This is your first time singing with the Atlanta Opera and your first time singing Aida. Does it feel like a homecoming?
Yes it does. And I am glad to be singing Aida here in Atlanta with William Fred Scott. Fred is a very talented man. He knows voices as well as music, so he allows you to get into the music the way you are going to do it, but correctly. He helps you, he follows you. I think he is an excellent conductor. And I am glad that I am home, because I don’t feel I have to prove anything here in Atlanta. People know me, so I don’t have that extra layer of pressure on me, on top of a new role.
You are from Atlanta. I never thought of this city as a budding opera center. How did you get interested in this art form?
Precisely. My mother was a church singer, but her voice was incredibly operatic. Hers was not the traditional gospel sound, so this [opera] is what I grew up with. When I got to high school, my chorus teacher, Mrs. Mildred Fawcett, heard me singing and decided that she was going to teach me classically. I thought this was very neat, because it was not the norm: It was not gospel, it wasn’t R&B. I went to college and majored in Vocal Performance, and continued studying classical singing.
And it’s a very difficult world professionally, from what I understand.
It is hard, especially because you have to deal with both Europe and America. There are a lot of different types of people to interact with. And being in this business, period—whether you are an actor, singer, dancer, or in musical theater—it’s just tough, because everyone is so competitive. Everybody wants to be a superstar! A lot of backstabbing goes on from a lot of different sources. It’s hard to trust a lot of people in this business, and I think that may be why some artists become so wacky, since they have had their trust stomped on so many times.
As a student, did you have any artists that you were looking up to?
I did not start really getting into opera until I got to college. In high school, I just listened to what my teacher told me to listen to, and she trained me to sing the way I was supposed to sing. In many ways I think that was good, because she forced me to develop my own voice, as opposed to listening to and mimicking somebody. Whenever I turned on PBS, I would hear someone in concert and think: “Wow, I want to be like that.”
A lot of the singers that I looked up to were incredibly talented, stylish, yet always showed their human side. Those were the singers that I was attracted to, and I was very interested in how they would phrase. A singer like Judy Garland, whose voice was so incredibly beautiful, I wanted my voice to have that special quality. And of course Leontyne Price, because she looked like me, and she sounded like me. So of course, that gave me something to aspire to. I also went to see Jessye Norman while I was in college. When she walked onstage, it was like the world stopped! I wanted to have that kind of effect. I wanted that complete package: interpretation, musicality, style.
What would you say your vocal category is?
Well, people have told me that I am a spinto, but I believe that I am a full lyric soprano, moving into dramatic lyric. I still have a lyric line. The spinto sound is pointier and edgier: Birgit Nilsson territory. I do think that way at the top I may have that quality: those top C’s over the chorus in the Verdi Requiem. But overall I think I’m a lyric soprano. Furthermore if I don’t keep thinking in that line of full lyric, I think I would ruin my train of thought when approaching music.
To add to this topic, do you feel it’s important to keep vocal categories?
Some singers say “don’t classify me.” Others feel protected by the vocal categorization.
Four years ago people were asking me if I sang Aida, and I said no, that I would sing it in four or five years, tops. I have to protect myself because I want to sing for a long time. If I wanted to sing for a short time, I would have belted out Aida four years ago. I choose roles that I know I can get through, like the Don Carlos in French, because it’s more lyric than the Don Carlos in Italian, which is a much heavier score. This is not just a diction issue. The French score is more lyrical than the Italian translation. I shall tackle Don Carlos in Italian in a couple of years, because it does call for more thrust than I have right now.
You made a serious splash in the operatic world when you took over the Bellini role of Imogene in In Pirata for the Caramoor Festival in 2000. You had been performing the Verdi repertoire. How were you approached to sing this Bellini role?
Well, I auditioned for Crutchfield the year previous, and we were looking for something for me to do along the early Verdi line. And when the original artist withdrew, he asked if I would be available and willing to sing the Bellini, and I said “of course.” And that’s how that role took place.
