OLC succeeding, aerial death…
Hey everyone.
So, the year is tiptoeing forward. Things are still slow musically. Not much news.
But Opera Language Circle is advancing great. We were 8 people last night- one of my “core” teachers, two people who came last week, two friends, and two people I didn’t know who had found us on NFCS. We all had a really good time. It was exciting to me that everyone tried so hard even on their worst languages, and kept English completely off-limits until we were done. What a change from the first meeting two weeks ago (has it been such a short time?) where I kept barking, “KEIN ENGLISCH! KEIN ENGLISCH!” Well we all worked really hard but ended up having a really good time- everyone not only said so, but gave off a really happy vibe. And all seemed really determined to come back next week, even those who thought they might be busy.
I think I spent too much time dominating the conversations- not because I’m the best at the languages (though if you average out the three I’m probably the best overall), but because I’m not afraid to open my big mouth. I have to work on making sure nobody clams up for half an hour. I tell them before they come “Yeah you can just listen,” but in reality I’m gonna make them talk!!!
The best part is (and this was one of my main goals) that I’m bringing industry people together who didn’t know each other before. We are already finding plenty of mutual friends and colleagues between those of us who had never met before. I love bringing people together, catalyzing friendships, making connections to help people find jobs, start projects, etc.
I put up a group on Facebook- I don’t know how to link to a Facebook group so just search for Opera Language Circle. I used it to post some links on language learning and lists of common words.
Other news. I didn’t want to put this at the top because I don’t want to bring anyone down. Aerial silk death last night. I found out about it this afternoon, and it we had a moment of silence in class tonight (because naturally he was a friend of my teachers. It’s a small world). Reading the news reports, at first it sounded like an aerial silk act, but then the latest information said he was using a metal chain? I dunno I suspect there might be some miscommunication there- somebody said “hanging by a chain” but they were referring to the rigging. ‘Cause doing a drop (which is what it sounds like he was doing) from a chain sounds REALLY painful, even if you don’t fall. Here is the latest article. Another article says a sash (sounds like silk), another says a ring (which makes no sense?).
I didn’t know this person (thank god ’cause I would be pretty upset), and this is gonna sound really insensitive, but I actually find this story reassuring. To know that in this day and age, in our super-sheltered culture, people still die for art. Not even just dying doing what you love (people always reference the musicians on the Titanic), but dying BECAUSE of what you love.
It’s also very grounding to be reminded that what we do is that dangerous. We always say it is, and we hurt ourselves all the time, but when somebody actually dies, it reminds people to respect the risks we take for their entertainment- and it reminds us to respect those risks, too. Sometimes I think it’s amazing that we’re allowed to do what we do. Yes, deaths are very rare, but in our lawsuit-driven, protective culture, it is a refreshing surprise that we can get away with doing something- both in class and as professionals- so dangerous, without anyone shutting us down or instating strict regulations on us.
And I still think it’s worth it.
So be careful this week, everyone. But not TOO careful. 
Opera Language Circle marches on!!!
After a week’s linguistic repose, Opera Language Circle’s second meeting took place yesterday. But not in the manner I’d expected.
After our first preliminary meeting to test the waters, I went public with my pet project, posting it on NFCS. The response was overwhelmingly positive, though of course a lot of the comments were of the “great idea but I can’t come” variety. But the announcement was made, and we were official.
I was an unhappy camper Tuesday, not feeling like doing much of anything, but convinced myself that all I needed was to sit at Amrita and have some drinks with my friends and laugh and stumble my way through some languages. Talking and eating and drinking with my friends always makes everything better.
The problems started at 2pm. My German guru, Jenny, called and explained to me in a breathless flurry about her misadventures in grant writing, which would probably-possibly prevent her presence that night. We agreed that she’d try to come late, and she sincerely intended to, but I could tell from the sound of things that I wouldn’t be able to count on the stars aligning for that.
