Facebook has become the virtual teacher’s lounge of the 21st century. Inspired by a post from Fort Worth Opera’s Managing Director and Artistic Administrator Keith Wolfe about the arrogance and entitlement of certain young artists, I asked for input from other administrators, teachers, and singers about their experiences with entitlement, particularly in the younger crowd.
Every generation likes to complain about those that come after; it’s often a big joke. “Kids today have it so easy. I walked to school, uphill, in the snow—both ways!” But the complaints I hear from my colleagues who run Young Artist Programs, opera companies, private studios, and university programs about the entitlement, laziness, or plain-old bad judgment displayed by many young singers are no laughing matter. Rudeness, lack of business acumen or, in some cases, just relying on bad advice can cost a young singer important opportunities. It can get them blacklisted. It’s behavior that the industry can’t afford.
I’ve experienced it myself, both as a university adjunct voice instructor dealing with students who thought they could skip six weeks of class, or even their jury, and somehow still pass (begging me to come up with makeup assignments or hold a special jury just for them when they found out passing was no longer an option)—and with people I’ve never heard of writing me out of the blue (privately, not under the auspices of this column or my consulting business) for free advice. Most of these folks are polite and respectful, letting me know where they heard of me and how appreciative they are of any time and advice I can spare, and they follow up with a thank-you.
Plenty of requests also appear, however, with no salutation or introduction of any kind, asking for an involved, time-consuming answer to a nonspecific question (meaning the writer has not done her homework before asking). I answer all requests for advice (though not always with what they want to hear) and rarely receive a thank-you from the lazy ones. It makes me cranky, and I’m not the only one. The world is not your Wikipedia, young singers! You are not entitled to free, easy, effortless (on your part) answers to all your questions! There is a right and wrong way to ask! And there is a right and wrong way to approach people from whom you are asking favors or to make a business connection. There is a right and wrong way to conduct your business.
Keith Wolfe recently shared a story about a young singer who had not received an audition and e-mailed immediately demanding an explanation. The singer cited his GPA, alma mater, and his “very promising voice.” “Is there any specific reason as to why I was not granted an audition? Please explain—I look forward to hearing from you,” this singer wrote.
Wolfe says he respects singers who politely request feedback on their applications, even though he does not offer such critiques, but none of those singers ever demanded to know why they weren’t accepted. “I was just blown away,” he said. “I never received anything like this in 10 plus years of coordinating auditions.”
Another singer asked Wolfe to accept her application a week after the deadline, on the grounds that she had “misread YAP Tracker” and forgot to set up a reminder. When Wolfe declined, stating that all the slots had been filled, she responded that it was too bad, as she was the perfect person to sing a specific principal role in one of the season’s operas. “That’s ballsy enough,” Wolfe said, “but, again, a quick look at our website would tell you the role was already cast. You don’t think we haven’t cast that role in an opera that is happening in about eight months?” Incidentally, Wolfe says that some years ago, he had a very similar experience with a managed singer, who certainly should have known better!
Wolfe acknowledges, however, that these “singers behaving badly” are generally in the minority. “The overwhelming majority of singers I have interactions with are great to work with,” he added, “and most who wrote back disappointed about not getting an audition were very professional—either asking to be on a waitlist for cancellations or, a few, asking for feedback on the process.”
It may be that there are some singers reading this who genuinely don’t understand what’s wrong with the exchanges described above. It is, to a certain degree, understandable. Few universities or conservatories offer much in the way of current business training specifically for singers, and until they get out in the world and really begin to experience it for themselves, many young singers don’t really have much perspective on how to build a career or, indeed, how the industry works. They often lack basic business skills, such as how to write an effective résumé or bio for singing work or even how to write a business letter or e-mail. Furthermore, they aren’t sure where to turn for advice and, so, sometimes end up grasping at straws.
Baritone Steven Slupe, a young colleague of mine, with whom I recently sang a Gianni Schicchi, offered insight gleaned from his undergraduate studies. Many of his peers, he said, seem to have an expectation of having singing gigs waiting for them when they graduate. They know on an intellectual level that life as a musician will be hard, but they don’t really think about what that might mean.
“You might call this a sort of ‘blind idealism,’” Slupe says, “and it is arguably necessary to continue being productive and making the most out of your years of study. . . . Perfecting your vocal technique and becoming the best musician you possibly can is hard enough without a crushing pessimism telling you that even if you jump through all the hoops and meet all of the standards set for you by your school, it may not be enough once you get out into the real world.
“However, if my own few years are any indication, sooner or later every singer has to experience the sometimes devastating realization of just how hard this career is,” he continues. “We are sold on the notion that effort equals reward; if we just work harder, the jobs will come. This is where so many singers burn out, because they grossly underestimate the amount of effort it really takes and overestimate how much reward (financial or otherwise) you really get out of the process—and when they’re faced with that reality, they are repulsed by how immensely out of proportion that effort-to-reward ratio seems.”
A certain young soprano colleague, who prefers to remain anonymous, offers a different perspective. “Some people just need to learn the hard way. Honestly, though, I think teachers and mentors who overemphasize the difficulty of the business end up discouraging the people who actually hear them more than they deter the ones who need the reality dose. The ones who don’t hear will expect to sing at the Met upon graduating no matter what you tell them; in their minds, they are always the exception.”
