I saw some spectacular sights before work last night:
Imperial War Museum
from the Lowry
Those dark eyes
watching over me one last time
Imperial War Museum
with a flood of poppies
Those dark eyes again
Gotta take the rough with the smooth
Life on Tour - week 2, Hull
I had a fantastic time in Hull and it certainly wasn’t dull. I love combining pleasure with business, even more so when it involves being near water. After a cold rainy start on Thursday and a smooth drive past Goole towers, Friday was glorious. Waking a bit later than usual meant rescheduling my intended trip to Withernsea beach. I settled instead for a bright brisk jolly welly yomp around Humber Bridge Country Park to dust off the cobwebs from travelling and quite an intense performance of Tosca on Thursday evening.
Park art
Smile with your eyes
I always arrive early for a performance, especially at a new venue. I haven’t played at Hull New Theatre for at least fifteen years so I didn’t know what to expect. I couldn’t even find where to unload my harp so I called for assistance. Chris Ladds deserves a medal and is one of the many unsung heroes of Opera North. He’s the orchestral operations manager. I know he’s only a quick call away when I need to get my harp in, and he invariably has useful advice about parking and other inside information. Chris has quite a challenging job in that he has to satisfy the rehearsal and performance needs of sixty or so musicians, no mean feat when we want to do our jobs to the best of our ability.
Olde and new
The pub near the theatre. The modern building is Hull History Centre
Each pit presents a different set of problems and as I learnt, the Hull pit is no exception. The only position available for me was in front of the doors, at the business end of four horns. With a half hour seating rehearsal, a tentative panoply of options and scarcely enough time to settle in, I didn’t realise how loud it would get. I had earplugs and fingers for the louder moments and I was provided a screen. However, my main problems were my distance from refreshingly passionate and expressive Dutch conductor Antony Hermus, and having a much reduced sightline to him as I was on a lower level than the bulk of the orchestra. I played two short sections in the rehearsal, insufficient time to work out that it would be a difficult position and do something about it. It was an edgy performance and I was glad to have my Pilates mat with me and a bathtub to iron out the creases. I felt no guilt whatsoever at indulging in my hotel room pop up spa the following morning.
Room with a view
These days I tend choose quiet hotels with a bit of greenery whenever possible and Hull was no exception. Hessle is a hassle free fifteen minute drive from the city centre and a generous stone’s throw from the iconic Humber Bridge and its Country Park. I was in room 101 with bridge and tree views as well as wildlife.
Unexpected avians
Peacock plethora in the hotel gardens
Golden gateway
San Francisco? Nope, Hessle
Using my time wisely on tour can be tricky. Playing isn’t an option as my instrument can’t easily be moved from the pit and I feel uncomfortable about practising when there are technical rehearsals in the theatre. My harping wouldn’t be a welcome accompaniment. For this part of the tour I decided to get physical in the morning, so I got a brisk walk under my belt on Friday and a long Pilates session on Saturday. It seemed to work as I felt quite calm. Meditation is daily and non negotiable and helps with learning to manage anxiety.
Precarious
Sliding tree
On Saturday I met up with Patti from the wardrobe department. One of a set of triplets with an older sister, she’s a beautiful bohemian Basque woman from Bilbao and she lights up the corridor as she breezes by. She’s very passionate about her work and I could sense that after a year of living on the road without a base, she’s ready to settle down to pursue a stable job. She says touring and freelancing is very exciting but difficult and tiring at the same time.
Patti
Creative, quirky and funny
We met at Trinity Market over coffee and cannoli and chewed the fat freely. Quite literally in my case after Patti returned to her digs to do her own laundry. I brought enough healthy home cooked food for the first two days meaning I’d earned a bit of a Saturday splurge. I don’t often eat out and when I do I try to choose something I wouldn’t make at home. I went the whole hog, plumping for meltingly tender pork belly, black pudding, smoked egg yolk and sauerkraut coleslaw on flatbread with a side of chips. I didn’t eat the bread - double carbs?!! Within twenty minutes the somniferous food took effect and I headed to my car for my siesta.