Now, Jenny is the last person who I could have cancelling, because she’s the only German guru. But whatcha gonna do- we’d get by somehow. If nothing else I could lead a really basic conversation and we could play with phrase books.
Then Sarah, my French partner in la crime, who had been asking me just hours earlier about the food at Amrita, texted that she was going home sick from school. Aghh! My group was falling apart! Yeah I speak plenty of French to carry on a conversation til the sun comes up, but I’m very sloppy with grammar and my vocab is slipping. Sarah’s my go-to gal for when I have a question about French. But at least I could carry on the conversation.
At 7:00, when the meeting was to start, I was tearing apart my apartment, because I couldn’t find my keys, so I couldn’t leave. I’m frantically texting and calling Sal and Anne, my Italian gurus, to tell them to FIND the new people, DON’T LET THEM LEAVE, and hold down the fort until I got there, as soon as I found my keys.
Sal and Anne both text back that they’re stuck at work and won’t be getting free in time for the meeting at all.
So my entire group is scrambled eggs. And it’s only the second meeting. Not a good sign. And I was expecting people from NFCS. I felt so embarrassed- and afraid they would get to Amrita, not find us anywhere, and go home and never come back. And I really need to build up my group.
I finally found my keys- they were where they were supposed to be, except under a magazine- ran to Amrita with all my grammar books in a tow, and rushed into the bar, scouring the room for people who looked like lost singers.
I saw a girl with a stack of dictionaries in front of her. 
It was one of the people from NFCS, who had come with her husband. In a whoosh of words and ordering whiskey (yeah I had already had like 3 glasses of wine at home, like I said rough day), I explained that my whole group had bailed on me, but that we were gonna make this happen.
I went on the prowl around the bar. Within one minute I had secured us a German. He was in New York for the first time on vacation. I bought him a beer and sat him down at our table.
The conversation went great! For a non-teacher, he was sooo good at correcting our grammar. He spoke English so was able to explain things that we didn’t grasp. I had so much fun. We actually went over the 30 minutes without realizing it!
He actually spoke some French, so he stuck around while I led the French dialogue, which was mostly me soliloquizing about my time in Paris and checking every other sentence to make sure everyone understood me.
Now Italian was going to be tricky. It was all of our worst languages, and it was clear that Anne wasn’t going to make it in time. I walked around the bar but didn’t find anyone who was speaking Italian, or who looked Italian, so I returned to my seat and proposed that we attempt to fudge our way through it for 15 minutes, and if one of my gurus showed up by then we’d continue, but if not we’d put it to rest there.
So we started talking about basic things, and the GUY AT THE TABLE NEXT TO ME jumps into our conversation in Italian. Ok so this guy was Indian. Indian-American. I never would have pegged him for an Italiophone. (Is that the word?) But I dragged his chair over to our table and exlaimed, “E il nuovo proffessore d’italiano!!” and forced him to talk to us for the rest of the 15 minutes. How freaking funny is that. He was like getting his doctorate in Italian at Columbia.
Yeah because LEAVE IT TO AMANDA WHITE. I will pull shit like this off. Voila.
Hope to get the regulars back next week. Actually I think Anne is out of town. Anybody else want to be an Italian guru?
See y’all there.
Opera Language Circle launches
My latest brainchild, hee hee!
I started a club this week. It’s called Opera Language Circle!
So basically we get together on Tuesday nights and have foreign language conversation. Half an hour in French, half an hour in Italian, and half an hour in German. (That’s the order we did it in the first time but I hope to change it up each time- people were getting lazy and tipsy by the time we got to German…) These are the main languages that singers have to study. Most of us know a little bit of each, or maybe speak one of them pretty well, but we’re all “supposed” to speak all three somewhat fluently, and pretty much no one does.
