Time to Perform

‘So, have you fired a gun before?’

Not the first question you expect to be asked at 10 am on a Wednesday morning, the morning of many firsts. First time meeting the chorus, first time being on the stage at the Opera House and first time singing an actual aria in a theatre like this, first time I’ve performed German dialogue in front of a load of Germans and the first time I’ve messed up shooting a gun on stage (more about that later.)

As I mentioned at the end of my last blog, this week has been the lead up to my debut performance in Stuttgart, a moment I haven’t really spent much time considering despite it being the aim of the whole exercise. On Sunday 5^th of October, at 7pm, the curtain will come up on Der Freischütz with me playing the role of Killian. At about 7.15 my role will be complete and then at about 10 pm I will come out for a bow, probably having been forgotten by 99% of the audience (my wife is coming along, she’ll remember me I hope).

Prepare well – A ‘Freischütz revival’

Bettina Giese, the head of the Opera Studio here, had told me to make sure I was well prepared for the Freischütz staging rehearsals as there isn’t much time. She wasn’t joking.

My first stage rehearsal was at 10 am last Saturday, 8 days before the show opens. I had initially been called for 11 but received a text message at 2 am from the assistant director informing me of the change. This production is famous in Germany and is Stuttgart’s longest running staging of any opera. In fact during this run we will take part in the 150^th performance of the production. All of the Principles have been sent DVD’s of the production and the initial skill is to replicate what you have seen.  Frustratingly for me, the director wants me to replicate the performance from the production as filmed in 1982 not the 2008 one I saw, so much of the preparatory work I did was thrown out immediately.

After an hour of watching the right DVD and then running my scene alone the rest of the cast turn up, I am introduced as ‘Thomas Elvin from the Opera studio, his German isn’t great yet but we are working on the dialogues.’ The term ‘Opera studio’ feels almost like an insult and I immediately feel like a second class citizen. Inevitably as a result I want to make a good impression even more.

Twenty minutes later I am heading home, my scene having been run once in total, the dialogue a couple of times but there being no time for any more.

The next call is Monday. We run my sections twice but on this occasion it isn’t for my benefit as such as we have to work two sets of children into the scene. The kids laugh at my German pronunciation. I ask for more coaching.  

By Wednesday we are in the theatre for ‘stage rehearsals’. Before opening night I will have had three of these rehearsals on stage. On Wednesday it is a technical run-through, making sure the numerous technical aspects happen safely and correctly, like when the stupid English opera studio Tenor is meant to shoot a rifle but forgets to ‘cock’ it and fails to fire it at the right time so the chorus end up singing ‘victorious’ before anything victorious has happened.

In my defence, I was nervous. Very nervous.

It was my morning of many firsts.

At 945 I turned up to my dressing room to find the complete costume, including a tailor made hat as all the other hats in the ginormous costume cupboard didn’t fit my massive head. I would try and describe the costume to you, but I think on this occasion, pictures definitely speak louder than words.

At 10 am, whilst wearing my jolly Germanic costume, I was taught how to shoot a rifle by the lady in charge of the armoury, what a cool job. Most important thing, she said, was to make sure the safety cover is clear of the back of the bullet. Then ‘cock-it’, but only just before you are about to shoot, and never aim the gun at anyone. As most of you will know, even blank bullets let out a shot and can be extremely dangerous.

From Frau Armoury, that’s not her real name, I then went onto the stage. Here I was met by the whole chorus, there are probably 40 of them but at this moment it felt like hundreds. In what must be an attempt to make the soloists feel even more intimidated, the chorus are not in costume. Like all choruses, they are a very jolly bunch, banter flying, much laughter and chatter, and they are good. Award-winningly good. Everyone has told me how they are one of the best choruses in Germany and how most of the singers could be doing ‘our jobs’ as soloists. This of course makes the fact that I am about to sing in front of them that much more nerve wracking. To make this that bit worse I’m not only singing in German but I am also doing spoken dialogue, in German of course, in a 5 minute scene with three other singers, two of whom are have German as their first language and the other, an American, has been here for 30 years.

The first time we run the scene I psyche myself up… ‘come on Tom, you can do this’….. I prance to the front of the stage, down the not inconsiderable rake, grab the gun and go to shoot. I clear the safety cover and pull the trigger. Nothing. Oh, the chorus are now singing ‘victoria’, what to do with the gun. I haven’t cocked-it. OK, I’ll do that. Now its just unsafe. OK, I’ll shoot it anyway. Phew!..... Whats next? Oh yes, my aria. Whats the first line? Erm….. I can’t really hear the prompt. Bollocks. That’s it. Feel’s very low. It is a Baritone part anyway. Done. Great. Not so great, dialogue time. I am probably the least qualified person in the whole theatre to be doing German dialogue. Dialogue finished. Now for the long scene where I have to stand and react to the music for 5 minutes but am the only one on stage not actually singing (thanks Weber!!). That was easy. Last line of dialogue to do, what’s the first word? Oh yes, off I go. Finished!! I wonder if the audience could read my thoughts through that?

