You’re a senior voice major. You know what singing is all about. You have four-plus years of vocal study under your belt. You’re ready to go to NYC and knock ‘em dead, right? Well, maybe you are–and then again, maybe you aren’t.
Back in the dear days almost beyond recall, I went to NYC with six years of vocal training under my belt, ready to “knock ‘em dead.” What do you think was the first–and most difficult–lesson I had to learn? The professional world of singing doesn’t run by the same rules as the student world. The choices I faced were: Change gears, or go back home where I could nurse my naïve preconceptions.
The first gear I had to shift was that of technique. Imagine, after all that vocal training, singing for a New York voice teacher and being told that the only way he/she would even consider taking you as a student would involve your spending a year to 18 months unlearning all the bad vocal habits absorbed from your previous teachers. Talk about a reality check . . .
Now, of course you would never have such an experience because your teacher was the greatest in your hometown or your University, right? Well, that’s the way I saw it–at first. Outraged and indignant, I stormed out of that NYC teacher’s studio! How dare she! About the third time I went through this particular wringer with other NYC teachers, reality began to dawn in my befuddled brain–your hometown or the university just ain’t New York, or San Francisco, or Milan, or Paris. I returned to that first teacher, M. Louise Taylor, with my proverbial tail between my legs, and agreed to spend a year or two unlearning my bad habits. Oh, what a bitter pill that was to swallow! But I did change gears, and because of that I survived in that rough-and-tumble world of NYC operatic hopefuls.
The second gear I had to shift was the naïve notion that “talent is all.” If you have the raw talent and superior vocal instrument, the professional singing world will break your door down, right? My observations proved otherwise. I say “observations,” because I observed singers with far greater talent than my own try to make it on sheer talent. Eighty percent of those individuals are back home living happy, productive lives as insurance salespersons, or homemakers, or owners of sporting goods stores–some even teach voice. Every one of those outstanding singers had what it took to sing at the Met or New York City Opera. So what happened? They didn’t develop patronage. Most of the singers who have made it are the ones savvy enough to find someone to open the right doors for them. Patronage gets you to the top–talent is what keeps you there.
Going for a professional career is a long-haul affair. I have seen singers come to NYC (and this could be any cultural center in the world) with a firm deadline in mind. “I’ll give it two years, and if I’m not at the Met by then I’m going back home.”
Well, guess what? All of those guys and gals are back home. Be prepared to stick it out at least six years, minimum.
“But Daddy only agreed to pay for my apartment for two years!” you stammer. Get ready to change gears again. A singer in pursuit of a professional career simply has to become self-sufficient. Let me announce the great exception to this rule: He/she who is savvy (and lucky) enough to find a patron, can often obtain subsistence from that patron–but be prepared to jump when your patron yells “Froggy.” For the rest of us vocal survivors, it’s the ol’ Day Job (often as not, it turns out to be the ol’ Night Job). Big cities have a thousand and one opportunities for employment–but the job has to be flexible. Voice lessons, opera workshops, coaching sessions, solfege lessons, etc., always seem to come at a time when most businesses want their employees at their work stations.
Okay, I think I’ve rubbed your sweet young noses in that strange stuff called reality long enough. By all means go for your dream–but be flexible and ready to shift gears as necessary. Most of you will be strangers in a strange land no matter what metropolitan cultural center you choose. And they make the rules, be they good, bad, or indifferent. It’s the same old basic paradigm of life–adapt, or life passes you by.
And what happened to me? I was guilty of not having the savvy to develop a patron. Yeah, I lasted twelve years and had a couple of dozen lead operatic performances under my belt. But I never developed the influence to open those big doors. Don’t feel sorry for me, though. Believe it or not, there is life after a singing career. Those tough years I spent pursuing an operatic career turned out to be the most intense period of personal and spiritual growth of my life. I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything.
So even if you lose, you still win. Go for it!