I can’t even remember how this idea formulated, but I have enough friends who specialize in one or the other language, and who are interested in learning the others. I speak French, as does my friend Sarah, who I sang with in Paris and who now lives in NY. My girl Anne speaks Italian, and so does our friend Sal- we all used to sing in the same church choir. And my friend Jenny, who was double cast with me in Ruddigore, speaks fluent German. So we are making up the core of the group. Now I’m trying to bring in more people, lots more people, to join us. My main concern now is to get enough people (and some who are fluent in each language) to let the meetings go on weekly even when I or some of my official regulars can’t be there.
So this week was what I called a preliminary meeting- just the five of us. I invited other people I know, but didn’t make public announcements. I wanted us to try it out first among friends, see how it went, what changes needed to be made, etc.
First problem: EVERYBODY was late. Except me. Even my most responsible person I know in the whole world was late. I was pretty embarrassed sitting there taking up two tables in the cafe by myself, with my dictionaries and verb books spread all over the place.
But finally everybody got there, and we took off in French. It was harder than people expected- ten minutes into it I heard cries of “c’est la torture!”- but even my “no French at all” person started finding that she could figure out enough to join in the conversation, which made me really happy!!!
Then we switched to Italian. I was able to say things, but I felt like my grammar was all over the map. I could follow 100% of the discussion, though. That’s encouraging.
Finally we moved onto German. This is where things got tricky- Jenny was the only one who really spoke German. I was in a distant second- I had three years of it in high school and placed out of it in college. I had to be the taskmaster and keep snapping at everyone to stop chatting in English. I’ll have to make sure the rules are absolutely clear before we start next time- speak the language or shut up! Fortunately, somebody had a German phrase book with a very colorful page on sex talk, so we all learned a few things.
The officially condoned activities, if you don’t speak the language, are listen and try to follow the conversation, study on your own or with another beginner, or, if you must speak English, go sit at the bar.
Overall though I felt like everyone was pleasantly surprised to find that they could do more than they thought they could. That was very uplifting to me. It’s one of my main purposes in bringing this group together. I used to teach ESL and my task was always to get students to not be afraid of speaking and listening. Same thing here. People are so scared to try out the language skills they’ve learned in school! Come on, it’s not that bad, see?
Soooo now to help it grow. It’s not just for opera singers- everyone is welcome as long as they’re willing to study all 3 languages. So you the reader can come join us on Tuesday nights at Cafe Amrita, 310 W 110th st, NYC. As long as you’re not creepy. I hate putting my whereabouts on the internet. Creepy people and fans who just want to hang out with me please censor yourself out of the picture. Thx.
Everybody else, I hope to see you there!!!
Love always,
Amanda White
Ravenswood’s unrightful ruler
I’m at my parents’ house in the Chicago suburbs, and 90% of what’s on the news and talk radio is Blagojevich. Since it’s local news, I learned something I hadn’t known otherwise: Blagojevich is a resident of Ravenswood Manor.
Anyone else feel a connection here? Another ruler of another Ravenswood, selling his sister for financial and political gain… I especially like the way that, as I was fact-checking my memories of the plot differences between the book and the opera, Literary Encyclopedia describes how Ashton took the property by “dubious legal means.”
I’m holding my breath that at the next poetry reading, he recites Sir Walter Scott.
Sorry, i cant sing because..,
I’m on the M60 to LaGuardia- heading to Chicago and then Indianapolis for some post-holiday family time. What a day to fly- full of pouring rain, damp chill, and “wintery mix”- the most dreaded words in natural disaster-free area meteorology. To top it off, I’m flying standby, thanks to a relative in the airline industry- which, by the way, is neither free nor all it’s cracked up to be. Last time I did it I missed Christmas with my family after being at the airport all day because they couldn’t fit me in. But tix to Chicago were ridic expensive so I decided to try this again.
I was going to fly yesterday til I realized I had to sing an epiphany service at church.
I had one problem at the service, and you’ll never guess what it was.
I’d pulled a pec muscle the day before.
I know- only me. And it’s not the first time. I can’t even begin to explain mechanics of the complicated and creative way in which I hurt myself- suffice to say I was attempting an acrobatic stunt. At home, not in class.