The anonymous soprano is speaking from personal experience. A certain YAP coach whom she tried very hard to please responded with discouraging and, she felt, inappropriate criticism. “I was already grappling with perfectionism, insecurity, and inexperience. I did not need the kind of criticism that made me question all of my talent, artistic choices, and technical decisions. It has taken me two years to learn that to have any shot at all, I can’t dwell on the odds and have to instead focus on what could happen if I keep working really hard.
“I sometimes think the coach who discouraged me felt it was his duty to make sure the young one in the program knew what she was getting into,” she continues, “but if he had just asked me, he would have known that I began as an education major, interviewed singers and professors to learn what it would really take to try performance, cautiously weighed all my feedback, and honestly knew it was going to be the hardest thing ever. I think a mentor has to ask why it is he or she feels the singer needs a reality check. Is it because the singer shows promise and you really care about their future? Do you want them to know they’ll need a thick skin so they won’t give up? Or is it because it will feel good to knock them down a peg?”
The same young woman also asserted that most of the entitled singers she knew in school didn’t make it past their first year of rejections. “They couldn’t handle it and weren’t expecting it.” Clearly, however, some singers with unrealistic expectations do survive—and apply to programs like the Fort Worth Opera Studio.
Seen in the light of unrealistic expectations (Fostered by whom? Teachers? The system? Lack of research on the student’s part? All of the above?), it might be understandable that the young singers mentioned above didn’t know any better, or perhaps thought, mistakenly, that they were being confident or assertive. But it’s possible to be assertive and confident without presenting [yourself] as a spoiled brat too lazy to keep track of your own records or do your own research.
“I think perhaps the ultimate sense of entitlement comes from singers who try and crash auditions. I know there are mixed emotions about this, but to me it has always reeked of entitlement and self-importance,” says Laurie Rogers, director of Opera Saratoga’s Young Artists Program and a professional coach/accompanist who works with opera companies across the nation. “You know what we are all going through, sifting through hundreds and hundreds of applications, trying to narrow down our audition lists for limited spots and specific casting needs. I don’t appreciate someone who we did not invite to audition knocking on our door and asking to sing for us. Same goes for the people who missed our deadline and beg us to include them anyway. You have to play by the rules!” She also confesses to being on a one-woman crusade to eliminate a vulgar but popular nickname for rejection letters: “PFO.” “Nobody is ‘entitled’ to an audition, and we are not asking you to ‘f’ off,” Rogers insists. “That just sounds like retreating into a corner and licking your wounds.”
Opera admin war stories are full of anecdotes of misplaced confidence/arrogance. “The iconic story I tell, which happened many years ago—and I always change the names and places to protect privacy—a young singer was singing a small role in an Italian opera at a company where I was working,” relates Rogers. “He did all his recits full of scoops and swoops and portamentos and all kinds of affected nonsense. Our diplomatic Italian conductor got more and more upset and finally said, ‘Ma! Ma questo non è Rossini!’ and this kid, say his name was John, which it was not, had the cojones to reply proudly, ‘Ma questo è Giovanni!’ He was fired the next day.”
“I have a colleague whose career has been stunted by his sense of entitlement,” writes another colleague who has chosen to remain anonymous. “He is so gifted, with a voice of such incredible beauty and agility. He often is given one, two, three chances (tenors always get chances), and then that’s it, goodbye. His manner is very off-putting, and because he thinks he’s ‘got it,’ he doesn’t learn. Learn your music! Listen to the conductor and do what he asks! Don’t offend your host family! I have a motto: Work hard; be nice. This guy can’t get it into his skull because he’s sure he’s the next Big Star. It’s so frustrating. He can’t understand why he’s not getting hired. This kind of attitude is one that people remember when someone calls for a recommendation.”
Ironically, the singer who related this story was once on the receiving end of a “Come to Jesus” talk from a conductor. “He fired me and explained that something was negative about my energy and people didn’t want to deal with me. So I took a two-year hiatus and figured out what was up with me and called him to say thanks! If he hadn’t fired me, I would not be the musician I am today. He risked our friendship but trusted that someday I would understand. I count that as the first big ‘grow up moment’ of my life and am eternally grateful for it. People often take critical advice as a blanket ‘you suck’ and then they go fetal position and they don’t learn from it. It’s hard to get over yourself, but so worth it!” This singer is now back in the conductor’s good graces and works with him regularly.
Unfortunately, such valuable feedback is not always forthcoming, and the various singers, opera company admins, and teachers I spoke to all seemed to agree on one thing: often the most entitled people, the people with the most unrealistic expectations for themselves and their careers, never seem to see themselves in the types of anecdotes that have been shared.
What can a young singer do to make sure they aren’t falling into a trap of bad behavior? How can you project confidence and professionalism without coming across as arrogant? That, my friends, is the topic of next month’s column. In the meantime, now might be the perfect time to do a little soul searching and check up on your own attitude and to consult with trusted advisors who you know will give you an honest assessment of the energy you give off in rehearsal and performance settings.
Until next time, take your colleague’s good advice. Work hard; be nice.
