I am a procrastinator. In spite of my many efforts to change, I have spent years fine tuning this well honed tendency to put things off, wait until the last minute, and do things just before the deadline. I justify my behavior, telling myself that I thrive under pressure and do my best work with a little extra adrenaline pumping through my veins.
This habit rears its ugly head only in my personal life, of course, and never seeps into my professional work. (Ahem, my boss might be reading this.) Which is why I’m certain that I was definitely not at work sitting at my desk when one day, while prolonging a less-than-desirable task by productively surfing the Internet, I came across footage from Barbra Streisand’s 1967 “A Happening in Central Park” concert.
Nearly all of my Streisand exposure has occurred with movies—Hello, Dolly!, Yentl, The Way We Were—and I am a moderate fan. But that afternoon, as I watched her on YouTube singing the popular jazz tune “Cry Me a River,” I was absolutely spellbound. Suddenly, I could almost understand forking over hundreds of dollars to experience her live.
It wasn’t so much what she was doing that mesmerized me, but rather what she wasn’t doing. That June evening in Central Park, Babs sat on a stool at the edge of a simple stage and sang. Even playing to 150,000 cheering fans, she made it incredibly intimate. There were no grand gestures. There was no song and dance or flashy lights, just her on a stool at a single mic.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Something about every little facial expression, tilt of her head, and movement of her body drew me in. Every slight change of vocal color, her attention to a certain word, and her dynamic variations made the text and music come alive. I have never witnessed such a clear and obvious display of pure charisma coupled with elegant artistry.
Preparing this month’s issue of CS reminded me of that experience. Isn’t that charisma, that elegant artistry, that pure communication what we all strive to achieve? Several articles in this issue hold a few of the keys for arriving there.
First, Amanda White brings readers an insightful discussion on how much a singer should move
during an audition. While there is no definitive answer, those interviewed agreed that a successful audition happens when the singer communicates with the audition panel.
Helen Donath, featured in this month’s cover story, understands this well. Her main goal when she is on stage is to connect with her audience. She says she loves people, and when she’s singing to them, she wants them to feel her virtual hug.
Also in this issue, Lisa Houston reports on a masterclass she attended with musical theatre giant Judy Kaye. With each singer, Kaye worked to pare things down to the bare minimum, both vocally and dramatically. Keeping it simple helped each singer bring out the true emotion of the music—and sing better in the process.
Communication and connection begins with knowing exactly what you’re singing about and being clear on what you want to express. Olivia Giovetti offers some great advice on how singers can be their own dramaturg to more fully understand the meaning and character of the music. Kresha Faber brings readers part two of interviews with industry professionals. They discuss how singers can gain that clarity and express it as an actor who sings.
Within all of these articles on acting, communication, and auditions runs the common thread that I observed watching Streisand: less is more. If we try too hard, or do too much, we come across as insincere. That charisma, that pure artistry comes from simple, genuine preparation and communication.
Now if only that were also the key to curing my procrastination . . .
