PRO SINGERS
David Cox
I have often been impressed at how close we get to our colleagues when we work together. We fall in love, become best friends, or sometimes hate each other. These passions are not all that surprising when you look at what we do. I do not require that my colleagues be my support system, but they always are anyway. We walk out in front of thousands of people, stripped naked (sometimes literally). We bare our souls, and put our talent out there for all to see and judge. When we in turn judge ourselves by the applause, compliments, and especially money, we put ourselves in a very tenuous position indeed. Perhaps not everyone who can sing should be a singer. There are many other requirements in the package. Of course you must sing, act, learn music well, and move well–but I often tell younger singers that a lot of the job is being able to adapt to new situations, get along with new people, and be physically and mentally strong. Being away from home and your loved ones (I will be home about 10 days for the next three-and-a-half months) is a requirement in what we do. It seems to me that these things should be spoken of in schools and conservatories, along with the other training. Perhaps someone could have noticed and given Ed some alternatives. But sadly, in the end, perhaps there was nothing any of us could do at all. I am sorry.
Darren K. Woods
When Ed was here in Virginia two years ago, he was to sing Tolemo in Gulio Cesare. He was having some musical problems, and ran out of a rehearsal. He was found in a corner crying. When the stage manager asked if he could help, Ed cried a primal scream and ran out of the building and never returned. Virginia Opera tried to help on several occasions with a wonderful lady named Ella Grimes (the “mom” at Virginia Opera) calling his manager, etc., to find out about him, and to help him. Ed was, as you say, good at hiding his feelings. He said that he wanted to put this behind him and go on. Oh, that all of us had seen this for the cry that it really was. Thanks for your work.
Name Withheld
Part of the cause of my depression was a lot of midlife stuff, and part if it was definitely career-related. I found that I was more “successful” than I had ever anticipated; therefore, I was away from my wife, children, and friends so much that my life was way out of balance. I was way out of balance. I had gotten what I had asked for, but I felt as though I’d been handed the bill for my career, and I had no idea it had cost me that much. I was never suicidal, but my marriage was suffering–I was suffering. So I began therapy and counseling, and it all worked out eventually. But it took years.
Name withheld
We have to trust ourselves. We have to know that we’re going to have down days, or that our coaches or teachers or agents are going to tell us, just when we feel we’re on the top of the world, that actually, you need to work on this, or I heard this and it is of concern to me. This is happening to me right now. I just finished singing three shows in various states. I came home feeling pretty good. Did an audition the other day and my agent brought up some concerns. Success doesn’t mean singing at the Met–success doesn’t mean looking like Whitney Houston, or some other person who falls within 1/100th of 1 percent. Success does mean being happy with yourself. You can’t ask a Ford Escort to drive with the handling and speed of a Ferrari, and if what you are is a Ford Escort, well, you know what? They look pretty good and handle pretty well. How often do you find a road and a time where you can drive 140 miles an hour?
Name withheld
I was diagnosed with manic depression, but I didn’t believe anyone. I thought they were saying it to control me. I thought that rather than being ill, I’d just finally broken out of my shackles! I did a lot of destructive and dangerous things during this time. I didn’t seem to be able to say no to men or anything else. I tried to kill myself a few times, but still didn’t understand I was sick. I moved out of the house into a real dump because I had to be alone to feel better. I had the lead in a great opera at the time, but couldn’t seem to memorize the music. I’d stare and stare at it, but couldn’t figure out how to get it in my head. They were about to replace me.
One of the singers finally took me aside and told me she thought something was wrong with me. For some reason, I believed her. I finished the opera somehow and then agreed to check into a hospital, only on the understanding that I could get out in a week for another performance I had to do. They lied to me and said, “No problem.”
It became clear to me really quickly that I was not going to get out for a very long time, and that I really was sick. The worst phone call was to my manager. I told him I was in the hospital–didn’t say what kind–and I needed him to cancel an upcoming job. He got very angry and annoyed at me, but somehow I knew he was being a real jerk.
Being in the hospital felt surprisingly wonderful. I knew no one there was trying to do anything but help me, and I felt safe. Since then, I’ve come to grips with the fact that this is a real illness. If I want to have a productive life, I have to admit that. I’ve seen a lot of singers with these same traits, but they don’t know they are ill, and it makes me so sad to watch them destroy themselves and their lives when there is no need.
