Opera: The enemy within

I am not a singer by trade and even otherwise would not call myself one.  But I do sing a fair bit in my free time and have taken time to read (or watch) the extensive amount of literature on proper vocal function available on the internet.  I have learnt that many of the principles taught by Western voice instructors are essentially based on bel canto and, to satisfy my curiosity, listened to the great opera singers and read up on them (though, emotionally, that kind of singing is not really for me).

A theme I have noticed in recent writing on opera is the multitude of rants by opera singers or followers of opera against the trend of some singers masquerading as opera singers when, apparently, they are not.   It goes like this:  somebody (say Jackie Evancho or Andrew De Leon) sings a classical aria (usually Nessun Dorma!) on a reality TV show and instantly get incredible airtime and the kind of youtube hits that only Psy can hope to best.   In short, they get popular ‘overnight’ while opera singers toil day in day out (singing without a mike, please note) with little recognition.  Said critics are at pains to point out that merely singing a classical aria with a so called operatic sound (and there’s no such thing as that, to be very precise) does not make one an opera singer.  I have some views about this, which I’d like to elaborate on.  Yeah, a rant of my own.

First off, I do agree with the limited point made by the critics (much to the consternation of Jackie’s millions of devotees, I presume).   The point is well taken that merely singing an aria with that supposedly serious and ‘big’, ‘mature’ tone does not make one an opera singer.  As I said before, opera singers have to sing without amplification and still project their voice in a hall.   With my limited knowledge of singing, I can still appreciate the difficulty of this.

Meantime, I’d like to point out two things.  (1) ‘We’ who sing rock/pop and such other light music also sing over instruments that are ‘amp-ed’ (usually in a very loud and intrusive way with near zero dynamic range if you’re in India) so unless you have a very helpful engineer, your voice would get drowned out unless you project your voice properly.  So I’d contest the lofty claim made by some opera followers that non-classical singers do not know how to sing.  There’s no doubt, though, that a non classical singer would likely find it very difficult to project voice as well as an opera singer without amplification.  (2) Projection of voice in classical singing is also about acoustics, not just volume.  When I once watched a mezzo soprano sing arias with piano and had a good seat, she was very clearly audible to me, every nuance of it.   But when I watched a performance of Beethoven’s Symphony no.9 in a hall with seats arranged in an incline, I found it harder to grasp the details of their singing.  When the acoustics of the venue are favourable, they aid the task of the opera singer.

This is not to take away from the difficulty of what they do and they are indeed the super-athletes of the singing world.  I have no reservations in echoing that claim made of their talents.   I can sympathise with their angst at seeing the technical excellence of their craft being devalued as opera somehow comes to stand for a ‘sound’ rather than a technique, a very demanding one, of singing.  But I’d like to probe into the source of this confusion.   How did the public get familiar enough with opera to hail somebody who sings an aria as a special talent?

To answer this question, I reflected on how I myself got familiar with the word ‘opera’ long before I really began to get any handle over what it really was.   To be precise, who were the first few names that I recognised as opera singers and why.   Why, Luciano Pavarotti, of course, and the famous football stadium concerts.

And this is important.   The person who popularised the notion of opera as a sound or style rather than vocal function was somebody from,er, the fraternity.  Not all alone, of course, they were three of a crowd.  The Three Tenors – Pavarotti, Carreras and Domingo.   Domingo is quoted thus, “I understand the complaints of the purists. But I do not want purists to go to the Three Tenors”.  So much, then, for respect for the core fanbase.

I will choose not to infer whether the whole thing was orchestrated in pursuit of commercial success and $$$ or a genuinely noble desire to spread the word about opera and take it to the masses.   But the point is, it is a dilution of what opera is essentially about.  Singing with amplification at Dodger stadium is not opera.  The catch, unfortunately, is that the singers indulging in this were tenors and three of the very best in the history of opera at that.   It immediately conferred tremendous legitimacy on ‘opera-genre’ singing and made the other, sweaty, hard working kind of opera relatively irrelevant, except of course to loyal opera followers.

