I began listening to Christa Ludwig recordings while still in high school, and was immediately drawn to her singular timbre and artistry. Ludwig was a favorite singer of three major conductors of the 20th Century; Karajian, Böhm, and Bernstein. Her vast discography shows her equally adept at the operatic repertoire of Mozart, Strauss, Wagner, and Verdi; to say nothing of the incomparable performances of the songs of Mahler, Brahms, Wolf, and Schubert. Her EMI collection of songs “Les Introuvables de Christa Ludwig” has remained in my shifting musical library ever since I received it as a gift nearly ten years ago. In fact, when my home was burglarized in 1996 and all of my CDs were stolen, I replaced this collection first. A few years ago I wrote down a list of various goals I hoped to achieve in the future and one of them was to sing for Christa Ludwig. Whether it is coincidence or a cosmic boom-erang effect, I was unexpectedly presented with this very opportunity in late August, 2000.
After a lengthy preliminary audition process, I was selected to participate as an alternate in a series of masterclasses with Madame Ludwig held at Carnegie Hall last December. This was a particularly unusual event for both the management of Carnegie Hall and Ms. Ludwig, who rarely conducts masterclasses. In Ms. Ludwig’s case, this avoidance is primarily due to the “quick fix” nature of most classes, and the therefore debatable effectiveness of the endeavor. The learning process involved in singing is a slow and intimate journey between trusted teacher and student. These are hardly the elements that comprise a masterclass with a celebrated singer instructing a nervous student in front of a critical audience. How would these masterclasses prove to be different from the rest? How would they measure up to the hallowed memories of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf’s successful ventures into that arena, or more intriguingly, could they compete with the memory of those legendary classes at Juilliard with Maria Callas?
Ludwig chose to instruct the singers (and her adoring retinue of fans, singing teachers, coaches, and students who participated as daily auditors) in the music that is perhaps dearest to her heart: the Lieder of Brahms and Mahler. Certainly in this repertoire she has no living equal. It was evident from the outset that the advice we were being given was coming “direct from the source.”
There was a palpable buzz in the Weill Recital Hall the morning of the first class, with the audience clearly curious about how Christa Ludwig would conduct herself in the classes. Would she behave like a deranged diva or humble servant of her art? Was there to be a singer-participant who would be catapulted into the limelight as a result of these high-profile, well-publicized classes? One could have surmised by Ludwig’s enthusiasm for Stacey Rishoi, an American mezzo by way of Düsseldorf, that she might have been that student! Of Rishoi’s dramatic, velvety-hued voice, Ludwig teasingly said, “I am jealous!” We also had our first glimpses into Ludwig’s personality, her merry sense of humor, her vulnerability, and her ability to communicate candidly without being condescending. Participant Nathaniel Webster, a baritone currently singing with Paris’ National Opera, praised Ludwig’s “gentle way of speaking (that) gets her point across without being harsh or patronizing.” Perhaps most interesting of all, we witnessed the way that Ludwig seemed nearly inseparable from these songs, almost as if they had been composed for her specifically. This goes far beyond merely “understanding” the text. It is transcending the text. Therefore, it seemed quite appropriate that her emphasis would be on clarifying the textual intricacies of the songs, rather than concentrating on technical or even stylistic issues. To Ms. Ludwig, all of these elements are contained within highly specific textual readings.
In an interview with Classical Singer (“The Gehemnis of Greatness,” February ‘00), Ludwig recounts working with Maria Callas on their legendary recording of Bellini’s Norma. Ludwig felt inexperienced in the bel canto style and asked for advice. Maria Callas told her to, “Just imitate me, then it will be right.” When, in my function as an alternate, I stepped in for an ailing singer, I chose to perform “Immer Leiser wird mein Schlummer” by Brahms. I worked very hard at creating a unique interpretation, even though her recording is nearly indelible in my mind. Although she complimented my “expression” she warned me against being “too psychological a singer.” As we proceeded phrase by phrase, I realized I should just sing it more like her recording, and “then it would be right!” Not that she opposed my infusing the song with my own experience; on the contrary. It made me realize how much farther I could go in my interpretation if I had the proper framework. I was too concerned with the frosting on the cake, neglecting perhaps some of the more obvious, basic ingredients. Ms. Ludwig relates to texts in a very direct, literal way. I have since noticed other singers being “too psychological” and how it ultimately detracts from expression. A lesson duly noted.
