As you’ve read in Part One of this article, Lisa Vroman is a leading lady who displays the vocal and dramatic gifts of stars from the musical’s golden age. Vroman, who comes from a family of teachers, also relishes her role as a mentor. During a chat from her home in Pasadena, Calif., Vroman says that while she was doing Broadway’s The Phantom of the Opera (2003), students routinely waited at the stage door to ask her questions. Many leading ladies would have tossed off a reply and hightailed it to Sardi’s, but Vroman often went for coffee with those aspiring performers. She loves to “give back” by sharing what she’s learned during a nonstop career that features an impressive mix of musicals and classical concerts.
The soprano fondly recalls her youth in Adams, N.Y., when she listened to original cast albums and longed to succeed Julie Andrews as Broadway’s reigning diva. Blessed with a rich middle register (think Mary Martin) and glittering high notes (à la Barbara Cook), Vroman performed in high school musicals, an experience that inspired her to study voice at the Crane School of Music (SUNY Potsdam).
At college she formed a lifelong friendship with fellow soprano Renée Fleming, and as a graduate student at Carnegie Mellon she heard great things about another future friend and colleague, Brent Barrett. She didn’t meet the tenor, however, until she’d left Carnegie with her master’s degree in 1981.
“Brent is one of my favorite people in the world to sing with,” she says, “because he’s so connected to the music and lyrics.”
The same might be said about Vroman, who seeks the emotional truth in each song without sacrificing tonal beauty. Though intensely serious about singing, she’s warm, witty, and down to earth—the ideal soprano to interview about crossover. Vroman spoke to CS after finishing some recent concerts with the Boston Pops. This month the soprano heads to New York where she’ll work on a new musical project she can’t yet announce.
What’s your vocal category?
I’m a lyric soprano. Of course, it seems that every five to seven years a voice matures and changes, so I think my sound has gotten richer and a lot fuller. I studied as a coloratura, but as the years went by and my voice got bigger I became less interested in “living” up there.
Yet, in Florida, I recently did a Mozart concert aria, which has a cadenza that after eight minutes of singing took me up to an E-flat. It’s an unusual piece—and Mozart had written all the ornamentation himself—so it was exciting.
Can you describe your vocal training?
My mom was my junior and senior high school choral teacher, so needless to say I had quite a wonderful musical education, not to mention family support system!
Actually, I didn’t sing much in college. I was a voice major, but I started out playing the flute and got an education degree. I wasn’t really planning to perform. Richard Griffith, my singing teacher, allowed me to grow without a lot of pressure, and I needed that. At 18, I didn’t have any savvy about what was going on in the world, and I couldn’t have taken the pressure of a conservatory. Richard Griffith taught me, among other things, how to breathe.
While at Crane, I sang in two or three choral groups each semester. They were led by Brock McElheran and included amazing guest conductors for the festivals. Senior year I sang with my stepfather, Calvin Gage, who had sung in the Robert Shaw Chorale in the ‘40s and ‘50s, and had just become a faculty member.
I was a late admission to Carnegie Mellon. I auditioned for the voice department in 1979 with “Sempre Libera,” which was a joke. I had a small, flexible, very high soprano voice, but I had great pitch. I got in and Ralph Zitterbart, a coach, was instrumental in helping me. So was Beatrice Krebs, who sang with Beverly Sills in the recording of “Baby Doe” and was chosen by Richard Rodgers to be the Mother Abbess in the first national tour of The Sound of Music. If it weren’t for Ralph and Bea I would never have finished my master’s. Bea also told me my life would swing back and forth between the classical world and the theater, and would sometimes be difficult.
At CM, I knew I was going to be studying classical music, but I didn’t feel I would be an opera singer—I found the pressure of being [only] as good as your last high note unbearable. It boils down to what you think of yourself as an artist. My self-esteem wasn’t where it should’ve been to handle that field. I felt intimidated by getting up in voice class and being judged.
How did you learn to act with your voice?
I was lucky to do summer stock early on. I did roles that required me to connect emotionally. Then, fresh out of grad school, I studied with Jack Allison (“Acting for Singers”) in New York, and I got up and sang a musical theatre piece, probably “Yes, My Heart” from Carnival. And Jack Allison said, “Wow! Your voice is amazing. (Pause) Big deal! I don’t care about anything you just sang to me.” I said, “Good thing I’m in your class, huh?” His face got all red because he was laughing, which was typical for our relationship, but it was true—I was singing my song like an automaton, doing what I thought was right, and he didn’t buy it.