Artists state that the Bel Canto repertoire is good for their voice, as opposed to Verdi. What is your take on that?
Mozart and Bellini fall unto that category of making sure that your technique is solid. I feel that if this is the case, you can get through a Bellini role or a Mozart role, because the singer is so exposed in these. In order for everything to go hand in hand, your placement is right, and you have to have really good pitch. With Verdi it’s a different kind of beast. You need very good pitch but also, you need to have thrust. It’s more, say, “gunshots.” You have to have the ability to move the voice and get it out there. With Bellini you also have to be able to move the voice, but it’s a different kind of manner, it’s more of a sort of finesse. Early Verdi has a lot of Bel Canto nuances, like I Due Foscari and Trovatore.
Verdi will write very specific directions as to what to do and what not to do. When compared to Bellini, as long as you are within the style, you can use personalized ornaments. Is there more freedom of expression in Bel Canto?
Yes. Verdi is very specific. He tells the performer exactly what the dynamics are, while in Bellini, you may get a piano marking once in a while. So yes, you have more freedom in Bellini to put a more personal touch into the performance. In my opinion, Bellini puts them there for a reason, so it’s my job to figure out what the reason for that run is. I personally do not like ornamentations for Bellini. For Handel yes, but for Bellini no, because, well, I don’t like singing runs [laughs]. I mean, fine, I can move my voice, but I need to find the dramatic reason for runs. If I see them on paper I will sing them, and that’s all. They tire me, and there are a lot of runs in Bellini, believe me!
Lets talk about Aida. The character has these moments of huge inner conflict. Do you think that her main conflict is the fact that she is in love with the enemy, or because she has to rescue her country?
That’s a good question, because I must say that I banged my head against the wall for about two years on Aida. I talked to a lot of people about her, coached with a couple of people that sang the role. And now that I am in it, I tried to get a perspective on her.
I think it’s harder for her because its her duty to protect her country. She loves her country and her people. She feels so connected to them that she can call them family, as opposed to calling them her noble countrymen. This makes me believe that she is a hands-on kind of princess. But the conflict starts because she tripped up and fell in love with this man, who happens to be in the army of the people that are responsible for killing her brothers, her mother and sisters. I think that is the biggest struggle for her. And I asked myself, in the third act: “Well, why wouldn’t you want to help your father? Your father reminded you of how the Egyptian army came in and slaughtered your people.” And she says: “No, I won’t do this! I won’t betray Radames!”
I think that is the biggest struggle for her. And that whole aria in the first act, “Ritorna Vincitor,” it’s going from one extreme to the next, ending with: “God, please help me do this!”
As if she’d rather just leave this earth…
Right! She even says it in the first aria—she’d rather just go die than have to go through this torture. She is pulled both ways. So when she gets to the duet with Radames in the third act, she says “I’ve got it! Let’s just go! We can go back to my country, or near my country!” And she convinces him to just go with her. But her father is like a monkey on her back, saying: “Get the information, get the information…”
Radames keeps saying “I’m going to fix this” and she keeps saying “No, no! You can’t fix this. The Pharaoh has said that you are going to marry Amneris, how are you going to fix this? Let’s just leave, now. No one will ever know!” She is not thinking about the plot, or her father, or anything—just him and me, away from this place. And we almost get out, until my father comes out and makes his announcement.
And if only he had been quiet for five more minutes…
Right! “Just let us leave, Dad!” But I think Amonasro does want them to be together. Even at the end of that scene he tells them to go and flee and he will take care of the soldiers. I think he feels that she really does love Radames. He even says in the duet between himself and Aida: “You can take him too, that guy you love, but find out the information so we can take over.” But Radames is a man of honor more than anything, and he turns himself in.
Do you find the duet between Amneris and Aida musically challenging?
