Toby the Tenor

Can I squeeze out one more post about auditions? I’ve got the material but I don’t want you to think I’m fixated on the audition process. Happily, the rigmarole of stepping up to the plate and giving 100% in two songs is behind me but the intensity of those days remains etched on my memory.

As I wrote in the previous post about preparing for an audition, I sometimes sit on panels these days. I very much enjoy the process and am inspired to hear and see how well trained and prepared young singers tend to be these days. While I am a relative newcomer to panels, many of the invigilators I sit with have been listening to young singers for years, some for decades. It’s the bread and butter for a casting director of an opera company.

Among other things, panellists who are casting directors are on the look out for the “next big thing”. If they can catch that budding star early, they can build a working relationship from the beginning of the singer’s career. A working relationship puts the casting director in a position where they can influence a young singer, suggesting a ladder of roles that enable the singer to mature while developing their technique and expanding their repertoire.

Stars are few and far between – right now there are about five supernova stars in the opera world. With only so many days in the year, a casting director will build a strong relationship with them to ensure they return to their opera house year after year.

There are about ten full time opera houses in the world that can afford to pay top dollar for the biggest stars. They vie for the time of the top stars who are paid by the performance. Because the stars are not remunerated for rehearsing, they prefer to rehearse less and perform more.

For an opera company to maintain its place in the golden circle of the top theatres, it has to include most, if not all, of the top stars in its casting for each season. That is a very big bill to foot and a strong relationship can help to persuade the star to return regularly and not make inordinate demands on the theatre’s coffers.

After that, panels are made up of agents, teachers and singers, all with a proven track record. One doesn’t have to sit on a panel for long before patterns in the routine appear. In a day, one can hear up to thirty auditions, of which twenty-five will be average to good singers, two will be outstanding and the rest will be below par. There are national characteristics in the way singers are schooled. Germans tend to give one kind of presentation, Spanish another, French another and so on – I’m confident I will write about different schools of singing at some point.

Many candidates present a bel canto aria to begin, followed by something tender and then end with a show-stopper. Occasionally, a singer will buck the trend and programme music they think plays to their strengths – in my view, a good call.

I have devised a points system so I can make notes and establish a metric from the outset of each day of auditions. As each candidate sings, I award a maximum of 25 points – 5 for vocal technique, 5 for artistry, 5 for text, 5 for style (meaning their attention to the historical style of each piece) and 5 for what I call “magic”. Magic is when, for whatever reason, I put my pen down because I simply want to hear someone sing. They can have a low score in all four of the first categories and still possess magic. It can stem from their charisma, character, charm – all the words beginning with ch-.

On one occasion, a co-panellist asked me “What’s your opinion on the Korean problem?” I was shocked because I know that person to be kind and intelligent. I assumed they were being ironic and replied “I think it’s a very nice problem to have.” Their implication was that the market is awash with excellent young singers from South Korea who could clean up at most competitions if they were judged on technical ability alone.

On another occasion, it was apparent that one of the three provided pianists was a handicap for any singer with whom they were paired. I raised this observation at the end of the first day of the selection process. The chairman of the panel asked me to reveal which of the pianists I thought was inadequate. To me it was obvious but I didn’t want to become embroiled in internal politics. Detecting agreement from others in the room, I said “I’d prefer not to name them. As there are two remaining rounds of the competition, can we ensure that no singer has to sing with the same pianist twice?” I considered this a fair and neat way to circumvent any awkward scenario. My idea was implemented, I’m happy to record.

Once, a casting director confided in me that if anyone presents the Jewel Song from Gounod’s Faust, they automatically put a strike through the name of the soprano. The Jewel Song happens to be a good audition piece and for this reason appears in many sopranos’ auditions. I understand that casting directors hear singers day in, day out and that familiarity breads contempt BUT to disqualify a singer at the beginning of their career because they chose a song you don’t like, to my mind, is beneath contempt. If it’s so bad, ask them not to bring the Jewel Song when the audition is scheduled.

I like it when a singer comes with a story to tell, when they use the space and treat the piano as a prop. In my view, and within the bounds of taste, if a singer wants to make an impression, they might consider everything as an opportunity to be maximised. I also like it when a singer has the confidence and class to stand there and deliver good, uncomplicated, accurate singing.

If the audition programme has high points, make sure you can hit them. If you decide to sing “Nessun dorma” in an audition, make sure you have a high B♮ you can rely on.

I once heard a good Spanish baritone sing “Eri tu” from Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera. There aren’t many good Verdi baritones around. I thought he had real potential and he had the right devilish look about him. It was all good except he didn’t hit the big note that all the aficionados wait for. I wanted to put him through to the next round but, for the other panellists, not hitting the big note was a red line.

I write all this because this is the process by which singers make it to the stage, or not. They often travel long distances, buying tickets they can ill-afford, staying in the cheapest accommodation they can find, prioritising the slender chance of making an impression over a social life. They have achieved heroic deeds, even before they make it to the opera stage. And for very little, if any, return.