“We’ve got magic to do, just for you. We’ve got miracle plays to play. We’ve got parts to perform, hearts to warm, kings and things to take by storm, as we go along our way.”
—Leading Player, “Magic To Do,” Pippin
Who doesn’t love the magic of theatre? The world of the imagination, the suspension of disbelief, the communication of triumph and tragedy through words, music, lights, costumes, and sets. Anyone who has had a transformative experience through theatre will likely have a difficult time expressing the power of that experience through words. There are some words, however, that may be particularly inadequate or—in the opinion of at least one music professional—inaccurate.
Nova Thomas is a singer and Professor of Voice at Rice University’s Shephard School of Music, as well as Teaching-Artist at opera companies across the country. In the foreword to the book The Vocal Coach Approach: When Practice Makes Perfect by Susan Shiplett Ashbaker (Inside View Press, 2022; reviewed in the Winter 2024 issue of Classical Singer), Thomas talks about the potential problems with using the term “magic” to refer to musical performances.
“Extraordinary performances are often described as ‘magical.’ Indeed, that is probably the most accurate description for those transporting experiences that defy the confines of language; but the nomenclature, however flattering, presents a dilemma for those who endeavor to become the delivery systems for making that kind of art. If ‘magical’ is the result, then one might assume that the process is mystical, mysterious, or (even less helpful) just the result of a huge talent, or some ever elusive ‘it’ factor. In truth, the ‘magic’ we all seek is the result of work that has been enormously methodical…The kind of ‘magic’ we all seek requires an egoless, humble, specific, and ordered process.” (p.x)
I find a similar issue when performers are told that their performances seemed effortless. Just like the word “magic,” such phrases seem to dismiss the years of work that performers spend honing their craft, often at great sacrifice (and expense!). As we know from the stages of motor learning, it often takes years of slogging through the early stages of learning, applying effort, enduring failed attempts, and taking the necessary slow steps toward progress before we reach the automatic stage of performance. Comments like those above almost imply that anyone is capable of successful, professional-level performances if they are naturally gifted enough or if they are somehow chosen by some mystical muse who will then use them as the empty vessel through whom they will express profound musical ideas.
I would think these types of comments can be especially irksome for those who do not feel particularly naturally gifted or who did not have the advantage of early musical training. When someone who has built their abilities, seemingly from square one, is told that their performances are the result of anything other than a lifetime of dedication, it can feel as if all of that effort is devalued.
Of course, we sometimes do give performances that feel uniquely inspired. A handful of times, I came away from a performance feeling as though everything aligned perfectly, as it never had before. Nevertheless, even in those moments I had to acknowledge that it was only through consistent work and dedication that I was even in a place where that mysterious inspiration could add that last bit of spark. There is no “magic” that will suddenly come in and make a half-prepared performance come to life.
Now, I’m not saying that we should berate audience members who care enough to offer compliments and praise after our performances. Everyone takes something different away from the arts, and I don’t believe it’s our job to tell people what they should be getting from a performance. (Naturally, education, talkbacks, and other efforts can potentially help people understand performances at a deeper level, but that doesn’t mean audience members are wrong in the opinions they form about our performances.) These interactions do, however, provide opportunities for us to help audiences understand the time and effort that does go into the process of creating impactful art.
Patron 1: “Oh, that performance was just magical!”
Performer 1: “Thank you! It took us a lot of hours of rehearsal to get to that point.”
Patron 2: “It just looks so effortless when you perform!”
Performer 2: “I’m so glad! That’s certainly one of my goals when I’m in the practice room every day.”
Instead of following the Leading Player’s mantra of, “We’ve got magic to do,” we might borrow from Nova Thomas to come up with a lyric that reflects the truer reality for musical theatre singers: “We’ve got work to do—enormously methodical, egoless, humble, specific, and ordered work to do.” That’s probably not as catchy, and it definitely has too many syllables to fit into Stephen Schwartz’s melody. But it may also help us get into the practice room and take our success into our own hands instead of waiting around for magic to improve our performances.