Name withheld
I feel very angry at therapists in general. So many do not understand an artist’s personality or temperament, labeling everything an illness. Some artists do need medication and actually are ill. I wasn’t. I was having trouble in my personal life but instead of helping me fix the problems, they put me on medication. This made me physically sick, so I wasn’t able to deal with my life, much less fix it. Psychiatric medication was the solution to everything, then more medication to fix the effects of the first medication, etc. Overreactions to the medication (how many psychiatrists understand an artist’s constitution?) won me immediate disrespect and sneers from the emergency room. I was promptly put in the psych ward–not because of my behavior but because I was on psychiatric medication. I was treated like I was incompetent to make any kind of decisions.
Back in therapy, I was told that my career dreams were “delusions of grandeur,” that intense musical experiences were “hallucinations.” I was told I could never be a singer. I was told I was a manic-depressive, or had borderline personality disorder, and on it went.
It was a teacher who finally clued me in that my basic personality was completely normal for a singer. Yes, I had had problems, but in my case, the medication made me worse. Something clicked in my head and I decided to take control of my life back again. A huge step. I took myself off of everything quite slowly, but the psychiatrist threatened to have me hospitalized involuntarily. I convinced my family to let me try it. My head cleared and I was finally able to figure out what to do and how to fix my life.
Getting back to singing somehow seemed to clear my soul of a lot of garbage. My big triumph came when, two years later, I had to go back for a re-evaluation by my last psychiatrist. He talked with me for 30 minutes and finally said, “I have to apologize. I must have misdiagnosed you or you could never have been off medication for this long.” I left cheering. I am now singing full-time and my life is happy. I know some people really do need medication. But some of us just need help in understanding and dealing with this very tricky thing called “the artist’s personality.”
GENERAL DIRECTORS
Robert Swedberg,
General Director, Orlando Opera
Thank you for your sensitive and proactive approach to dealing with our understanding of what happened with (and to) Ed. I agree that it is healthy for all of us to discuss this situation, and to try to use it as a means of understanding our feelings about depression. We certainly don’t want to focus on Ed’s situation out of what might be called morbid curiosity, and that is perhaps why you heard some objection to highlighting it. But I believe you have given the background in a very insightful way, and the discussion should be very healthy for all of us.
I won’t get into a lot of detail here, but I will say that our company has dealt with a situation where a key player on our staff has suffered from a bipolar condition so severe that this individual was no longer able to continue with us. This person is a very close friend as well as a colleague, so the heartbreak for all of us is still very intense.
It may also be useful for you to consider how companies can deal constructively with those who may be in trouble. What are our legal and moral responsibilities, and where do we perhaps cross the line (if there is one) between caring personally, and doing the right thing professionally? I don’t claim to have answers, although I do think we, as a staff and Board, have had to grapple with a situation that we were not prepared to handle. This may be a useful discussion for those who have not yet imagined that they might ever be in a position to have to make similar decisions.
Also, please add my condolences to the White family. John Myers [Ed’s manager] was just here to see our Turandot the Tuesday before Ed died. We were discussing Ed as a possible Bonze in a Butterfly next season, and he had left me a tape of Ed’s Hagen in Arizona. Because of Turandot obligations, I was not able to listen to it right away. It sits on my desk, and I don’t know what to do with it.
I am very impressed with the dedication and depth of service that you are providing for singers (and the entire industry). Please continue to include me in your postings, and let me know if I can be of any service to you.
Ann Summers, manager
(Ann Summers International)
I was truly devastated to read the email regarding Ed. Because of the suicides I heard about on my return to Canada 20 years ago, I started the Resource Centre. It is a way to help artists keep focused through periods of depression, especially in the year-and-a-half to two years they must wait for any real employment once their training is completed. Companies are working at least two years ahead, and even if singers audition the first day out of school, their first job will only come in two years, or if they’re lucky, a little less. In his recent interview on a CBC special television program, Ben Heppner described those years as his “desert years,” which he somehow had to get through in order to have the career he enjoys now. This should also be an inspiration to those artists who are having to wait through their “desert years.”
Careers come in three parts–the entry years, the high earning years and the retirement years. If artists could think of their careers in such a way, it may help to project themselves out of the sadness and depression. Motivation into the future is sometimes a healthy thing.
In our programs we try to inform artists that a second career should be planned for when they are ready to retire from performing. Also, we teach how stay focused, even though they may feel disconnected from the industry from time to time.
It would be important for other artists who are ready to retire from performing to know that there is training in management, available if they may wish to obtain it. I am training apprentices in my office every season, and it would be wonderful to have people from the ranks to work in management. Many thanks for your work.
