The Path of Most Resistance
In the Trenches
I almost succumbed to that temptress Berlin after the 2016-17 season. The Komische Oper Berlin is the hottest house in Germany, and Berlin itself is quite simply the coolest city in the world. At the Komische I absorbed high modernism, 1930s operetta, and the very best of German Regietheater, but I was working mostly as a pianist, which is only one aspect of my musical life. I knew that if I was to continue my artistic growth, I needed a broader set of challenges, so I happily migrated south to the Hessisches Staatstheater in Wiesbaden.
Before coming to Germany, I had conducted or worked on the music staff of three or four operas a year, and in doing so I had assembled a piecemeal operatic repertoire of warhorses like Trovatore and specialized American works like Gershwin and Weill (sorry Germans, Weill’s best music is American!) My new job in Wiesbaden afforded me the chance to learn the core repertoire, beginning with Wagner’s Tannhäuser, with which I fell in and then out of love. The music staff that I joined is phenomenally talented and I am continually astounded by colleagues who always inspire me.
To be on the music staff of a German repertoire house is to one day coach singers for the upcoming production of La Clemenza di Tito that begins in two months, the next day play piano for staging rehearsals of The Flying Dutchman, the next hour conduct an emergency rehearsal for the Pamina who’s jumping in for the evening’s Magic Flute, for which you also play the Papageno Glockenspiel in the orchestra, the next day assist a guest conductor who has only two orchestra rehearsals for the revival of Bluebeard’s Castle, the next day play a chamber music concert with some orchestral musicians, the next day conduct the offstage banda in Bohème, the next day is Sunday - day off! - but Meistersinger is on the horizon and that Beckmesser music is so damned hard!…and Scheiße!…I need to prepare to jump into conducting performances next month… The next day, the next day, the next day…
The concept of “jumping in” (einspringen) is very foreign to us Americans. Generally a singer or conductor or any other performer jumps in with little or no rehearsal, usually because of a change of personnel or a last minute illness. One of my proudest moments was after having jumped in to conduct Hansel and Gretel, having never conducted it before and with no rehearsal: the orchestra, enjoying their post-performance beers, honored me with a round of applause when I entered the Kantine. Jumping in is extremely risky, but when it works, say when a new Hans Sachs jumps into the eighth performance of Meistersinger, there’s nothing more thrilling in the theater.
I was embraced by generous friends and colleagues in Wiesbaden. Our Generalmusikdirektor Patrick Lange represents the very best of the German conducting tradition, and I’m continually astonished by his mastery of so much repertoire. Patrick’s assistant Christina Domnick is a magical voice-whisperer: she can polish any singer through subtle but insistent cultivation of every vowel and consonant; she’s also a fabulous Schubert four-hands partner. Down to his very DNA, Chordirektor Albert Horne knows every nook and cranny of the profession; he’s a consummate theater animal. Toward the end of my time at the house, I grew close to our intendant, the distinguished stage director Uwe Eric Laufenberg, whose fearless vision and creativity I love. The ensemble of singers became a family in and out of the theater, whether we’re consuming copious wine or working on Schubert. (Incidentally, baritone Benjamin Russell and I will soon complete our cycle of Schubert cycles with Winterreise.)
Working in the theater provides endless opportunities for growth as well as continual challenges. It compels you to learn more and do more than you think yourself capable of. In the middle of my second season in Wiesbaden I found myself longing for a return to my more eclectic musical roots. The theater management and my artistic colleagues graciously supported my decision not to renew for another season, and I remain grateful to my friends and colleagues from whom I learned so much.
“Artistic Destiny”
When I wrote Barbara Hannigan during my year in Berlin, I had no idea that it would lead to a new lease on my musical life. To my total delight, Barbara asked me to get on a plane for Zürich to meet while she conducted the Tonhalle Orchestra. She led a searing performance of Stravinsky’s Symphony in Three Movements and then sang and(!) conducted Berg’s Lulu Suite. Barbara’s warmth and openness are as infectious as her brilliance and passion, and I was thrilled to join her new Equilibrium initiative.
We Equilibrium Artists receive intensive time and coaching not only with Barbara, but also Jackie Reardon, master performance coach focusing on mental and psychological preparation for peak performance. Phyllis Ferwerda incorporates yoga in a way that hones the body, mind and heart for both on stage and off. Other luminaries like Daniel Harding and Natalie Dessay also shared their experiences with the ups and downs of the business. Bound by Barbara’s vision, we Equilibrium Artists have formed a bond deeper than mere colleagues and friends. We are comrades in music: taking risks, tackling our fears and performing with newfound freedom.
Our main Equilibrium project was Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress, which we intensively rehearsed in Paris before a European tour. I joined the tour in Munich and played the creepy harpsichord part with the Munich Philharmonic. This season I’ll continue with Equilibrium with new projects in Paris, Hamburg, Stockholm and Munich.
I consider my three years in the German fest system a wise investment and I have Barbara Hannigan to thank for helping me to “navigate my artistic destiny.” These were Barbara’s words - admonished in earnest, without irony - that encouraged me to examine my identity as an artist and take the risk of going freelance.
Taking Risks
Taking risks involves the frequent necessity of choosing a more difficult path - personally, artistically and professionally. It reminds me of my love of hiking, especially in the craggy landscapes of the American West. You encounter multiple trails to distant mountains, and none guarantee success in reaching the summit. Map and compass in hand (your training and the counsel of of trustworthy mentors and colleagues,) you choose a course which contains mountain streams (Schubert,) an abandoned chapel (Bach,) a glacier (Wagner,) a crater (Schoenberg,) a desert (Stravinsky,) a grove of aspen (Debussy,) a red rock arch (Beethoven,) a pristine lake (Mozart)… This is the path of most resistance. Where was the summit? Was it a mirage? I don’t know, but the vista along the way is pretty stunning.