He really required us to use everything we had vocally to move him emotionally. With Jack there was no gray area. He’d say, “That sucked,” and boy, I think I needed that so much. He just sort of shocked me into singing better. Later on I did a regional production of Camelot with Jack as my director. I played Guenevere. My Lancelot was Davis Gaines, and ever since Davis has been an important comrade because we suit each other so well musically. We love singing together!
Given what you know about both fields, where could a young soprano best use her gifts today?
Probably more in the classical world. I hate to say that, but Broadway is turning into an entertainment-based world. There are people who are writing good material, but not so much for classical sopranos. Ten years ago when I’d audition—if people didn’t know me—they’d say, “You’re too classical.” I myself would think, “No, this is the style [of the music].” Today, if you’re a pop singer you can do well. Watch American Idol and see how people sound. That’s the direction in which the Broadway musical is moving.
Unfortunately, many singers going into Broadway are not trained, and I have actually encountered people in musical theatre who bring their tape recorders to rehearsals because they can’t read music! I don’t think I’ve ever taped a rehearsal—but I am quite sure I got my first few jobs because I could read the score.
Andrew Lloyd Webber was one person who was astounded. I did Aspects of Love for him, and he wanted me to cover one part and asked me if I could “read” another. I looked at the music and was able to read it, and I made my debut. That was ‘91 or ‘92. It was fun. Up until then I’d done mostly regional work. Doing “Aspects” led to “Phantom” because of the casting people.
Vinny Liff, who recently passed away, was with Johnson-Liff and Associates, and he was a mentor who’d cast me in “Les Miz” which led to “Aspects.” Losing him was a great blow to me and many other performers.
Christine in “Phantom” was your breakthrough role. How did it change your life?
First, I want to tell you a story that should encourage young singers. When Vinny Liff brought me in for “Phantom” he said, “You’re never going to get Christine—ever.” Maybe he thought I wasn’t the right look or I was too old, but he felt they’d want me to be Madame Giry [in the first tour of Phantom]. I’d sung Fantine in “Les Miz,” and I’d done a lot of belting in “Aspects,” so I said, “Vinny, call me crazy! But Christine is who I am.” But he said I wasn’t the right type.
I thought “OK,” but I walked into the audition and said to the conductor, Kristin Blodgette, “Let me just sing a minute and a half of who I am,” and I sang some of “And This Is My Beloved,” which is very beautiful and romantic. Kristin started hitting Vinny on the head, saying, “What were you thinking?” She asked if I could sing Christine’s music and I said I happened to have it—and I got the role! But had there not been another role to audition for, I never would’ve gotten in the door. So that was a lucky break, and I guess I was the right type after all. [Laughs.]
This was ‘92, and I did Christine for six months on the tour—and then they hired me for San Francisco, where I stayed for five years, and oh man, I just loved it there. Nobody puts a gun to your head and tells you to make choices. I knew that career-wise I should’ve gone back to New York and jumped back into the wave pool there, but I loved the role, and New York didn’t open up. I didn’t want to be unemployed, so I stuck to it, and what I gained by staying there—and what I learned from doing something every day long-term—was priceless.
You met an important champion during the San Francisco “Phantom.”
Yes, I became good friends with Michael Tilson Thomas. He invited me to his house and said, “What do you want to do?” He was excited about my performance and my voice, and said, “I can hear you doing so many things.” We started working together and have been doing concerts for the past 10 years. Then I went back to New York when San Francisco was all over, and did the Broadway version of “Phantom” with Howard McGillin. He and I got along beautifully and he was an amazingly soulful person on stage. In fact, I [worked with] many wonderful Phantoms throughout the eight years, and it’s precious to keep many as lifelong friends.
How much do you focus on technique in a long-running show?
You don’t feel the same every day. There are days when your sound is not free and easy—or when one aspect of your voice is not as warmed up as others. When it came to “Phantom,” I loved the people, the piece, and the period. Even if I felt crappy all day—and there were days like that—the minute the music started, it became my place of safety, and five minutes into the show, I began singing myself out of my bad place. That’s a choice, a trick I use for keeping the show fresh.
I also feel a huge responsibility to the audience and to my fellow comrades each time I sing. You have to try to respect those you share the stage with. I also loved the security of it, the fact that I could save money; I could stay in one beautiful town and have a job for the next year.