TEACHERS
Ellen Faull
As a former singer, and presently as a teacher with a number of students who are active professional performers, I would like to speak about the difficulties we are faced with in a singer’s career. Today there are many more opportunities with apprentice programs, competitions, and smaller opera companies, as well as the “Big Ones,” in which to perform, than there were at the start of my career. However, there are far more singers to vie for these auditions. It is not surprising that depression can enter into the performer’s life. We, as teachers, must be there to encourage and support singers, as well as help them face the problems that arise. I was fortunate to have a wonderful mentor in my first teacher, and it has always been my aim to pass along some of the stability I learned from her. In addition to that help, I found it invaluable to seek good psychological counseling. The more secure you are, the less those outside factions can get in the way of your performing, whether it be auditions for opera, or concert, or oratorio. Parents aren’t always in tune to the needs of the singer, but teachers and coaches can be, and if you are in a hurtful relationship with a mentor–leave. There is so much to speak of about the singer’s performing life–enough to fill many books. If this career is what you want, go for it. Don’t expect it to be easy! But find a proper balance, and be as realistic as possible.
Sarah Arneson, voice faculty,
Boston University
I find it important to air this subject because so many people do pretend everything is fine and hide their pain, until it is too late. I have had voice students at the Mozarteum in Salzburg, and at Boston University, who have done the same. In each case, I was grateful they talked to me, because they needed my understanding and support, and not my disapproval. They were able in many cases to accomplish more than the so-called healthy singers, because healthy singers often wasted time on frivolous problems (will he call me tonight, or not?). Knowing they had my support, and that I would never discuss their problems with anyone but them, helped them focus on their work.
Most of all, it helped me to understand how fragile mental health can be, how a chemical imbalance can destroy a young life, and that it can happen to anyone, any time. Depression must be treated, and one must have infinite patience with finding the right combination of drugs to treat it; many give up too soon. It is exactly then, when the depressed person needs the strength of friends and family, and all talk of “black holes” should be banished. It is often not the depressed person who is pulling others into their “black hole,” in my experience. Rather the opposite is happening–the self-centered people around them are expecting the depressed person to be strong for them. Thank you for your efforts, and please extend my condolences.
Erik Johanson, Tenor
Assistant Professor of Music
University of Toledo
My father-in-law, who I thought was the happiest and luckiest man in the world, a psychologist and fine pianist, took his own life, and no one–not even my mother-in-law–identified the pain of his depression. I have seen younger colleagues drown their suffering in alcohol and cocaine, rather than deal with the depression for what it is–for what this business does to the self. All conservatories ought to have a resident psychological counselor, along with the music business programs. I myself have been on Prozac 20 mg per day since last April. They told me it would take two to three weeks to kick in, but it took four days! I feel wonderful, and there has been no change in my voice. I am a college professor, and under a lot of stress. None of that has changed–I just handle it better. I am experiencing performance anxiety for the first time, and my overriding need to perform has been reduced. I just don’t seem to need the high as much as I did. I have more fun with my wife and child; the weather being bad does not bother me; if I have to go without singing for a couple of days, I don’t want to shoot myself. I wake up easily and rested in the morning, and I go to bed earlier at night. I want to sing very much, and I am going to sing a lot of music in the next few years, because the drug has helped me to not feel guilty. Here’s to better living through chemistry! –Erik Johanson, Tenor, Assistant Professor of Music,University of Toledo
EMERGING SINGERS
I have never chosen to tell my whole story, but Edward’s story hit too close to home. I went through the suicidal bit, the self-destructive bit, the pill-taking bit, and years of intensive therapy (two and three times a week all through high school, and once a week for two years in college). All the while, I could never tell anyone that I wanted to die, especially in high school. Then again, how much of a secret could it have been? But about two weeks ago, my sister noted that I was happier as of late. I have been on a St. John’s Wort regimen. At work, I have a reputation for being friendly and cheerful (hey, you have to at least fake it when you work at a “help desk”). Just as Edward faked it to “be professional,” so do we all. I have three master’s degrees, yet still have many moments when I feel like a vocal and professional failure. I just can’t do enough to feel worthy. How many of us go home, curl up in the fetal position and eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s when we have a lousy audition? Here is the key–when you know you are going to have another lapse of depressive behavior, you can do things to help ease it. I have developed the toolbox to deal with these times in a healthier manner. One thing is for sure–I am alive today because I got some great help.