And yet, while The Three Tenors business was criticised in some quarters at the time, I do not see nearly the same amount of scorn heaped on the singers who executed it as on little, innocent Jackie Evancho.   She is just a kid, most probably doing what somebody said she should.  The three gentlemen however knew all about opera and therefore knew what they were doing.

And where does opera go from here?  They could take a tough view and disown the legacy of Pavarotti but perhaps the individual has (had) already become larger than his chosen field in this case and to disown him might be to disown opera.   Whole hearted acceptance of this might pave, well, an Autobahn to stardom for the Evanchos and opera might as well cease to exist.  And so, they choose not to talk about Three Tenors when the conversation is about Pavarotti and to condemn the Evanchos in the hope of educating readers about ‘real’ opera.  Ah, but when the greatest superstar of ‘real’ opera is not satisfied with the real thing, then what do you do?

The irony is that the masses still recognise that opera implies something difficult even if they may not process the technical reasons why.  Also, the answer given by those who dislike these exhortations by critics not to call it opera is uncannily similar to Domingo’s words, “At least a few more million people would have heard about opera because of him/her.  Be happy and quit being resentful.”    Dare I say it, but this is typical of the uncomfortable dilemmas Westerners (in particular, those attempting to stand for ideals of some sort) seem to face more and more often lately.   Perhaps, the time for “Do as I say” is over and more of “Do as I do” is the need of the hour.  I am thankful I got to acquire invaluable knowledge about singing from the right people rather than mountebanks masquerading as experts.   I hope that that will be possible in the distant future as well but that would depend on enlightened leadership making the right choices rather than picking a fall guy to blame.

P.S:  I am not a big believer in bashing a strawman and I did not. So I am going to link the articles that I referred to here:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/susanne-mentzer/opera-voices_b_1834809.html

http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/culture/stevesilverman/100061641/katherine-jenkins-hasnt-got-the-voice-or-the-technique-to-sing-opera-so-why-does-she-pretend-that-she-can/

http://www.trcommons.org/2011/06/prodigy-or-why-i-don%E2%80%99t-like-jackie-evancho/

Neethane en ponvasantham: a masterclass in dynamics

I have been going through a strange phase in life, where I am getting back in touch with things that I had enjoyed not so long ago but forgotten for sometime.  Simple things like playing carrom, watching business news channels (not very appetizing, I know), picking up Reader’s Digest, etc.  In the same time, two superstars whose achievements I have followed for a long time enjoyed a resurgence.  One was Roger Federer, who ended his longest grand slam drought this year at Wimbledon.  The other, of course, is the return of the king, Ilayaraja, with the Neethane En Ponvasantham soundtrack.

It seems Gautham Menon wanted to bring back melody in film music when he approached Ilayaraja.  I had a different reason to look forward to a Raja OST for a big banner film – dynamics.   I listen to lots of rock and jazz and like it when the music is dynamic instead of all the notes played the same way again and again.   And if there is one person in Indian film music who does use dynamics very well, it is Ilayaraja.

Of course, Ilayaraja has not been inactive by any means and has come up with superb tunes every once in a while even in the last decade or so.  But I hoped that the budget that a big banner release could afford him would result in better recording quality, something which has plagued memorable tracks like Enakku Piditha Paadal (Julie Ganapathy), which in turn would hopefully capture dynamic contrast in sharp detail.

And from the moment the Sunidhi Chauhan-rendered Muthal Murai crashed out of the blocks, I knew my hopes would not be dashed.  It was like Sangeetha Meham all over again, with some riders.   One, there is a simmering tension in this track which is more reminiscent of Ananda Raagam.  Two, the recording quality is way better (especially if listened to on a good set of speakers at a hefty volume instead of any old crappy earphones).   Three, it’s never going to feel like the first time I heard Sangeetha Meham which was pure musical discovery, no matter how good it is.   But the crisp, clear and full sound did complete justice to the fabulous playing of the musicians.   An aspect which I had discounted or not been aware of, but Ilayaraja’s ‘friends’ from Hungary really raised the bar and the crackling drum fills were worlds apart from the rendering on songs from his hey day in the 80s.

