American soprano Ellen Hargis, who makes her home in Chicago while enjoying an international career specializing in 17th- and 18th-century music, has been hailed as “a national musical treasure” (Continuo). Her extensive repertoire spans the Early Music period and includes everything from ballads to opera and oratorio. In addition, Hargis spearheads the Vancouver Early Music Programme, a two-week immersion program for baroque style and technique which both demystifies the technical aspects of singing baroque music and inspires singers of all professional levels to delve more deeply into this unique genre.
I met up with Hargis over the telephone, where her warm voice and enthusiastic conversation made it clear that this extraordinarily bright woman is a gift not only to early music audiences, but to other singers as well.
What has your last month been like?
Oh, lovely. Loads of fun. A little tiring, though! I just had a long stint on the road—first to Vancouver, B.C., to perform a concert of music referenced or used in Shakespeare’s plays, then to San Francisco for a Bach Mass in B Minor with the American Bach Soloists, then back to Vancouver for Bach Soprano Cantatas BWV 199 and 202 with the Vancouver Bach Project. I had some time at home after that, and the following weekend was the 40th Anniversary Season of the Pittsburgh Renaissance and Baroque Society concert with the King’s Noyse. We did 17th-century English music, plus some jazz.
What delightful programming. Is that rather unusual?
[Laughs.] Well, somewhat! But actually, 17th-century repertoire and jazz have a great, great deal in common aesthetically and are very complimentary.
Tell us some more about that.
There’s a focus on text, simplicity, a certain intimacy of communication. The transparency of early-music orchestration feels more right, somehow, for a jazz piece than a setting done by a modern orchestra, and the beauty of the text shines through. I think that there is a great deal in common between the early music world and the contemporary music world as well, partially because there is simply not as much research that has been done about 17th-century music as about, say, Verdi or Puccini. Hence, that excitement that comes with exploring the uncharted territory of recently rediscovered manuscripts is rather akin to the excitement of an entirely new, recently composed piece. Early music tends to attract people who like to dig deep and ask questions and try new things and solve mysteries.
That’s a fascinating parallel between jazz and early music, specifically. Can you tell us some more about how you got started with programming the two genres together?
Oh, certainly. A few years ago, my duet partner [Paul O’Dette, a renowned lutenist] and I started presenting jazz standards as encores—quite seriously presented, you know, not making them joke pieces. I remember the first time. We were at the University of Chicago discussing encores for a recital there and I said, “Wouldn’t it be great to do something for Valentine’s Day like ‘My Funny Valentine’?” He thought it was a great idea and we called an old friend in New York, Pat O’Brien, an old jazz man, and said, “Can you write an arrangement for us?” He said, “Sure!” and wrote one out and faxed it and we performed it that night. The audience loved it. That was the beginning. We’ve been doing it ever since.
Can you tell us a bit about your path to early music? Where did it all begin for you?
It all began with my public high school choir teacher in Ann Arbor, Michigan, Louise Ward. She was an amazing woman. One of the last of a generation of public school teachers who never went to “teacher’s college” and by today’s standards would be considered undereducated. What nonsense! She was a wonderful teacher. Inspired. Gave the world to her kids. And she was the kind who sort of rescued troubled kids and gave them something to live for. She made a huge difference in my life, and her students are very loyal to her. We’re scattered all over the globe, but we started a foundation in her honor.
Providing scholarships for kids who want to go on to major in music?
That’s right. Anyway, in high school she led the madrigals group. We sang what was available at the time, the Schirmer editions and the standard folios. And that was the beginning for me. I was hooked!
Did you always know that you wanted to be a singer?
Oh my, no. I was an instrumentalist. In college, I majored in music but wasn’t sure what I wanted to do—if I wanted to be a choir director or play continuo or what. A huge influence at that time was Lyle Nordstrom, my collegium teacher at Oakland University. There were tons of different ensembles for different levels and lots of room to grow. A lot of the students were multi-instrumentalists, so we all learned from each other.
At the college level I was hooked by the instruments first and then sang in the choir, but didn’t do any [vocal] solo work. My solo work was all on recorder and viola da gamba. I was dragged into singing kicking and screaming—but once I really discovered it, that was the end of the instruments for me!
With your international career, it seems like you’ve made the singing work for you just fine!
[Laughs.] Well, thank you.
Speaking of singing, I’d like to ask the million-dollar question: How important is good vocal technique to the successful performance of early music?
Crucial. Critical. Absolutely essential. Irreplaceable.
I thought you might say that.