Other themes kept returning throughout the week-and-a-half of classes. One of them is to never “show your duck’s feet,” which was often repeated in the sessions with New York City Opera regular Shon Sims, and the item that he felt was one of the most valuable pieces of advice he received. Your “duck’s feet” are your less-than-perfect attributes as a singer. Ludwig admonished us all to know our strengths, to master them and to perform them better than anyone else! What I noticed through observing all but a few sessions was that Ludwig’s true gift was communicating exactly what these strengths and weaknesses were, and helping the participant to make immediate change. For example, if a piece seemed “off” to Ludwig, she would often ask Charles Spencer, her extraordinary pianistic collaborator of 15 years and accompanist for these classes, to transpose until a more flattering key could be determined. While working on Mahler’s “Ich ging mit Lust in einen grünen Wald” with Ludwig’s student of six years, participant Gigi Mitchell-Velasco, attempts were made with at least four different keys! To half of the group, mezzo-sopranos Rishoi, silvery-voiced Megan Dey-Toth and wunderkind soprano, 19-year-old Jessica Tivens, Ludwig would often remark they were over-singing. To others, (including me in a second session) she would exasperatedly exclaim, “Sing it like big opera!” Her constructive criticism was definitely tailored to the particular singer’s “duck’s feet” or, lack thereof. As the classes continued, Ms. Ludwig was even more specific and intense in her instruction to each of the singers, remembering from day-to-day what aspects they had worked on the prior sessions. I noticed her becoming more familiar with and affectionate toward the students, but also more relentless in her scrutiny. She wanted to prepare the participants as optimally as she could for the public concert that was to be given at the conclusion of the masterclasses. It was interesting to observe who was motivated by this pressure and who seemed to be more discouraged. Despite (or because of?) her youthfulness, Jessica Tivens seemed particularly determined to incorporate the instruction into her performance and remained positive and confident throughout the classes. Her daily performances demonstrated marked improvement. Nathaniel “Nate” Webster was thrown for a loop when he was told at the beginning of the series that the some of his repertoire was deemed too “lightweight,” and he was asked to learn several alternates. Despite this predicament, he showed remarkable poise and displayed a beautiful voice that Madame Ludwig admiringly said gave her “goosepimples.”
The concert on December 10th was bittersweet. The performances were uniformly professional and polished; it was wonderful to see the improvements that were made and to experience aspects of the singer’s talent that weren’t necessarily highlighted in the classroom setting. Most importantly, Madame Ludwig was pleased. But, we all felt disappointed that the classes had come to an end. Although the pressure had been great at times, it was equally exhilarating to glean information from this great artist and to collaborate with Charles Spencer, an incredibly empathetic musician. The workshop was “completely enriching” for Sims, and “will go down in history as one of the most beneficial and enjoyable artistic experiences I have ever had,” according to Webster. For Ms. Tivens, it was a “magical experience,” for me the fulfillment of a goal. As the weeks have passed since the classes, I am able to better internalize the lessons I learned, some of which are intangible, some more obvious. It has truly inspired me to reach beyond my comfort zone, which is, of course, our goal and duty as performers. On another note, I agree with Ludwig’s assessment that song must be a staple in a singer’s diet in order to maintain vocal and artistic flexibility.
The Professional Training Workshops at Carnegie Hall is developing into a regular event, with classes with Isaac Stern, Pierre Boulez, and Sir Neville Marriner rounding out this year’s season. For more information on how to participate as an auditor, go to Carnegie Hall’s website, www.carnegiehall.org, under “Learning Center” to download an application.