It grieves me deeply to hear that a singer took his life. The pain that singers seem to have is astounding to me. I have it myself. I’ve been told to talk with other singers, but am reluctant to do so, because I hate being perceived as a failure. After auditioning, and getting no feedback except rejection notices, I am considering not pursuing singing any longer. I think it has become less about whether or not I have talent, than whether or not I can live with the constant stress of wondering whether or not I’m good enough. The roller-coaster ride of confidence and black depression seems to be intrinsic to the life of a singer. I don’t believe I can do this any longer, and will return home and look for the next thing in my life. But I wonder when the tears of grief will stop when I hear vocal music on the radio, when I hear music that goes right through me, and I think, “I am so very sorry that I wasn’t good enough or patient enough or tough enough. I’m so sorry.”
I’m touched and encouraged to see a magazine deal with such a difficult issue. I’ve experienced severe depression on and off for years. Unlike many singers, I have had the privilege of studying with an incredibly wise teacher. When I first started working with her at age 25 (with a plethora of vocal problems, I assure you), I asked her if she thought I could have a singing career. I will never forget her response, for it truly changed me. She said, “Well, we won’t really know much of anything until your technique improves, but I’m afraid even then I would have to say that you’re asking the wrong question.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“A career is dependent upon so many factors, some in your control, and some not. But if you are taking lessons to have a career, then you almost certainly will not. If you want to sing–that I can help you with.”
I think this is such good advice, because it keep our focus upon the joy of our art. We can always win in this career if we love what we do! If we love the music, and love to sing, and don’t care about getting the part–suddenly we are freed to be who we are, and we stop trying to be somebody else, with somebody else’s voice, etc. I’m thinking of a quote from the movie Patch Adams, where Robin Williams’ character says, “If you treat a disease, you win some, you lose some. But if you treat the patient, you always win!” It is the same with singing–if we sing to work, we will sometimes be happy and sometimes be disappointed. But if we sing just to sing for our own joy–then we will always win.
One other thought on depression–I wonder if a lot of us aren’t depressed because we eat poorly. I think that because singing is so demanding, many feel they can “reward” themselves with food. Though we crave these foods, they might be the very things which are perpetuating mood swing cycles. Again I applaud you for delving into this topic.
I work with mentally ill adults every day, and I am gaining an enormous understanding of these people. I was diagnosed with a mental illness, myself, and am a recovering alcoholic. At age 26, I have seen a lot and been in the depths of hell. It is not that I don’t want people to talk about these problems that singers have. I am more of the opinion that it will be virtually impossible to discuss some of these things publicly. I have firsthand experience with what a suicidal singer may have been thinking, but somehow, someway I made it out of that tailspin of a lifestyle. I am taking a Metropolitan National Council audition this spring. Two years ago, this would have been unheard-of–I had the talent, but was a very sick person. If I don’t make it in this business, I hope to one day be one of the world’s first musician psychologists, much like a sports psychologist. There are many singers out there that finish a big gig, and go out afterward and get hammered, or take prescription meds just to get through a gig and become addicted, or lose hours upon hours of sleep over anxieties involved with the profession. I have firsthand knowledge in all of this, and I want to give my two cents on this topic. I don’t have all of the answers, but I may have some relevant ones. I do grieve for a fellow singer who is in pain. I do understand that others would want to know the when’s and why’s. But there’s a right way and a wrong way. I mourn heavily for this singer, because it could have easily been me.
My son, Matthew, suffers from manic-depressive illness. I do, too, but to a much less severe degree. It is genetic, so some families are affected much more than others. Those with manic-depressive illness stand a 20 percent chance of passing it on to their children. Many creative and artistic people suffer from it, and nearly all are of high intelligence. Here are a few: Berlioz, Bruckner, Dowland, Elgar, Gesualdo, Handel, Holst, Ives, Klemperer, Mahler, Schumann, Tchaikowsky, Warlock, Wolf, Berlin, Coward, Foster, Parker and Porter. What makes it so dangerous is its difficulty to diagnose. May I offer some suggestions that may help you to put together something that will be of real and lasting value to the singing community? I am completely serious when I tell you, you WILL save someone’s life simply by pointing the way to where they can find support and get help. On the Internet, there are all kinds of wonderful home pages that deal with depression and manic depressive illness. All you need do is use any of the major search engines. The words “depression,” “bipolar,” or “manic-depressive illness” will yield a wealth of information. Nearly every page you find will list the symptoms. If you do nothing else, please list them in your article. Family and friends of those suffering from depression will instantly recognize the symptoms. Recognition and acknowledgement of the illness is the first step in management and recovery from it. Here’s a quick list: Apathy, lethargy, hopelessness, sleep disturbance (it can be too much or too little sleep), slowed physical movement, slowed thinking, impaired memory and concentration, and loss of pleasure in normally pleasurable events, suicidal thinking, self-blame, inappropriate guilt, and recurrent thoughts of death. If manic-depressive, the mood swings either way, with either mania or depression being dominant.
