Part 7: Basel

In Basel

When I finally got to Basel, Eugene and I had just enough time to put down my things in his apartment before Cristi arrived on the train for supper. We wound our way through the city until we found the appropriate mix of carbs and wine (read: Italian food) that would satisfy our needs. One very large piece of lasagna and two glasses of wine later, we managed to get her back on the train so she could get back to Lausanne. I can’t describe to you how much it means that old friends will travel such distances to see me. When you spend most of your life on planes and trains and in hotels, friendly faces are an incredibly welcome change of pace. So Eugene and I visited a little and then I went to sleep. Sort of. I have this terrible habit of not going to bed at a reasonable hour when I’m all by myself. It’s like I can’t relax, and I have no gauge on the lateness of the hour without someone else saying, “hey, it’s time to go to bed.” Wednesday morning was super easy-going. Yogurt and coffee and Grey’s Anatomy before the audition. The pianist was delightful – the director of the studio program – and I felt comfortable and ready. It was also my first day without any kind of nasal meds. My nose is dry as all get-out, but at least I can breathe through it. I met the members of the panel – the Intendant, the music director, the Dramaturg, the assistant to the Intendant, all of them very friendly. I offered Fire, they asked for the Queen, and then asked if I wouldn’t mind swapping out with the HUGE German bass waiting outside. He was very friendly – commented on my very good German – and sang things from Rheingold and Parsifal. My lands, what a voice. They then asked me to sing Musetta and talked a little bit about their interest in me, especially as pertains to the studio program. It wasn’t anything I had considered, but perhaps I should. If I’m going to get work in repertoire other than the Queen, that means I need time to work on that other repertoire and a venue in which to sing it. If Basel is willing to take a chance on me, I may very well take them up on it.

Afterward, Eugene and I went wandering around the city, over the bridge, and around the Rhine. We bought swiss chocolate, groceries for supper, and settled in for a lovely meal with Grey’s Anatomy. And then I had a meltdown.

An email arrived from Düsseldorf, saying that my first two arias were great but that they weren’t totally überzeugend by my 2^nd Queen aria and that they would keep me on the list for Einspring opportunities, which basically means I’m a bench soprano. There are far worse things. But when your hormones are raging and you get such an email, it doesn’t take a lot to pull the lever into crazy. I spent the next several hours obsessing about why I don’t win competitions (um, what?) why I didn’t get into any young artist programs at major opera houses (excuse me, hello?) and why big houses don’t seem to want me (okay, that’s just excessive). And after Eugene left, yeah, you know it, I started to google. This is the biggest red flag ever. When you start to look and see what other people say about your singing.

I’ll say this now – I was tickled pink when Nola Defender took up paragraphs talking about my Queen of the Night in New Orleans. It was a great experience, I thought I sang better than I had in a while, and I loved being there.

Am I still singing a B-house Queen of the Night? Possibly.

Am I on my way to singing an ass-kicking A-house Queen of the Night? For sure.

So when I saw the review in Opera News, my heart fell through the floor. The reviewer said my coloratura wasn’t clean enough. And in one fell swoop, there it goes. Thud. So then I googled the reviewer. Who happens to be???

The head of libraries at Tulane.

Here’s a question for ye masses:

When I’m in my right mind (read: not estrogen-charged in a foreign country between auditions) do you think I go singing for someone with a degree in library science to get their opinions on my singing?

Not so much. But when you’re in the shame spiral, there you are. I didn’t sleep well, I procrastinated the whole way to bed, and was just sure I’d wake up feeling like poop.