How does this affect singing, you ask? Well if it were opera it wouldn’t have, but in a choral setting it was debilitating. The problem was that I couldn’t hold my music.
I first realized this when I was practicing after a trip to pedelson’s to get some scores. Pedelson’s, btw, failed me, so I had to trek over to Juilliard- but they had a very nice “yellow sticker sale’” with some intriguing markdowns. Lots of G&S, and I resisted buying cendrillon- marked down from $100 to $66- so that’s still there, snap it up before I change my mind!!!
So I’m home practicing with my new Sorcerer score in my left hand, where it belongs. Why do right-handed singers hold their music in their left hands? A few reasons. 1st off, from where sopranos are normally positioned in the chorus, the conductor is to your left, so it’s easier to see him. Secondly, any good musician will be marking her score with a pencil, so if you’re right- handed, your left is for holding and your right is for writing and turning pages.
At least, those are my theories.
So I’m practicing, and I realize it hurts to hold my music. So I’m like, “ow, screw this” and prop it up on my dresser. Problem solved.
Until I get to church. After a few minutes of singing, my left chest is killing me. So I simply switch hands- no problem, right?
WRONG!! It was so hard trying to hold my music in my right hand. 15 years of choral singing seems to have created some sort of imbalance in my upper body. My arm and pecs were tired, I kept dropping things- I dealt with it by holding as little music as possible at once. But damn- I’m a strong girl! No wonder high school kids never look at the conductor- they haven’t developed the strength to hold their music up for that long!
It reminds me of after my surgery, the first time I went out drinking (the night the Red Sox won their last World Series), I couldn’t believe how hard it was to hold a pint in my left hand. It was heavy!
So everybody try holding their music on the oposite side and see what happens!
Off to a surreal start
People have the tendency to make predictions about the New Year based on their New Year’s Eve experience and/or their first moments after midnight. Using this methodology, I am starting off on a real rough-and-tumble, yet rewarding, 2009.
Back during Ruddigore rehearsals, my friend and double showed me pics of a performance art/dance/modeling gig she had done, dressed up in a spandex costume with these crazy things around it- I have no better way to explain, except it was called an “Hourglass Diva”- and I was like OMG THAT’S SO COOL!!!! I WANT TO DO THAT TOO!!
So she referred me to the company, who were happy to take me on, with my “dance background” looking pretty decent on paper, even though in reality I’m a total klutz who got a C in my college tap class.
I wasn’t able to do any of their other shows, but when they sent out a call for New Year’s Eve performers, I jumped on it. My friend Philine’s birthday is New Year’s Day, and to celebrate we had tickets to the 2am Amanda Palmer concert. So I didn’t really have any commitments before then, just to hang out at the before-party at Philine’s.
So I was booked for the gig, along with my friend who referred me in the first place. But it wasn’t for the hourglass thing, it was for something called a “Performance Ribbon.” They attached a picture- 5 people in black spandex suits, covering their faces, manipulating one giant malleable ribbon. I didn’t really “get it” from the picture- I figured it’s something you had to see in motion.
The gig was part of the opening ceremonies for the Midnight Run, a fun run the Road Runners host annually: “Where you’re guaranteed to run your best time in 2009 so far!” I’ve never done it, but considering that I am (was?) a runner, and have run the NYC Marathon (a Road Runners event) among others, I thought it was a charming coincidence.
So the day before, we got together for a rehearsal, which I thought would take 45 minutes but really took 3 hours. (2.5 on paper, but then we were helping load things up.) The concept was pretty easy- you just follow the person in front of you, like a roller coaster. I was dead center, which was a pretty safe place to be- I was in a good position to use my (superhuman!) strength to help speed up or slow down the pacing as needed, and to make sure the ribbon maintained its proper arch and torque, depending on the particular pose. Unfortunately I used my superpowers a little too much, and actually broke one of the ribs in the ribbon early on in the rehearsal, and we had to stop and replace it.