As a depression survivor, I wanted to forward my thoughts to any singer who might be struggling with depression, or having suicidal thoughts. First, when a person suffers from depression, he/she cannot see any hope, any future, any possible release except the ultimate one. I’m here to say that no matter how hopeless your financial, relationship or other situation might seem, it is only temporary! It is being affected by your mood, moreover, so the situation is feeding off itself. Other people pick up on your depressive state and, unfortunately, most folks who aren’t professionals can’t deal with another person’s despondency and so tune out–which of course makes the depressed person feel even more isolated.
So what to do it you’re depressed? I’d like to offer my suggestions.
Recognize that you are ill, in exactly the same way as if you had some physical illness. Without treatment, you can die from a simple flesh wound if you allow it to fester; likewise, depression has a way of sneaking up on you, until one day you wake up and you feel your life is over.
Get help from someone who is used to treating depression. Finding the right therapist is like finding the right voice teacher–there are more than a few quacks out there. (One “therapist” said to me, “You want to kill yourself? Ok, do it!”) Don’t give up if the first, second or third one doesn’t work for you–keep trying!
Try medication. Some people don’t think they can. They have a hard enough time admitting they need help, a still harder one convincing themselves that they have a treatable illness, and not some incurable character flaw. And many believe that all psychoactive drugs are morally equivalent to abusing alcohol or some illicit substance. NOT TRUE. These families of drugs don’t cause addiction, they don’t cause “highs”–they merely stabilize the amount and uptake of serotonin in the brain. They take several weeks in many cases to take effect. If you start an antidepressant, make a deal with yourself that you will give the medication time to take effect.
OK, so you can’t stomach the idea of Prozac or other prescription drug. Try St. John’s Wort. It works like many other antidepressants, but with fewer side effects, and it doesn’t involve actually seeing a psychiatrist, which may be financially difficult for some. Problem is, when you self-medicate, you’re not getting the supervision of a physician, nor are you getting the cognitive therapy that might make you feel better faster.
There is a wonderful book out called Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy, by Dr. David D. Burns. It gives wonderful cognitive-type help.
DON’T rely upon your friends as “therapists.” They don’t have the training to give you the kind of help you need, and they will probably end up getting frustrated and pull away, which will make both of you feel worse.
Remember that you are not a failure or somehow defective because you are depressed, even if your life or career isn’t going the way you’d wanted it to. When you recover from your depression, you may find yourself suddenly immensely successful. Walking through life depressed is like trying to sing with a Mack truck parked on your chest. It saps your mental and physical energy. It is tragically ironic that the memory lapses which seem to have been a contributing factor in Mr. Russell’s death were probably the direct result of his depression.
As I mentioned, I’m a depression survivor. I want to let everyone out there know that there IS hope, that every human being–and that means you–is a precious gift from God, with a limitless future. You have the right to be happy.
I was very saddened to hear of the suicide of a fellow singer. For me, what it underscores is how tough this business is, and how important it is to have other positive things in your life besides singing. I am glad you have developed a forum for addressing so many singers’ issues including this one, but I haven’t heard from anyone about how we can change the horrible life style a singer has to deal with in order to have a career in this country. Singers in Europe and other musicians (orchestral musicians, for example) in the U.S. do not have to travel all the time, and can have some semblance of a home and personal life. Why do singers put up with these conditions, particularly now when opera is supposedly gaining popularity? I have chosen to put my family first, and I don’t regret it in the least, but I wish there could be a better way. If local opera companies employed local talent, for example, I could be working more. But jetting around the world and never being home to watch my child grow up just isn’t for me, and my life is a lot saner as a result.