This aspect is most evident in the dramatic Sattru Mumbu but it also lends that vital verve to a more pleasant, lighthearted track like Kaatrai Konjam.   The reason I attach a lot of importance to dynamics is more subconscious than anything:  I just like to feel the music, feel the sticks crashing on the drum skins, feel the vocal cords straining and relaxing, feel the bow over the violin strings and so on.   Ilayaraja’s music always had all of this and with this super duper recording, the effect is enhanced.   I would not consider this soundtrack a masterpiece but it still feels like an oasis given the state of things in the film music scene.  Which brings me to….

A news report on the NEP soundtrack mentioned a whopping 1 lakh advance copies sold and the audience’s enthusiastic reception of the soundtrack.  I quote, “After several years, people were really thrilled to listen to some soulful music away from electronic instruments”.

Hmmm, I am a bit circumspect about all this.  I sense a mania for real instruments, real feeling and more ‘real’ things lately.   The way critics raved about Fiona Apple’s The Idler Wheel is a case in point.  Oh yes, it was a beast of an album, a masterpiece to me (and many others).   But why the disenchantment with the synth stuff?

After raving about NEP, I was listening again to the Endhiran soundtrack. I feel A R Rahman captured the energy of the Indian/Jeans years again in this soundtrack and while it was out and out commercial, it was enjoyable at full blast on the speakers.  Not to be taken seriously, but entertaining.  Yeah….

So the reason I am cautious about this new wave of old school is around the time ARR had hit the bigtime, critics had written advance obituaries for the sake of the orchestra.   Composers claimed keyboards had advanced to the point where they could reproduce all kinds of instrumental sounds on it and wouldn’t need an orchestra anymore.   In less than two decades (and somewhat longer than that in the West), music seems to have come full circle.

It is an inflection point in the evolution of the music business.  The influence it exerted over mainstream culture has steadily, but vastly, diminished over the years.  I remember the Bombay/Dil Se years vividly.  I have never since seen music induce such emotions from a large section of the audience again.   When I watched the final part of the Nolan-Batman trilogy in theater, the audience got up and clapped at the end of the movie.  That kind of stuff… it’s gone.  Music is now just some stuff to play on the car stereo or restaurants for a lot of people.  It always was just that for lots of people, but up to the 90s it could capture the imagination of the youth, before they got jobs and got boring.  For better or worse, bands like Metallica and Linkin Park did.  The last band to do so was probably Slipknot.   I don’t like any of them, by the way, barring the early stuff of Metallica, but that’s not the point.

Searching for that level of engagement with the audience, musicians seem to be returning to old tricks in the hope of capturing an older demographic (maybe because they remember what old school music sounded like and it might whet their nostalgic yearning).   No problemo, but will it just be another passing cloud, like the synth obsession?  If so, what next after people get bored of instruments again?

Was it that we the listeners were not adventurous enough in embracing electronic sounds?  Or was it that too many musicians got a bit too enthusiastic and did not adequately humanize these electronic sounds (like Radiohead)?  Whatever it is, it is an interesting juncture in the journey of music.  For now, I will enjoy both worlds, happy that the old school is not dying out yet and happy also that it may take a bit more than just that to completely wipe out the new.

Whitney Houston (RIP) and my disconnect with pop culture

Pop diva Whitney Houston, 48, passed away on Sunday.  I was never a huge fan of her or that approach to singing per se but knew she was a talented singer.  When I read her obituaries, I became curious about reports of disappointing performances in 2009 and thereabouts.  Perhaps, I shouldn’t have got curious because what I read wasn’t pleasant.