The one disadvantage to being in the middle was that I couldn’t really see what the finished product looked like- the people in front or back could get a decent view, but I was too much in the thick of it. So I still don’t really get what the whole thing looks like.
OK so funny thing, whenever I was telling people about this, they assumed it was part of my aerial/circus stuff. So, just to clarify- no relation whatsoever.
We also tried on our spandex body suits. Yeah they were kind of hard to see out of. But my big problem was that I couldn’t really open my eyes. I don’t know whether it’s more because of the shape of my face (I don’t have a big nose and have a very retiring chin) or because I have really, really long eyelashes (I guess whatever hormones make my hair grow so long apply to my eyelashes as well), but the spandex was pressing against my lashes so that it was hard to open my eyes at all. They promised to bring me goggles.
New Year’s Eve I had a full plate. First, I had an hour and a half rehearsal with my kind of band. We were supposed to be auditioning a new bass player. Except I couldn’t get ahold of our drummer in time to schedule the rehearsal, so we were using Ross’s drummer from another project, whom I’d never met.
I’m really regretting having scheduled this today, as my plate is too full as it is, but I’m excited to meet the bass player. I spend the subway ride to the rehearsal space writing out charts for Monica’s Getting her Tits Done for Ross and the bass player. I get to our room, sit down, and right at that moment- at 6:27, for a 6:30 rehearsal- I get a text from the bass player saying that something’s come up and he can’t make it. Goddam it!!!! However, the drummer has listened to our tracks including the secret unfinished ones that you’ve never heard!) and is totally game to play anyways, so we rehearse anyways.
The rehearsal is awesome!!! We played most of our rep, and everything sounded great! I was especially happy that the drummer got a particularly weird meter change that we have in one of our unpublished songs, that is one of the true tests to me of whether a guy knows his stuff or not.
So we really had a great time- and it’s been a long time since we’ve been able to have a really good rehearsal, since we don’t have a full line-up- we are always either not rehearsing, or auditioning someone who sucks. Occasionally we audition someone good who then proceeds to flake after that. Eh, such is the life of a wannabe rockstar. So in the end, the rehearsal which I had been regretting scheduling turned out to be one of the high points of my day.
I had a short time at home to get changed into the warmest black clothes I could find. We couldn’t wear our coats, but we could wear anything black we wanted that would fit under our spandex suits, which were surprisingly baggy! I put on my insulated running tights under black yoga pants, two layers of Icebreaker sweaters that I bought for Bolivia, and my heaviest hiking socks. I also had a hat and running gloves. I was as warm as I was gonna get.
When I got to the bandshell, I waited in the performers’ tent, where they had hot coffee and cookies, and a really small, really weak space heater that everyone was gathered around. We all just sat around bundled up for an hour trying to keep warm, while a costume contest was going on outside. We also walked around and the group leader explained where our line would go- we’d snake out in front of the stage, go up on both side stages one at a time (they were really small), and then lead the way to the start line. We were scared when we saw how small, dark, and unsafe the little stages were- way smaller than what we had been planning on, and one of them had no railings. It’s hard enough to see outside at midnight when you don’t have black spandex over your face.
We got dressed and I could see much better with the goggles on under my mask, but they were tinted so that was a whole other handicap in the dark.
As we filed out with our ribbon, waiting for our start signal, we were freezing our asses off. I’m trying to look it up and it looks like the wind chill was about 1 degree. It feels colder when you don’t have a coat! I did a little stomping dance in my black alien suit, trying to keep warm and stay in character.
As soon as we were off, it was a nightmare. I had no idea where we were going, I could just barely see the person in front of me. Getting onto the first stage was tricky, climbing the steps and even finding the steps. I think one of the stage managers was travelling alongside us, telling us when and where to go, and she unfortunately led us right over a little snow bank- not realizing apparently that we couldn’t see where we were going? I mean, come on- it’s the middle of the night and I have BLACK SPANDEX OVER MY FACE. So I totally wiped out on the snow bank. I mean I completely fell and slammed into the ground. It was not subtle, I did not slip and catch myself- I tumbled head over heels into the snow. Then I saw the line leader do the same thing. Not cool.