I am a member of a family haunted by depression and other forms of mental illness. My father’s death was a horrible one, due to the fact that his heart condition precluded taking his anti-depressant medication. My grandfather took his own life. I myself have been saved, thank God, through drugs, therapy and a fabulous support system, as well as a strong spiritual foundation through 12-step recovery groups. But I am well aware of what a horrible disease this can be, and how many people are still trying to keep it in the closet. My former husband, a wonderful singer, wouldn’t take his medication because it dried out his throat too much, and so is still to some extent, depressed. I had a student in my studio yesterday who is battling the side effects that his medication has upon his voice as well. I am grateful that Prozac has had no deleterious effect on my singing, but I’d gladly give up my career if it meant I had to choose between being depressed and singing professionally. I wish you and all of Ed’s friends and family comfort, peace and relief from your pain.
A friend forwarded the letter you wrote about Ed White. I graduated with a Master’s degree from the New England Conservatory last year after having been in the hospital three times in nine months. I was diagnosed with “major depression.” In May, my doctors insisted that I move into a halfway house, and there I’ve been ever since. I must say that I’m not currently singing, nor am I sure if I ever want to again. It just seems to remind me of last year, and how utterly terrible it was. I was struck by one sentence in your letter. It has been something I’ve thought about for a long time. It is the sentence where you express a desire to understand the “how and the why.” I don’t believe you can ever understand the how and the why. It is not based on any logical set of feelings. Reality becomes a blur, and you can only understand the words of the “demons.” I am very sorry that Ed’s demons turned out to be so strong. I would like to help, in any way I can, spread the word about depression, mental illness, and suicidal thoughts. If it weren’t such a taboo subject, perhaps Ed and others like him would have been better able to receive help. I live with several people who are or have been suicidal. I’m sure I can speak for all of us when I say that we need to inform, inform, inform people about depression. We may never be able to understand the feelings, but if there is a way to make them more acceptable, it may be easier for those in need to seek help. Thank you for addressing this issue head-on.
The best thing I did for myself as an undergrad was attend a liberal arts college, so I could get a taste of everything, and meet people from all walks of life with all types of talents. Immersing oneself in only the performance aspect at a young age can be detrimental for someone who is insecure or immature. I am so glad that I waited until graduate school to do the conservatory thing. Many of the undergrads, however, were not in the best emotional shape–very one-dimensional. Also, they never got proper exposure to subjects like math, the sciences, computers, sociology, etc., so it seemed to be a very lop-sided educational experience. From this experience, I learned something so valuable–that I could do other things besides sing.
Success is perceived. Those who have had the opportunity to sing in a chorus, as a soloist, or have had the opportunity to travel, whether for a young artists’ program or other engagement, should count themselves successful. Compared to the vast majority of people on the planet, singers have traveled more, seen more places, experienced more, and done more with their lives by age 30 than most people will do in an entire lifetime. Those who have the discipline to learn to use their instrument (voice) in a pleasing manner have attained a considerable measure of success. Singers sometimes allow their idea of what success means in a singing career to be distorted by measuring their accomplishments against other stars of opera. This is unfair and self-defeating. Measure your own personal successes against your own efforts, and learn to appreciate each accomplishment as a stepping stone to what you must believe will soon be even larger or continued successes in the future, regardless of the scope or magnitude. Success is not measured by one event, but by a series of events; that when summed together create a history of meaningful and lasting accomplishments in an individual’s life, which we conveniently label “success.”
It has taken me 23 years of performing (since I was 15 years old) to realize why I sing, to realize that I never knew specifically what I wanted from a singing career besides a living wage, and to realize that these are things we each need to know! I sing because it feels good; the vibration coming through me to my audience and back is an intimate relationship, and relationships are what life is about. Until this year I thought I was a failure because I’ve never made much of my income from singing. I’d completely forgotten that life is about the journey, not the destination; and that success is the progressive realization of a worthy ideal. But what is the ideal for each of us? An inspired teacher should help show us how to figure out why we sing, show us how to set our own specific goals in our careers, how to keep our energy positive, and how to take the steps we need to take to achieve our goals. These ideas are just as important as technique! We singers also need to band together with other singers and help each other as we take those steps. Teamwork will build success. We need to remember that if we don’t have enough, we aren’t giving enough.
As a young singer, with my gifts recognized very early on, I had everything I needed to be a working singer today. Access to the best coaching, performing arts high school, graduation with honors from a top university with a well-respected music program. But between the ages of 18 and 25, I became full of anxiety, fear, and depression. I sought the help of psychiatric counseling. I also switched voice teachers in the hope that by working with a more caring individual, I might learn to ease up on myself. The counseling probably saved me from suicide, but I had to let go of singing professionally during the critical years of 25 to 30 to focus on healing my head and heart. Over those five years I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was on Lithium and Zoloft from ages 25 to 28.