Apparently, her voice was shot and raspy and she struggled in her comeback gigs, unable to reach the famous high note on I Will Always Love You.  That wasn’t really so surprising because it happens with age and especially to singers who put such extreme demands on their voice.  Houston wouldn’t have been the first or last singer whose voice failed.

What did sting was how the media tore her to shreds for it.  Footage of fans demanding refunds was played and the line “Houston, we have a problem” repeated.  I can relate to criticism and would always support pointing out of serious flaws.  There is no need to make believe that somebody who once was a great singer was flawless and ageless.  But the sentiment expressed in these reports was as if Houton had cheated audiences by not living up to expectations based on what she could do, what, 13-14 years back.   I remember a fan quote which was along the lines of, “If you charge superstar fees, you must produce superstar results as well.”

Initially, I was in disbelief.  I realized slowly that I have never seen the full blast of pop culture in this country, certainly not in connection with singers.  I have seen archival footage of faltering performances by an aging Talat Mehmood.  I remember a Lata Mangeshkar concert organized in the 90s.  Of course, she was touted to still have the golden throat and all that and I wasn’t buying it for a minute.  It was not the most edifying experience, let’s leave it at that.  S Janaki’s farewell concert was a struggling affair too.

At least all these singers were old enough that people weren’t too disappointed to see their voice fail.  But Mohammed Rafi began to decline when he was in his 40s.  Swarnalatha evidently had some problems through the noughties (which were mercifully not played up) and eventually succumbed to some lung disease.

But so what, I reasoned.   How many times is a singer supposed to prove himself/herself?   A singer’s prowess may fade with the passage of time; surely, people can’t feel cheated about it.  I know they say that a singer is as good as his last performance and I would not suggest that a once-great faltering singer should be somehow accommodated.  But it would surely be no great shock to know that a pop singer in her 40s had lost her most precious gift?

I then paid more attention to that fan’s rant, particularly the first half of it.  Superstar fees.  Apparently,  tickets for that ill fated Australian tour of 2009 cost $200.  I have no clue what was the actual figure.  But I wouldn’t be surprised if the tickets had in fact been priced so steeply.  I could then put the censure she attracted for those performances in perspective.

So, was Houston eventually just a cash cow for promoters of these shows?  Did they not know that the backlash would be severe if her voice didn’t hold up?  Would it not have been prudent for her to soft launch her comeback?  Wasn’t the billing for that ‘comeback tour’ unrealistic if deep down, the people involved knew what she could and couldn’t deliver?

The answer is, not really, it’s not that simple.  Houston may have well known her voice was shot beyond repair.  She had been having problems from 1994 onwards and it was only getting worse with the passage of time.  Perhaps, she needed the money.  Perhaps, the easiest way to make money was to massively promote a comeback trial and book tours banking on her reputation?

And why not, really?  It makes sense when you look at it that way.   The promoters got a lucrative show, she got money she may have needed badly, the media…er, the media got stories to go to town with.  And what of her legacy, what of her integrity then?  Why would a singer want to expose herself to stinging criticism with a hoarse throat?

That probably didn’t figure in the picture for a long time in her career…or that of such mega stars.   Perhaps, the sad inference is Houston just became a pawn in the hands of the industry and the allure of fame and wealth drew her further and further into a path that would take away from her the very thing that made her world famous:  the voice.

If that sounds disgusting, that’s probably what pop culture is all about now.  I am glad in a way that I am not really a fan of any of the reigning popstars because it would be a terrible feeling for me to see one of my favourite artists end up this way.  On the day of Houston’s death, I watched John McLaughlin, Zakir Hussain and Co relive their glorious association dating to the 70s for a contemporary audience…and enthralling us like nothing had changed at all.   Did they ‘deliver’?  I don’t know and I don’t care.   Were we eating out of their hands that night? Absolutely.