I study with Nina Hanson, who ran the Young Artist Program in Santa Fe and also has a very successful studio in Boston [and] one in New York—she travels around a lot. Her students follow her about and, basically, we won’t let her retire. But the point is, she teaches many different voice types that sing wildly divergent types of repertoire. We all have the same toolkit, no matter which tools you use for what repertoire.
There’s a place for big voices in early music and a place for smaller voices in perhaps more standard repertoire. Even within the perhaps more mainstream, standard opera house repertoire there is plenty of diversity as far as weight and size and flexibility of voice—you don’t want a Wagnerian Brünnhilde type singing Susanna in Le nozze di Figaro. Voices come in many shapes and sizes, and good technique is indispensable for them all.
What are the requirements for a successful “early music” voice? Are there any?
Well, of course there’s a great deal of variation of vocal requirement within the specific genre of “early music,” too—which, if you think about it, is sort of a misnomer anyway as a term. Good heavens, we’re talking about a long period of time here! It’s very interesting that in the 17th century, before Victorian times, it was frequently thought that a light voice was suitable for the opera house (the opera houses, of course, were much smaller then, and nobody was very far from the stage) and a heavier voice for the church.
Exactly the opposite of what we might think today.
That’s right. We associate “church music” with British boy choir sound, but that was not always the case by any means. But in any case, I would say that for early music we generally look for a certain flexibility and limber quality—an ease of production. And again, different voices for different requirements within the genre.
If you’re singing 17th-century songs for solo voice and lute and you have an enormously glorious voice, things may be a bit out of balance—and that wouldn’t do, because we wouldn’t be able to hear the lute. But if you are singing an early opera with an orchestra of theorbos, recorders, a harpsichord, a lute, and a viola da gamba, and you’re singing Medea, then you need some heft and drama to the voice, and a bigger voice is called for. It’s all a matter of picking the right tool for the job.
There can be a “never the twain shall meet” polarity between the “early music world” and the “regular opera world,” with each camp looking down on the other and thinking that “Real singing is the way we do it.”
It’s true! The sound is different. The aesthetics are different. But at the end of the day, music is music.
I’d love to hear more from you about how to break into the early music field specifically. In the mainstream opera world there are Young Artist Programs, the Metropolitan Opera auditions, competitions—lots of ways to get your foot in the door. How do you begin in early music? Do you need to have a degree in early music performance practice to make a successful career in a highly specialized genre?
Oh, goodness, no. I was a Romance Language and Linguistics major, and I believe that Emma Kirkby majored in Classics. Some of the degree programs are wonderful, but the fact is there just aren’t many of them available yet. One great option is the early music summer programs: Seattle Academy of Baroque Opera, Amherst in Massachusetts, and ours in Vancouver [Vancouver Early Music Programme] are some. And every two years the Boston Early Music Festival has open auditions, which are a wonderful way to get heard by some of the top people in the business.
What about networking? How do you begin?
Well, as always in this business, you do have to be creative, with or without a music degree. When I had just graduated from the University of Michigan, I was living in Ann Arbor. I had very limited funds and didn’t have the means to travel to places like New York. So every time a famous singer or group was coming to town, I’d write to their agent and ask if I could set up a masterclass with them while they were in town.
That’s chutzpah. Did it work?
They nearly always said yes. And then I’d sing in the
masterclass. That was how I got my initial exposure.
Wow. Right there in Ann Arbor, Mich.
That’s right.
Getting back to the matter of summer programs, can you tell us about the Vancouver Early Music Programme?
Oh, certainly. We’re a two-week program in late July/early August, sponsored by Vancouver Early Music and hosted by the University of British Columbia. It’s been going for years and years and began initially as a course for both singers and instrumentalists. But we found that singers have such specific and special needs that at the end of the course there was always something we felt we had left out to benefit the singers specifically—so we designed a course that focuses on singers and their unique needs.
We choose 12 students and have five faculty, so there’s a great ratio there, and we focus on all kinds of issues surrounding performance practice: basic early repertoire that everyone should know, baroque gesture, stage work. We do our very best to demystify some of the intellectual work, too, and “crack the code” of old notation, library and research skills, how to tell what’s a good edition, etc. We’re rather unusual in that we don’t have a performance at the end of the two weeks, as we feel very strongly that that takes the pressure off the students.
What kind of students do you have?
We try to choose the best candidates from across the board, and it really varies—graduate students wanting to break into the field, professional singers who need more technical work about the genre. Some bring specific things they want to work on, and we can also recommend and supply repertoire for students who are more at the beginning of repertoire study. It’s lovely as there’s a big music festival going on at the same time, so there are plenty of opportunities for students to hear great performances. I always enjoy it so much, and it’s a pleasure to “demystify” this wonderful genre of early music and share it with as many people as possible—whether by singing it or teaching it.