At 28 my spouse and I moved from the north to Florida, mainly to help ease my wintertime depression with the increased sunlight of the south. And it worked, leading me to believe that my initial diagnosis might have been wrong and that I had severe SAD (season affective disorder). With the help of my general practitioner and a psychiatrist, I switched to Paxil, grateful to be rid of the side effects of Lithium and Zoloft. And now, at 33, I am back in graduate school as a vocal performance major. I’m “too old” for an opera career, but music is once again a central joy in my life.
Because the demands of singing feed into self-criticism, I created a satisfying life outside of it. Now I am returning to singing with self-acceptance replacing self-criticism. This experience feels similar to the 12-step concept of one-day-at-a-time. So far it is working.
What should be done to help young singers not fall into this same trap? Enable singers to get help early. Always rule out the physical/medical problems first (e.g., low thyroid production, which can cause behaviors similar to depression but has a totally different treatment protocol). Tell the truth about the kind of life a singer can expect. Teach that becoming an artist is a life-long process.
Yes, I feel like a failed singer, even though I have an agent and have worked much more than many friends. The politics of the business are frustrating. Often “the best man” doesn’t win, and hard work and practice don’t pay off. I am 37, and my voice is finally where it should be. Unfortunately, I feel so beat up at this point. I had so many teachers tell me my voice was too small, among other negative, untrue things, like “If you haven’t made it by this point, you probably won’t.” There’s the feeling that I finally have it together, but since I haven’t accomplished a certain amount, it’s too late.
Then there are the attitudes about what the work is. If it’s professional chorus at the Met or NYCO, it’s still looked down upon. Dancers work to be part of a company; musicians join an orchestra; even in musical theatre the ensemble is respected. Why is it that singers are taught that only a solo career of a certain caliber counts? There are many ways to use your singing and make a living. It seems that many singers would rather temp and complain than do singing work that is “beneath them.” I believe this attitude comes from schools and teachers, who tell us that the international, solo opera career is the only way, and anything else doesn’t count. I would feel more successful if colleges and administrators had more respect for other work.
I have battled with depression on and off in my life, but it has been especially difficult since I came to New York. I have had to work a desk job and have not seen my dreams develop as I had wished. I notice two types of depression in me. One is purely mood-oriented (chemical) and is extremely painful, but not necessarily tied to clear ideas. The other is purely idea-oriented (situational?). I can be cheerful and laughing, but still sense there is no hope for the future, no sense of possibilities. In front of me is just a big concrete wall.
I have been on a very small dose of Paxil for over a year and have been seeing a therapist. I don’t particularly think the therapist is that effective, but it helps just to have someone other than my boyfriend to dump everything on. On Paxil I feel there is a kind of net keeping me from falling into the black hole, so I have stopped fearing it, and that has freed up my mind to start attacking the situation. The wonderful book The Artist’s Way helped me to start using my mind to open up that concrete wall. Chip by little chip I have started to break it down by: 1) Using my imagination to think of singing possibilities and 2) addressing, one by one, each tiny aspect of my paralysis.
It was not enough just to chant affirmations. I had to actually fix each real problem, breaking it down into its smallest components. Technical insecurity, for example, was a big problem, but it consisted of specific details–they could be fixed one at a time.
But it turned out I couldn’t fix them. Why? Eventually I realized that, although I loved my teacher dearly, we were stuck–we weren’t on the same wavelength. So I had to do the unthinkable–leave someone I loved. It was so sad, but had to be. I knew for sure it was the right thing when I found someone who is totally dedicated to solving all singers’ problems, a person of boundless energy, enthusiasm, and no end of creative solutions to every problem, and who loves a challenge.
Within only a few months, I felt vocally refreshed and remembered why I loved to sing. We work together. I go into the lesson with a question or a problem and we solve it together. Now it has been more than a year. I feel good! And the ironic thing is, the better I sing, the less I care about winning, the more fun it is just to sing. When I sing well, it’s easy. Then I feel I am contributing something, and don’t feel so alone. It’s kind of an upward spiral.
I feel much more solid now and believe I have something wonderful to offer. I still want to go for the golden ring, and I am sure I will still get discouraged, but the actual process (now that there IS one!) is fun–solving problems is fun, you know. And any little sign from the world that my strategy is working is such a high. I would rather experience the joy of a million little things one at a time, that in the end add up to “making it,” than make it all at once.