For me, in order to get into a role I really need to know what I am singing. I don’t think about it being hard musically, because I can sing it. It’s about the intention and the acting behind it. That duet was difficult for me because I had to decide how I felt about Amneris. Was she a good friend of mine—or was she my boss, and I just happened to be her favorite, but it’s still business?
Once I made that decision, I had to make others: What frame of mind am I in when the duet begins? Do I know that she knows about Radames and me already? Or am I oblivious until she starts prying at me? So that duet is hard because it does switch modes all the time. I’m the humble servant at first, and she is saying all of these nice things to me. Then she tells me about Radames and that he has died, because she is trying to push my buttons. Then she reveals her suspicions and I recoil back, trying to hide it. There are a lot of these switching moods, and that was difficult. In the end I went with the concept that she is my boss, and even though she calls me sister, I still don’t trust her.
What do you think are the most dangerous technical moments in the role for you?
It used to be the high “C” in “O patria mia” but it’s not that anymore. You’ve got to make it impressive, and I just have it. It’s got to be a very special moment … That’s why the audience pay their money, for that moment. I do have the high “C,” and you have to think about which high “C” you want to sing there. When I didn’t have that figured out, it bothered the bejezus out of me.
Where I have to really come down is the very end of the duet between myself and Radames. It starts on the passagio and it goes up and stays in that stratosphere. And I just have to think about that but not think too much, because that can also spell trouble. So I dive into the words and pictures, and don’t worry too much on the technique.
Other singers are bothered by the big ensemble in the triumphal scene.
[With a dismissive laugh] Naw! I kind of coast through that sucker and call it a day. I mean, you sing what you are supposed to sing and you coast the rest of the way. That’s how you get through the concertato, because that ensemble is big, and it’s a lot of singing before the third act, and you cannot wear yourself out. When those first sopranos in the chorus are screaming the high C’s out at the end of the Triumphal scene, then you just let them and you coast with them. The audience is not going to hear you anyway, so why push it? And when I’m in my middle voice I don’t push it. I just coast through it. The only time I have to sing is when my father comes in, I repeat his beautiful little aria, and then there is that little run. There really is no full-out singing, except for the lines that go above the chorus, but you can just soar through that.
On a different subject, dealing with race: As an African-American singer, do you fear that you may be typecast as the Aidas and the Carmens?
This is something I have thought of, and it’s all about how you approach it. They will call me up and say: “We want Ms. Thomas for Aida.” Sure, you can have Ms. Thomas for Aida, but she will also sing for you Don Carlos, or Ballo in Maschera. So you do a contract—and that is how I am going to get around singing only Aidas. I feel like I may get pigeonholed doing Aidas. Now, Aida is not a bad role to be pigeon-holed in, but I would like to do the Verdi Requiem for as long as I can; and I would like to do Norma. I would like to do Lucrezia Borgia.
Shirley Verrett recently singled you out, along with Denyce Graves, as being one of the two African-American singers that she sees having the voice, the style and the technique. But she also points out that other than the both of you, there aren’t any other African-American singers that fall into this category. Do you see more black women or black men in opera coming up?
I do see a lot more African-American men than women in opera. There are a few coming up that I hear of, but I run more into the men than anything else. Eric Owens and I have done several gigs together. Greg Baker is always on the scene, and Mark Rucker is always working. On the women side we have Angela Brown, who is a very fine singer. But again, I am still new in the business. I do see a lot of black singers out there, but it is not like those days when everywhere you turned you saw somebody—more women, of course. Now I see a lot of men, like Chester Patton, Mark Dawes.
Do you believe that there is a double standard, especially with the men. Are we going to see more black men singing with white women in roles that imply sexual relationships?
I don’t know if you will see that in the really big houses. In Philadelphia, Greg Baker just finished his first Macbeth there, and the female lead was Caucasian. Maybe it will come along eventually, but I don’t see many black tenors out there. In Europe you see that sort of thing happening more.
