Dive into the stream-of-consciousness fun behind the Diva curtain… enjoy some short story goodness and humor, and learn a little about how the Diva became… a Diva.
* * * * * *
I spent the summer of 2009 under the instruction of CA, a professional coloratura Opera singer who, and I quote one of the most famous music directors on the Eastern Seaboard, has, “The most perfect singing technique on the East Coast.”
Ironically, CA now lives in Arizona - where, according to Hamlet 2, “dreams go to die”. And up until this Summer, it was indeed where MY dreams had all met their end! In fact, before I was introduced to CA by my voice coach, the young champion baritone – SK (remember his name because he will be famous in 3 years) – I was a demoralized, defeated University student in the BA of Vocal Performance program, trying and failing repeatedly to earn admission into the BM of Voice Major.
I’m a dramatic actress, mind you, and a little diva in personality – so repeated failure to accomplish my goals put me in a major slump. I had actually begun to believe I could/would never go anywhere with my voice, that I was destined to be the Could’ve-been-who-should’ve-never-been.
And yet, I still had this amazing natural ability to soar around in the whistle register with nary a care in the world, and I knew… I just knew… there was something special about a soprano who could nail F6 over and over, and still walk away smiling.
August 2009 was the telling point. After two months studying with CA, I had begun to unlock the key to placing my voice safely for those high notes, and drawing out the richness of the lower notes… in fact, I had begun to feel like I had unlocked LA VOCE completely for the first time since I had first sung opera at age 17!
I had also worked hard all summer to avoid anything which might affect my vocal chords negatively due to my rampant allergies, including pecans, furry dogs, men’s cologne, dairy products, carpet, and all the other good and wonderful things in life!
Which is why I was devastated when on the Monday before CA’s end of term studio Master Class, I accidentally snorted Comet + Bleach.
I’ll leave the “Exactly how does one snort Comet?” to your imagination. Just picture me whirling around a kitchen, clutching my burned throat, gasping for breathe, my Betty Boops eyes bugging out of my head…. realising that I had quite possibly just undone all my hard work of the summer – less than two weeks before my final 2009 Audition for the BM Program!
I spent the next two days bashing my head against a (padded) bedroom wall and repeating in a drooling monotone, “You are stupid, you suck, you are stupid, you suck.”
Then Thursday came – and I went to CA’s Master Class where I sat in silent, burning awe (the burning part being literal) as young diva after young diva ranging in age from -200 to +19 years, stood up, performed a perfectly choreographed, vocalised piece of music, and sat down to be mobbed by all the other divas in wild support.
Then it was my turn. I stood up and warbled a faint reendition of “Ah, non credea…” and then collapsed down in my chair. I was not mobbed in wild support, but I did see CA’s large eyes flutter in wonderment and I recall her saying generously something like, “Well, that is certainly NOT Martine’s normal voice, ladies!” Not only were my vocal chords scorched, my MORALE was ashes.
I managed to get through the rest of the Master Class, even performing a half-hearted version of “Ah, non giunge…” before calling it quits for the day. That night, I cried myself to sleep. I realised that my entire summer of hard work had been jeapordized, and I considered slashing my name off the audition sign-up sheet.
The next morning after a particularly potent Green Smoothie tonic, I re-determined that giving up was NOT an option, a la Winston Churchill, and that burned vocal chords or NOT, I was going to go into that Audition and giving them everything I had to give.
August 20, 2009
Throat somewhat healed after a week of partial voice rest and warm water gargling sessions in the shower, I warmed up my vocal chords singing some rather stunning notes at CA’s house, played around with the whistle register, and shopped for an “Opera Dress” with my friend, SU. I felt ready – but more importantly, I had decided that my goal for this Audition was no longer to be admitted into the BM Program, but simply to do my absolute best, kick butt, and have FUN!
So there I stood in the hallway of Room 162, waiting for my turn to go up, when one of the Programme leaders came out and said with furrowed brow, “What are you doing here?”
