I have so many stories of singers rejecting repertoire suggestions outright, citing a wide variety of justifications—some valid, but many based on a first impression that would benefit from further investigation. I have so many of these stories because a lot of them are mine, as both a teacher supplying rep suggestions and as a performer programming a concert. And sometimes as an audience member making snap judgements on a performance I think I won’t like because I don’t recognize enough—or I recognize too many—of the composers on the set list! Is this because I’m closed minded? Nope. I’m just a human singer with opinions and preconceptions—some my own, some borrowed, and many not given the time to “bombilate” in my brain (to borrow a term from the Grand Dame of Schitt’s Creek, Moira Rose).
Recently I recalled something a dear friend said about one of my favorite musicals. She stated that she hated it and wanted to punch it [the musical] in the neck! My friend isn’t violent, but her reaction to the mere name of the piece was so visceral and arresting that I’ve reflected on our exchange multiple times over the years. Not wanting to risk hearing another verbal assault on the show—which I won’t name here—I haven’t asked her if her opinion has since evolved…yet.
Morgan Harrison in Beetlejuice.
In my role as a voice teacher, I make musical theatre repertoire suggestions on the daily. And when I suggest a song, it’s frequently because I’m confident that it will satisfy at least two out of the following three criteria: the song will introduce/reinforce specific breath and vowel work in progress; it will (hopefully) satisfy a student’s audition-specific rep request or their concern over what they perceive to be missing from their book; and it will likely expand that student’s breadth of knowledge of a composer or a particular musical theatre or art song idiom.
Frequently I’m not physically present with a student to observe their first impression of a piece. Sometimes they’ll note that they’ve heard it or heard about it or that they don’t think it’ll be their “thing.” Over the years, I’ve learned certain student cues and have become more mindful of when I’m trying too hard to “make fetch happen” with a student and a song. And like so many other things in life, I continue to learn that not only do I have more serenity (in the studio and outside of it) when I don’t try to force an outcome or experience—and in this case, a sonic experience—but also that I have little control over most of the variables involved in someone else’s first impression of a song (even if I am the teacher and I want a student to love a piece and practice it on loop).
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In his 2005 book Blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking, bestselling author Malcom Gladwell contends that “Our first impressions are generated by our experiences and our environment, which means that we can change our first impressions…by changing the experiences that comprise those impressions.”
Morgan Harrison in Beetlejuice.
What a relief—this isn’t all on me! As a teacher and as a performer, things/songs are going to affect and inspire, or even grate on me, differently at different times. I can amend my initial impressions, and so can my students. Sondheim has certainly hit and soothed my heart and ears more meaningfully at times of past relationship tumult and in times loss than in others. Why shouldn’t this be the same for my students? Also in Blink, Gladwell offers that “We don’t know where our first impressions come from or precisely what they mean, so we don’t always appreciate their fragility.” I’m a big fan of this school of thought that first impressions in Gladwell’s paradigm are malleable and can be amended, leaving space to evolve. Right off the bat, I see myself here with a previously long-held opinion that musicals based on successful movies/franchises will be mediocre. And some are! Yet some aren’t. I’ll walk you through my Mean Girls experience—with the musical, not a personal Burn Book!
When I heard that a musical adaptation of the comedy that I liked so much was heading to Broadway, I thought, “Lame! Why can’t people come up with new stories?” And then when I learned that Tina Fey’s husband was composing the show’s music, I quickly wrote him and the whole thing off by carelessly assuming that he got the gig because of his wife. Wow. Judgmental much, Peter?
Not long after, I was elated to receive one of those wonderful FaceTime calls from a jubilant student, sharing huge booking news. With her mom in frame with her, my student Morgan shared that she’d soon be making her Broadway debut in Mean Girls. My joy for her helped to open my mind a crack. In the summer of 2019, my partner John and I went to the August Wilson Theatre to cheer Morgan on from the orchestra floor. My eyes welled up and I happy-cried to see her living her dream in real time—dancing and singing on a Broadway stage. And as the floodgates of my eyes opened, so did my ears. I was enjoying every sixteenth note of the score and couldn’t wait to get my hands on it to begin assigning songs. Of course it makes sense that Jeff Richmond would write an evocative, accessible, harmonically satisfying score, rich with pastiche numbers and hummable melodies. In my initial dismissal of the piece, I’d forgotten to consider his long history of writing for SNL and my beloved 30 Rock! To make sure that I got the point, the universe—and Morgan’s talent—repeated the process for me once more when Morgan left the classmates and the “Plastics” at North Shore High School to join the cast of a new Broadway musical—also adapted from a movie—Beetlejuice. I loved it and saw it twice at the Winter Garden Theatre (and that was before she even joined the cast, so my stage parent-voice teacher bias was dialed down)!
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Morgan Harrison
A broader takeaway for me from these two shows came in the form of a major amendment to my first impressions of the from-movie-to-musical phenomenon. It’s not a phenomenon. It’s a big part of making art and continually telling stories. Plenty of operas were plays first. Plenty of books have become movies, and vice versa. And even if I do conclude that some of the songs in the movie-to-musical idiom are crap, at least I’ve become more open to them. In fact, a lot of fantastic songs and inclusivity are the result of many of these adaptations.
For voice teachers and coaches feeling deflated by a student’s lackluster reaction to some of your suggestions, take a moment to consider some of the factors going into a first impression which frequently go beyond listening to a song for the first time. Singers’ opinions and preconceptions can come from numerous causes and circumstances—including the company they keep; an opinion from an authority figure, taste maker, or influencer that they’ve outsized; peer influence (a.k.a. the committee in the hallway outside of the voice studios); the wrong production or song for them at the wrong time—think H.A.L.T.: were they Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired when they first encountered the literature? And the list goes on. For those assigning, I recommend being present for a student’s introduction to a suggested song (when possible). Take time in a lesson to outline a few of the specifics—artistic and technical—that motivated you to suggest the piece. And then take time to listen to a quality recording together.
There are a lot of songs in the musical theatre canon, and life is too short to wrap our voices around songs we don’t like. But find some time to enjoy the luxury of making your first sonic impression of a song a good one. You may grow to love it, sing it, and book something with it. And if you don’t, go find another one—there are plenty!
