I find myself feeling rather nervous before I pick up the telephone to call Nancy Fabiola Herrera’s hotel room in Saragoza, Spain, where she is singing a concert that night after a successful run of Carmen in Barcelona. The mezzo-soprano is one of the most noted Carmens on the international circuit and will debut with Los Angeles Opera in November singing the role, which she has already sung successfully at the Metropolitan Opera House and all over the world. And who am I? No one.
It occurs to me to ask Herrera if, at the beginning of her career, she had similar feelings as she went to her first coaching of the role with one of the day’s most noted Carmens of the international circuit, Régine Crespin.
Herrera laughs, which immediately puts me at my ease. “Well, first of all,” she says kindly, “we singers, you know, it may look kind of glamorous, but we just have a job to do. It is no different from anybody else. But studying with Régine Crespin—oh, yes, of course, she could be very serious, and when her face was relaxed it could look a bit severe, you know? But oh, she was such a wonderful lady. Such a great person, so strong. She had been through so much, and it showed in her art. She taught me so, so much.”
“How did the two of you first make contact?” I ask. “Did you approach her, did she approach you, or did someone introduce you to each other?”
“It was a little bit of all three,” she says. “I was studying at the Academy of Vocal Arts.” (I make a mental note that the 2007 AudComps winner, Dana Beth Miller, whom I interviewed last year, also studied at the Academy of Vocal Arts. They turn out good singers.) “Régine Crespin came to do a series of masterclasses. I had always known that Carmen was a role I wanted to sing, and Régine Crespin also recommended that it would be a good role for me.”
“That must have been a great confirmation.”
“It was, it was. And she said, ‘Come to Paris and study it with me!’ So I did.”
“I’m picturing it in my mind,” I say, putting my pencil down for a moment and flexing my fingers. “You are a Spanish woman. Régine Crespin is French. And the two of you are meeting in Paris to discuss the character of a Spanish gypsy as seen through the eyes of a Frenchman. What a fascinating meeting of the minds.”
“It was, it was!” exclaims Herrera. “Carmen, you know, she is such an interesting character.” I grin, and pick up my pencil again. Herrera is on a roll.
“Bizet was such a wonderful composer, because he never even went to Spain and he gives us this wonderful character who is so Spanish and at the same time, on top of that, there is the French refinement. You have to have both. Both are there in the music.
“Some people think Carmen is just a slut. She’s not. Bizet’s Carmen is a very classy woman. She is so earthy, so Spanish.
“If you want to sing Carmen, you go to Spain, to Andalusia. You watch the way the women move, the way they talk, the way they bargain in the marketplace. There is a certain way they are, a certain confidence that they have. They live in the moment, totally, passionately in the moment. Tomorrow, it’s like it doesn’t even exist. And they can get so angry, so furious. They throw things around, and then the next moment it’s all over.
“Carmen is also very practical. There is a lot to admire about her. That’s a great thing I have learned about Carmen as a person. What matters is the moment. I think Carmen does it by nature, she just doesn’t worry about what’s going to happen tomorrow. ‘I’m here with you. I can love you madly, with all my heart, my body, everything. And if a week from now it’s not working anymore—ciao!’ She doesn’t waste time if it’s not working anymore. If she’s not interested, she is gone and on to the next thing. She loves with all her heart and soul—as long as it makes her happy—and she is so in the moment with that that it just doesn’t make sense to her at all that Don José is still back there. She has no patience for that. ‘It’s over, why are you wasting my time?’ So there’s this intense earthiness and practicality that are who she is.”
“It must be interesting finding the balance between that earthiness and the French aesthetic,” I tell her.
“Yes, yes, it is. And finding that balance is very individual for each interpreter of the role. You have to find who she is for you within the music. The music is so sensual, but it is sensual in a very refined way, a very French way. And that is why everyone who wants to sing Carmen should study it with a French person, as well. Régine Crespin taught me so many things about the music, little things that make all the difference—‘Let the maestro know what you are doing here,’ ‘Be careful with this phrase because it is easy to drag,’ ‘Be right here and ready for this pickup’—all the little things. But the elegance, that is the main thing that she taught me, and that must be there in the way you move and the way that you sing the music. Carmen is such a strong woman and a very beautiful woman. She’s not one or the other. She is both at the same time.”
“You really love her, don’t you?”
“I really do,” Herrera replies.
“What do you think of the character of Micaëla?”
“Oh, she is very beautiful too, but in a different way. It is brilliant the way that Bizet has both of those characters. They are so different from each other. Micaëla is totally honest. She is very noble, and generous, and open, open with her heart.” Herrera laughs heartily. “And, you know, it is funny that Micaëla sings about Carmen ‘elle est dangereuse, elle est belle’ [she is dangerous, she is beautiful]. Carmen in real life may be the more dangerous woman, but on stage, Micaëla is a little bit more dangerous. She sings that beautiful aria, and gets all the applause!”