Oh boy… I looked at the list of singers for the day, and yes… you’ve got it. I WAS NOT on the list! I had warmed up and dressed up on the WRONG day! Brief moment of panic, followed by quick thinking response to the Goodly Professor, who shall heretofore be referred with no gender implication whatsoever as the Dark Lord, “Well, I have to work tomorrow and you only have a couple people today – would it be okay if I sang for you today, instead?”
*stoney silence from the Dark Lord*
Followed by, “I’ll ask the others.”
The Dark Lord disappears behind the doors of Rm 162, emerges a moment later and says with a stony expression that might be perceived as disappointment with the cohorts’ conclusion: “They said go ahead.” Vanishes again.
*chills*
So I sat there (and paced, occasionally) for the next 40 minutes, waiting to be admitted for my jury. And I prayed, and softly vocalized, and re-read my sheet music for the nine millionth time, and prayed some more.
By the end of the 40 minutes, when the Dark Lord emerged from the shadows for the final time to summon me into the misty (musty) Chamber of Doom, I was ready. My knees were no longer knocking, my throat felt open and alive, and I was READY! I had decided I simply DID NOT CARE what they thought anymore and I was going to sing for ME.
I sang… but I didn’t just sing. I laughed! I flirted! I was reckless and absolute, focused but aloof. I had FUN!!! Me!? FUN in an AUDITION! And when I reached the ending of my little song and soared up to the F6, suspended there for a few seconds, then glided down to a cheerful Bb, I ENJOYED it!
And when it was finally over, I laughed and bowed twice to the Faculty. The looks on their faces were priceless. I could see my coach, SK, beaming from his chair, and the leading Doctor looked truly surprised – pleasantly surprised, dare I hope?
Then the Dark Lord moved, leaned over in his chair, and said in a half-hushed voice to his colleague, “Do we even HAVE another soprano in the School who can sing that high note?”
I went outside while they deliberated, and SK came out to hug me and tell me that I had made him proud. I hugged him back and relished the moment – because I knew without a shadow of doubt that I had given my 100%, conquered my fears of the Dark Lord and the rest of the Horde, er, Faculty – and I didn’t care at ALL what they thought of me from now on – because I knew I rocked!!!
Then the Dark Lord emerged, whipped his robe behind him, handed me a sheet of paper and mumbled something about my being put into 185V and they were disappointed in me for only singing one song, could I please bring a more varied repertoire in December.
A brief flash of disappointment crossed my mind, but I laughed it off – no! I had given my best and had a blast doing it! I stuffed the paper in my purse and went bounding out to my car, elated in the knowledge that, even though I failed to get into the BM Program, I was STILL amazing! And, I had already determined that I was better off staying in the BA anyway, so I could graduate sooner, so… who cares!?
THE END
Not quite…
Part II
(Or…What Doesn’t Make You Laugh, Makes You Scream)
So, it’s 9:20pm at my house when I finally take the time to examine the sheet of paper the Dark Lord had handed to me after the audition. At this point, I’ve already told all my family and friends that I put on a great show, but was not admitted into the BM.
That’s when I notice that the sheet of paper has me in 185V voice class, at 4 units. I am instantly upset, figuring this means they’re DROPPING me in voice class level, and still doubling the number of songs I have to memorize!!! So, I call SK, my everlastingly long-suffering voice coach.
And he quietly tells me that, no, they are NOT dropping me in voice level. “Why would a BM student take lower level voice classes, anyway?” asks SK.
It takes fourteen clicks of the old brain for me to grasp what he just said. “BM what?” I whisper in disbelieving awe.
“Dauntless,” says SK in a patient tone, “You are in the BM Program now.”
That’s when I died, went to Heaven, and then was kicked out because, and I quote St. Peter, “We only allow smart people in Heaven.”
THE REAL END
Epilogue ————— After careful deliberation of at least five minutes, Dauntless decided to accept the generous offer of the Dark Lord and his followers and join their battle against the forces of Sanity. Arizona… where dreams go to die, burn to ashes, and resurrect like the glorious Phoenix. Bring it on, Dry Desert Devoid of Deciduous Declamation (…uh… trees)!!! I’ve got your number.