I don’t feel as though I’ve failed as a singer. I don’t know what my status is at the moment. In fact, I’m not exactly sure what constitutes failure or success. I believe success and failure is a personal observation. Am I singing as much as I expected to at this point in my life? No. Are my current goals the same as they were two years ago? No. Am I content with my musical activity at this time? I’m encouraged, but I hope never to be content.
I wish that teachers would be more forthright about the horrible odds against having an economically-viable singing career. There are lots of good reasons to sing, but had I fully understood the market (that it is glutted with very good singers), I might have pursued a different degree and sung on the side. I feel as if I gave it my all, and now feel lost. I think that this issue is particularly hard because singing becomes so much a part of our identity. Now, at 35, if I’m not a singer, then who am I?
I believe that the field of the arts is undergoing a dramatic transformation. The arts have been terribly corrupted by the human ego and greed. This is not in tune with art. All musicians, especially singers, need to discover the reason they sing and make music–and it is a much greater reason than getting applauded and/or a nice review. Depression is a sign that there is confusion regarding these issues. Why not work on the real issues instead of getting lost in surface treatment?
A friend once told me, “Pray as if it depends on God. Work as if it depends on you.”
Singing makes me feel like I can succeed without the material worries. More than anything, singing for me is a therapeutic release of pent-up emotions, anger in particular. Anger makes for some killer coloratura! The value gained from this alone makes “success,” in the conventional sense of the word, immaterial. It keeps me alive.
I “gave up” when I was about 23, after a bad experience with an internationally renowned coach at a big company. I let him sap my love of singing and natural youthful confidence and exuberance, replacing it with vocal problems and a serious set of nerves. I gave up, and then I didn’t even listen to singing for a long time, as it depressed me so very much. Now, six years later, I find myself wanting to sing and being past the age limit for so many things. I also don’t seem to be able to remember how to sing. I am more depressed about this than anything else ever in my life.
I love singing more than life itself, it seems. When I am at home and singing in my house, the world could end, and I would be content. Oh, to do it for real again!
By trying to always meet high standards, I take the attitude that “It Always Matters.” Always. Because when you are doing something that Always Matters, it is less important where you are doing it, or what you are getting paid, and it is hard to be depressed or fail like a failure because your actions and your choices matter. It is when you lose this connection and don’t feel that what you are doing is important that you are prone to depression. I almost always feel like a success–even when there are challenges, when I don’t get the job, etc.–when I really try to make my singing matter. The only time I feel like a failure if when I don’t put forth my personal best or when I handle a situation poorly–that is, when I am an artistic failure.
Singers have to remember that other people’s pathways, studies, careers, and lives are hard, too–that our lives don’t look so bad to people on the outside, and that others have big career disappointments, too. Don’t we all know so many people at temp jobs who dreamed of better careers but are stuck where they are due to one circumstance or another? Not only singers and performers fall into career depressions. Avoiding a tendency to be self-obsessed will help one develop good support networks that will help us when things go wrong.
I think that as singers we can try to get the message through to younger kids that the work we do is important, that no matter where you are doing it, how much you are getting paid, or whatever fate holds in store. Music is a sacred art, and it is a worthy choice. We can set this example by showing more respect to the different levels of success, and not ourselves acting as if there is only one career path to success. If we show respect and admiration for different levels of worthy performances and different achievements, instead of just acting as if the Met or something is the only important venue in the world, that would set a powerful example. We should also, in our own performances, which are in different venues, apply the same artistic standards and never think, “Well, I am only in East South Moose Butt, so it doesn’t matter.” It always matters. When you are doing something that always matters, it is almost impossible to be depressed or fail like a failure.
Perhaps one of the most effective but least realized means by which one can enhance his/her self-esteem is to avoid the following: “No pay/no fee” gigs. This euphemism for “We can’t afford to pay you because you’re only a singer, but the lighting director and make-up artist will get a ‘nominal fee’” has long made singers feel like second-class citizens. Do these companies realize that the message they are giving is this demeaning? To all singers–please avoid these pecuniary peons, dollar-draining drudges. Too many singers are good enough to be performing more frequently than they are and with gratitude due them in the form of some greenbacks. No respectable singer should have put himself in this compromising and demoralizing situation. A singer has one ambition in life: To sing and be compensated, not to pay the wages of unskilled charlatans.