It got worse. When we got up to the second stage, the cold became so biting that I lost feeling in my hands. I was wearing really good gloves under my costume, but it was just so cold, and we had our arms raised in the air holding onto the ribbon. I saw my friend in front of me trying to take her hands off the ribbon one at a time during held poses so she could blow on her fingers, and did the same- they felt frighteningly cold against my face. We stood up on that second stage for a few minutes, barely moving, and it became so agonizing that I literally thought they might cancel the rest of our performance and take us back into the tent to get warmed up. My eyes were tearing up and I was whimpering and moaning, as were my colleagues. But no such luck- we were led on and on and on, through the crowds of people going “COOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and “OMG WHAT ARE THOSE PEOPLE!!!!” and “LOOK, ALIENS!! OR NINJAS OR SOMETHING!!!” It was a small consolation to know that we looked awesome from the outside. Oh, and some bitch yelled at me for brushing against her. UMMM, DID YOU NOT SEE THE GIANT GLOWING SNAKE BEING HELD UP BY 5 PEOPLE COMING TOWARDS YOU, AND DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CAN SEE WHERE I’M GOING?!?!?!?!?!?! My blindness was multiplied by 10 when the tears I had shed when my hands went painful and then numb caused my goggles to fog up. I could literally almost not even see the ribbon, even though it was blacklit and glowing.
We just kept walking and walking and I had no idea where we were, but apparently we reached the start line and did some circles and then we were free to speedwalk back to the tent. I was stumbling and bumping into everything, people, I even knocked over a garbage can (I never saw it but I heard it fall). We finally got back to the tent and tore off our costumes, and my friend and I made a break for the space heater. (I think the other girls had gotten some hand heat packets from the dancers who went on before us.)
OK you all know I have a high pain tolerance, that’s why I’m an aerialist and a marathoner, but when the feeling came back into my hands, it hurt so bad that I just criend and cried, and asked if anyone had any Percoset. It was just terrible pain. I’m used to numbness- I used to be an artists’ model, try holding a single pose without moving for hours at a time and you get comfortable with the feeling in your extremities fading in and out with often painful consequences- but I’d never had its parting greeting by that much burning. Somebody asked me if I needed to go to the ambulance, but I said I would be fine, and that the pain was a good thing because it meant I could feel, and I just wanted some Advil. But nobody had anything, which was okay because after a few minutes I was totally back to normal. I felt like a baby but it really just hurt that much.
It was 11:55 by the time I came to my senses, and just as I was getting ready to take off, I heard the countdown. The next thing you know, we had the best view in the entire world of the fireworks. Right in Central Park, just blocks away from where they were launched, standing in the doorway of a fenced off tent by ourselves. It was impossible not to feel better.
Until I got to the subway and found my 30-day MetroCard had expired at midnight. Happy Frickin’ New year.
It was 12:45 by the time I got home. Philine and posse were planning on leaving from her place at 1:30, and I was a mess and needed to get changed and cleaned up, so I called, bagged out of the fore-party, and planned to meet them there when the doors opened at 2.
I felt much better after a fresh coat of make-up (and after getting my hair unzipped from my coat, which took several minutes), and got a subway really fast. Unfortunately it was stopped for ages at one station. I wondered if somebody jumped on the tracks. It is the holidays, after all. Everybody dies during the holidays. So I didn’t get there til late, but there was a really long line to get in anyways.
The concert was great- she played a song by Muse, who are probably my favorite living band. That was a big joy for me. I talked to a bunch of people (much to the annoyance of some fans, during the quiet songs- but I’m making friends, that’s a good thing!) Anyways I got home after 6 and I felt pretty darn good. So yeah there were some rough patches, but in the end I had fun.
Happy New Year.
