The changing landscape of classical singing is well viewed in a recent New York Times article about how the Metropolitan Opera is handling sluggish ticket sales and what it means for the company and its content. YouTube (and memories!) help in recalling where crossover has been-but what about where it’s going? And where are artists easily identifiable as crossover artists heading? Who can we learn from? Who might we emulate and be inspired by? Or, we can be, if that’s where we want to be. We’re a long way from simply tagging a showtune or Broadway set to the end of a recital of classics. Flash forward 20 years-I find myself texting the Spotify link of “Barcelona”-the epic Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballé duet-to a Freddie Mercury obsessed BFA Musical Theater student looking for new rep. In high school, it was Sarah Brightman-Christine from my Phantom of the Opera singing “Con te partirò” (“Time to Say Goodbye”) with Andrea Bocelli.Ĭollege found me obsessed with Dawn Upshaw Sings Rodgers & Hart and I Wish It So-two of the soprano’s CDs that I listened to on loop to and from my church gig in rural Illinois. In the early 90s-before I was aware of crossover as a concept, I experienced it by watching “The Three Tenors” on PBS, singing showtunes (with some very entertaining diction) in their Broadway set near the end of the concert. What can we do with crossover? And these days, what is crossover? The definition is pretty bendy. When I start with “I could,” the story, opportunity, and what I can do is still ahead of me. When I begin an artistic statement with “I should,” it’s highly likely that I’m already acting as if I’m late-or have missed an opportunity altogether. But here, let’s look at the power of could when we consider crossover repertoire and related experiences. And it can all begin with one little should.ĭon’t get me wrong: if the thought “I should brush my teeth tonight” flashes through your brain, you should do that. This does nothing for me, let alone my students. If I’m not careful, this can turn into negative self-talk, and spiral into thoughts that I’m not doing enough, learning enough, staying current, blah, blah, blah. I’ll overhear a teacher working with a student on a piece I’ve forgotten or a song from a new musical and think, “I should assign this to so-and-so” or “I should learn this music” or “I should start singing Purcell again” or “I should do a lecture recital.” Just what exactly are we crossing over these days?Ĭould versus should: One of my favorite things to say to voice students and friends is “Don’t should on yourself.” And I need to regularly remind myself of the same.It’s like sonic double exposure, like when you developed your pack of 24 pictures and discovered two pictures in one-remember doing that? Experiencing this in the hallway is how I’m frequently reminded of-or introduced to-new repertoire. One may be singing a Rossini cabaletta over the sound of another practicing a 32-bar cut of “Dead Mom” from Beetlejuice. Much like a studio building at a university or conservatory, you walk in to hear multiple singers through the walls. At any given time, you’ll find Broadway and classical voice teachers and performers rehearsing, preparing and chatting. It’s a 12-story apartment building, and on the second floor are two large apartments that have been converted into several welcoming voice studios with pianos.įormerly known as Paul Gavert Studio, The Voice Studio is owned by Broadway luminary, producer, and voice teacher Kurt Peterson. But do picture it: the second floor of a tall pre-war building called The Wyoming. To give you a better idea, I’m going to use my “Golden Girls” Sophia voice: “Picture it, New York City, 2023.” Ok, I’ll stop. Two blocks down, at The Voice Studio where I teach my private students, crossover is happening constantly. And it is heartening to walk by a long line of people snaking into the building before a performance. They’re changed regularly to reflect the upcoming concerts and recitals, and I feel energized knowing that so much music is going on in there, in multiple halls. Most days after teaching, I make it a point to walk up 7th Avenue, past the west side of the iconic hall, to look at the poster boxes. When I’m not at the university, I teach at my private studio in Midtown Manhattan at West 55th Street and 7th Avenue-just two short blocks down from a very famous intersection of classical, musical theater, and world music: Carnegie Hall at 57th & 7th.
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