7. In the “crap shoot” environment described above, there are various non-singing ways that a singer might attempt to distinguish herself as worthy of being hired. These range from the benign (e.g., who can most effectively self-promote via social media) to the truly damaging (e.g., the many stories one hears about young singers being pressured into quid pro quo sexual arrangements by those in positions of power), but the one thing that can’t be denied is that the pursuit of an operatic career requires a sort of entrepreneurial drive that is not necessarily correlated to the quality of artistic expression or vocal command the singer possesses. The contrast can be seen when looking at the American operatic landscape compared to that of Europe, where a substantial (though shrinking) number of houses still employ fest ensembles of soloists and through which many successful singers have honed their craft through regular experience. In contrast, the American system is a manifestation of the “gig economy,” where one must constantly be hustling after the next engagement, auditioning anew for each job, and continually promoting oneself. I have felt this phenomenon personally, being someone who functions much better as part of a team and who values stability of employment. As much as I love the act of singing, all the peripheral entrepreneurial activity involved in securing those opportunities feels like a demoralizing “grind” and a poor fit for the kind of life I’d like to lead, engaged in meaningful work with a circle of close collaborators. Many singers succeed in this gig-based system, but many are ill-suited to it, and anytime we add another requirement for success that’s not directly correlated with performance on the central task of singing, we weed more folks out of the talent pool who might have something to contribute.

8. While I’m talking about the “business of singing,” I should also mention the expectations enforced through young artist programs, competitions, casting directors, and artist management—all impatient to see singing artists come to fruition at an early age (in pursuit of “the hot new thing,” because of a conception of a specific accepted “escalator to success” that must be followed, or because of a perceived desire of audiences to see conventionally attractive young people on stage in nearly every role). These expectations exclude those whose paths are longer or more winding (because of voice type, work/family responsibilities, early career choices, later-stage career discernment, health or personal or financial issues, or simply that their artistry took longer than “normal” to come together, etc.) from having career on-ramps available to them at the more “advanced” ages past their late 20s or early 30s. This timeline expectation is particularly damaging to the quality of singing we hear in more dramatic roles, as larger voices often take longer to mature and settle.

Thanks for hanging with me through that. Having written this list, I wish I had better prescriptions for what we could do about at least some of these items. Perhaps some of these can be improved through awareness or mindfulness on the part of aspiring singers and through intentional actions by those in academia or “the business” with the ability to change policies or open up different pathways of opportunity. I know several singers and administrators engaged in avenues of positive change on several of these points. But in the meantime, it might make us all a bit more grateful for those truly remarkable artists out there performing today who have somehow successfully made it through this maze of obstacles to deliver memorable performances. Even as we also fondly reach for recordings of past greats and wonder if they would meet with similar success in today’s environment . . .

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And now I say:

Tchaikovsky’s Pikovaya dama (The Queen of Spades) returned to the Metropolitan Opera this season in the production by Elijah Moshinsky (dir.) and Mark Thompson (des.) that premiered in 1995. It took a long time for this gripping work to establish itself here. The Met first mounted it in 1910, with forces that must have seemed to augur success (Emmy Destinn as Lisa, Leo Slezak as Ghermann, and, as Yeletsky and Tomsky, no less than John Forsell and Adamo Didur,  with Gustav Mahler presiding. That effort endured but a single season. Fifty-five years later, the Met tried again, with an English-language production first headed by Teresa Stratas and Jon Vickers under Thomas Schippers, that managed to bob in and out of the repertory over a stretch of years (it was finally Russified, linguistically speaking, in 1972) without ever quite finding itself or any great favor with local audiences or critics. With the Moshinsky/Thompson production, though (undoubtedly helped by the gradual familiarization with Russian opera in general via recordings and foreign visitors—see below), Pikovaya dama seems to have finally taken hold.