Inevitably, on this most petrifying of occasions the feedback was not 100% positive. ‘You need to be in the character more’ ‘Have you shot a gun before?’ ‘Do you know what it all means?’ If I had been rehearsing the show for a few weeks I may be upset by these questions, on this occasion I understand, I must have looked a bit like a doomed rabbit up there. I go home keen to improve on Thursday, the first rehearsal with the orchestra.

The thrill of the music

Our stage and orchestra rehearsal has a different dynamic to the technical one. The assumption is that the technical aspects will now all work and theoretically this rehearsal belongs to the conductor. The experience of Wednesday morning appeared to have rid me of nerves and suddenly I enjoyed myself. Even if the role I am singing is a baritone part and one that I will never sing again, the chance to sing with a great orchestra and on stage with a great chorus is inspiring. The difference between the piano and the orchestra is huge and the inspiration it gives transforms my performance. I receive very good feedback. What a relief!! Next…. The dress rehearsal and first night, both this weekend.

Away from Freischütz

Away from the whirlwind of being in a revival I continue to settle into Stuttgart life. At the moment Stuttgart is in the middle of Canstatter Wasen season, Stuttgart’s own version of Oktober fest. As a result half the people on the U-Bahn are wearing lederhosen or durndl and they are very drunk or well on the way.

Last Saturday evening three of the English singers here in Stuttgart, and I, met up for a drink and bite to eat.  The three singers were Henry Waddington, a Bass here rehearsing ‘Jakob Lenz’, Rebecca von Lipinski, a soprano in the Ensemble and John Graham-Hall, Tenor, who is also rehearsing ‘Jakob Lenz’. It had the potential to turn into another educational ‘how to be an opera singer’ evening and I was yet again grateful for the advice and stories from three working professionals. I found hearing the different challenges faced when balancing a career and a personal life particularly thought provoking as I consider my next step.

I was glad to meet and talk with John Graham-Hall, who I had last met in 1999 when I was 12 years old. On that occasion I was playing Paris the Boy in King Priam by Tippett in a concert performance at the Royal Festival Hall. John was singing the grown up Paris in a cast that also included Susan Bullock, Kurt Streit, Dan Norman and Brindley Sherratt. I seem to remember being quite overawed by the whole rehearsal process and also thinking that the adult soloists were the best singers I had ever heard. I was Head Chorister at St. Paul’s Cathedral at the time and such engagements with, in this case, BBC Wales and the like were one of the perks of the job. John told me some of his memories of the gig, of the dynamic between the fellow Principles and how big a gig he felt it was for him.

John and I also discussed writing, seeing as I am now a distinguished writer of a blog, and I was very interested to hear his experiences writing a novel, ‘My Wife the Diva’. I have since read the book and I thoroughly recommend it. It is very funny but also heart breaking and highlights many of the issues facing a career in Opera or the arts today.

Time to see the wife

During our dress rehearsal tomorrow my wife arrives in Stuttgart for the first time. It has been almost four weeks since I last saw her and it will be great to show her my temporary home, introduce her to my colleagues and have her there in the audience at my first performance.

This week I have found it particularly hard to be away from family and friends. I was delighted to receive a letter from a friend of mine who has fallen on very hard times. He sounded positive and hopeful for the future, I am only too aware that I can’t visit him from Stuttgart.

I am not the first member of my family to live abroad. This last week in fact we remember my Grandfather, Dr. Norman Cockett, who died on the 30^th of September 1964 in Ghana, aged just 36. Initially he had moved with his young family to India, where my father was born. In a world where even making a phone call back to England would have been a challenge, India must have felt a long way away. My Uncle Norman, my Fathers eldest brother, tells me that his father had a lovely tenor voice with similarities to mine which, having obviously never met him, gives me a nice feeling of connection to the past.

Fritz Wunderlich debut

Fritz Wunderlich, the great German Tenor, also died aged 36, two years later than my Grandfather in 1966.  The recordings of Wunderlich have always been an inspiration and I was thrilled to learn that he also made his professional debut in Stuttgart. Didn’t do him any harm! I better make the most of it.

I’ll let you know how it goes next week

Tom