It’s a fortnight after the Senior Vocal Competitions and I am still basking in the reflected glow of my cups and trophies. Oh dear, that’s bragging isn’t? And we Kiwis aren’t meant to do that are we? Well convention can just go sulk in a corner. I worked damn hard and I deserve to have my wee moment in the sun, right? Right?? So those of you who don’t agree with me can go and read this Wikipedia entry and the rest of you two remaining readers can settle back with your libation of choice and join me in my cup-reflected glow. Because I’m a sharer.
So here are some highlights/moments. Friday night I had 3 classes – Operatic Aria, French Art Song and Oratorio. There had been one or two people pull out and the adjudicator discombobulated everyone by starting about 5 minutes early. I have a thing about being late and when it says in the competition rules ‘Competitors must be ready to start 15 minutes prior to their class’ I take that to mean I must be ready an hour before. Other people like to rock up at a bee’s whisker before the 15 minute deadline. Which is fine if the classes are running according to the published times. Not quite so if things are ahead of schedule. There was a fair bit of frantic rushing to find people until everyone got the hang of things and started to turn up in time.
Operatic Aria goes well and the money note pings out so I am feeling good. I go to hand in my scores for French Art Song and Oratorio and have A Moment. One of those uh-oh-where-is-the-oratorio-copy-I-am-supposed-to-be-holding-when-I-sing moments. Realise I haven’t made a copy. OK, I’ll just take the original score and hand in my singing folder photocopy. Great, no problem. Oh wait, problem. The score is small. So small that it’s hard to read without my reading glasses. No matter, I know this pretty well I can deal with it. Heart rate returns to near normal. Nip back to the waiting area and ask where we are, someone says you’re on next. The bell dings, and I sail confidently onto the platform, Oratorio score in hand. I announce my piece and while helpfully providing a translation of the Latin, notice that my accompanist has gone back to her front row seat and is scrambling frantically through her folders of music. Poor Jo, I think, she’s picked up the wrong music. And then a voice intones from the back “This is the French Art Song class”.
Excellent. I’ll just fall into this big hole I am praying will open up underneath me. Only it doesn’t. “Right then” I say, “I’ll just go off and come back on again shall I?” Risk a quick glance at the adjudicator, she is smiling sympathetically, phew! Exit stage left not quite with indecent haste, drop the wretched Oratorio score, take a deep breath and sail back on to sympathetic applause. “I will now sing a French Art Song” . Much smiling from the audience. Think – I’ve stuffed this up before I even start so might as well enjoy it. And I did and so fortunately did the adjudicator.
Oratorio was interesting. I used the small score and only had one oopsy, where I looked down to where I thought I was to find that I was looking in the wrong place. It’s funny how your brain gets a memory of where things are on the page and then when that page size changes….
Saturday was British Art Song in splendid solitude in the morning, then a flurry in the afternoon – Lieder, Duet, Comic/Light Operatic and finally the Senior Scholarship. This was the one I really wanted, having fallen short in the past two years. And thanks to the combined efforts of my wonderful teacher, my lovely accompanist, my excellent voice therapist and some damn hard work from me, the little man who lives in my head remained almost entirely silent and I came off the platform happy. Yes, you read that right, I was happy! Here’s my happy face….
My singing teacher is about to have another baby so there will be a period of no lessons, but I have plans to do my LTCL (Recital) in the next year or two so I will carry on working on new rep. Oh and I’m going to be part of a very special performance of Handel’s Messiah in December, featuring my wonderful teacher Rebecca Ryan and Jonathan Lemalu.