This is why people stay in shows for years and years. They want to put their kids through college; they want to buy a home, which I did during “Phantom.”
How do you keep up your stamina during a long run?
My friend Renée Fleming would always say, “She could teach McDonald’s about quality control! I don’t know how she does it!” Well, it’s an athlete’s regimen. My first rule is, “Don’t talk a lot,” but I’m not a good example. [Laughs.] Your high notes are like a tennis player’s serve: you have to practice. You have to eat well but you can’t eat late. You can’t drink; you can’t be in smoky environments. You have to exercise because your body has to support you. I ride a bike, and I swim.
My beautiful dog, Romeo, was with me the whole time I was on Broadway. He kept me out walking—and sometimes hiking—daily. That’s a great workout.
It’s the technical issues of singing every day that I find most difficult. Broadway singers constantly deal with some level of vocal fatigue. How happy I am that I finished my graduate degree!
Does the use of mics change your performance?
They shouldn’t change my performance, but when I had mics I realized I didn’t have to sing as fully as possible. I tried to sing well but I cut back on volume and power. When they have digital sound, you cannot compete with that. You can’t fight it. You have to let “that” do
its work.
Do you use a different technique for musicals versus concerts or opera?
I think it’s a language and style issue rather than a technical one, so I don’t think I use a different technique. I’m not playing with my vibrato when I’m singing musical theatre. In a jazz piece, you might do that. That style may be more manipulated.
Good singing is good singing, I don’t understand just teaching “musical theatre technique.” I have worked with students who had four years of college, couldn’t access their head voice at all, and were having many problems as they matured. What a waste!
What advice would you give to classical sopranos who want to “crossover” to musicals?
Take some acting lessons. Telling emotional truth is what getting up and singing is about. It’s not about “here’s my beautiful voice.” It’s about “here’s this beautiful music. Here’s this beautiful story. Here’s the emotion of a person I’m embodying as I sing.” It seems to me the music falls into place when your emotion is there. Your breath is calmer; you’re telling a story rather than worrying whether that high note will be there.
I treat musical theatre the way I’d approach a classical art song. I want to give as much power as I can to the words and the music. I never want to sacrifice the music. Language is a huge issue, because singing in English is singing in English. Learn the right diction.
Aspiring crossover artists should also listen to original cast albums from the ‘60s and earlier. If kids were young when “Les Miz” came out, that’s what they think of as “show music.” Then they want to come in and sing Wicked, but they’re not ready.
How do you feel about the way your career has developed?
I feel lucky that I found Christine in “Phantom,” a role that I did for so long and which I could count on. Through “Phantom” I also gained a great professional reputation that I’m proud of. In this business there are so many people with attitudes or egos who don’t have the goods to back them up. I think you need to be a solid professional every time you perform, because there are people waiting to do your role.
Another person I want to talk about is Steven Blier. He has been unbelievable for me. He came to see me in The Most Happy Fella at City Opera in 2005, and ever since, we’ve had many conversations. I just sang two concerts for him with the New York Festival of Song. The music was beautiful—and when he sits down to play, he offers a spontaneous improvisational moment that takes you to an eclectic crossover place. It’s been a thrill to work with him.
Hal Prince, the director of “Phantom,” was and still is important to me. Also, my years in “Phantom” paved my way to having a wonderful concert career, through which I have been able to perform all kinds of music and styles—and to begin developing wonderful relationships with many symphonies and conductors. One such maestro is Keith Lockhart, whom I met back at Carnegie. We have a ball each time I work with Keith and the Boston Pops. It’s an amazing orchestra.
Do you have any long-term goals for the future?
I’m so enthusiastic about teaching. I’d like to be a music educator, like my mother and sister, and I would love to go back and get another master’s, in musical theatre history. I’d like to go back and go over pedagogy. By the way, I love the educational slant of Classical Singer. A lot of people are talking to me about becoming crossover singers, and this gray area is something that should be explored.
Any final thoughts for our readers?
Whether it’s Broadway or classical, you have to love the music you’re singing and believe you can deliver it. I know I said this earlier, but the link to delivering the text without sacrificing your instrument is to tell the story with emotion. Then you’re not judging; you’re interpreting.
In conclusion, keep learning to sing well. Be the best musician you can be—and be kind to your soundman!
For more information, visit www.LisaVroman.com.
