because it had been 25 years since I saw him last!) when I spoke to him after his session.

His focus was on boiling down your material - musical theater song, aria or monologue - to a single sentence that had a universal message.

When I returned from NYC, I had an audition for Washington National Opera. I prepared two arias, one of which was "Seguidilla" from Carmen. So this was how I approached the aria, by creating this sentence:

"This is a person who wants freedom from an authority figure, and will use charm to manipulate that figure into giving it to her."

Then I translated that to:

"I am a person who wants freedom from an authority figure (Don Jose), and I will use my charm to manipulate him into giving it to me."

Later that day, I saw Nicholas Muni, another well-respected director at the head of the opera department at Cincinnati Conservatory of Music. He spoke of the 5 magic questions that needed to be asked when preparing an aria. So I applied these to Seguidilla as well:

FIVE MAGIC QUESTIONS
1. What do I need/want at this moment (Goal)? My way and freedom. Maybe some fun.

2. What course of action would give me the best chance of obtaining it at this moment (Action)? Being sexy and teasing, making my jailer think it'd be worth his while to let me go.

3. What is the obstacle (Obstacle)? Don José, my jailer

4. What must I do to transform the obstacle (Tactic)?  Seduce him. Let him know how much fun we could have together if he not only let me go, but came with me.

5. What are the positives/negatives of success/failure (Stakes)?
Positives/success: Get my freedom, have sex
Negatives/failure: Stay in jail, be bored, no sex

I also applied this to "Voce di donna" from La Gioconda, my other audition aria. I worked on the Seguidilla more because that's what I intended to offer them.

And of course, they didn't ask for that one. But I still felt like I was more prepared and comfortable than I'd been in a long time. And rather than thinking of it as an experience where I'd be judged, I thought of it as a performance opportunity (another thing that Muni encouraged the participants to consider).

And Stephen Gathman of the WNO remembered me, even though I hadn't sung for him since 1996, when he was an assistant chorusmaster.

Yay for recharging my energies and yay for moisturizer!