Filthy
Saturday special treat
I love that warm open expressive freedom innate to many Mediterraneans and southern Europeans and I miss it from the time I spent in France. I feel uncomfortable around people with stiff upper lips and Patti and I were in agreement that we Brits can be difficult to decipher. Why can’t we just say what we mean? Why do we feel the need to sugar coat everything?
Running out of time and steam from our express conversation, I earmarked the Maritime Museum and the docks for my next visit to Hull. I love ports - the atmosphere and aromas there are intoxicating, a sweet vivid reminder of unforgettable childhood trips with my Dad when he worked on the ships.
The beauty of the beach
without having to get in my car and drive
After an emotional performance of Tosca, my get out was swift and smooth thanks again to Chris’s willingness to protect my harp from the sudden strong gusts of wind. Llwyd welcomed me home with open paws, well, open packets of food strewn across the doormat actually. It’s her favourite expression of protest at being left home alone other than getting herself temporarily rehomed.
Next week is Nottingham and it often snows on this leg of the tour at this time of year, so I’m having my winter tyres put on next week just to be on the safe side. I’m braced for what the season heralds. And I still haven’t met elusive Welsh truck driver Huw - is he hiding from me? Maybe next week at the Lowry…
Structure
Looks like a sci-fi elephant
Speed Blog
Shades of Blue - offstage position
I haven’t blogged for some time. It’s been busy and I’ve started three blog posts but haven’t had time to finish them. So this morning I thought I’d try something new - speed blogging! Sounds like some kind of dodgy online challenge doesn’t it? My longer blog posts don’t take too much time to write and they can be spread out over a few days, or weeks as is the case at the moment. What does take time is the photos and editing, which can go on for a few days after publishing a post.
Blogging can be a great way to attract traffic to a website and to please that search engine, and I love written expression. It feels like a safer way for me to communicate as a lot of the time I can’t articulate my thoughts into sentences fast enough. I used to avoid saying what was on my mind but blogging has taught me to better express myself.
This week is one of the busiest so far this year and is the polar opposite of how my life was a year ago. Tonight I’m playing offstage harp for Opera North’s Tosca in Leeds, so I leave at 4pm, play around 2 minutes worth of music and I get home just before 10. It seems crazy that that minute moment of music involves so much time and effort. Tomorrow is a lunchtime chamber music recital at St Paul’s at Huddersfield University followed by a Q&A session around being an orchestral musician, chamber musician and freelancer. It will be an interesting challenge to push myself out of my comfort zone. I’m not a natural public speaker (see above) and I’ve even volunteered to introduce our last piece, Pastorales de Noël by Jolivet. Then I can come home and be ill for an hour as I’ve got a cold, and we get into preparation for Friday, which is the really big one this week - playing the pit part in Tosca.
Debut
In the pit this Friday night
As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve always wanted to play Tosca and I set an intention not so long ago to do that. Here we are, the moment has finally come. Saturday and Sunday I get to cover Merry Widow by Lehár, that’s less stressful as I did it when I was in Cape Town and had a decent amount of rehearsal on it. I was hoping for a quiet day off Monday but I might have a rehearsal now. That’s as far as I can go in my head without it imploding.
Warming up
Enjoying a few precious moments with my harp before the shoot
It’s great to be busy. If I could change one thing, it would be the amount of practice time - I would like to quadruple that! My phone stopwatch is ticking and I need to add photos and edit this. I’ve also vowed not to revisit this post and tweak it - my next challenge is learning to let go.
Intention
It's a funny old thing intention, as I'm discovering. At the end of last year, when I was starting to face some major changes I needed to make in my life, I set a few intentions out of curiosity, just as an experiment. I was mildly cynical but willing to give anything a go. At the time I was receiving some coaching around my business which blurred into my personal life too as I realised I had quite a few matters to address across the board. The coaching helped immensely and my life started to take a more positive direction as I felt my empowerment surge upwards. One of the intentions I set myself was to perform Tosca once in my life. I was listening to a lot of music at the time which comforted and reassured me and helped with the deep sense of loneliness I felt. I listened to a lot of Puccini, one of my favourite composers. His harp parts are refined and carefully crafted with such intricate detail and he always writes beautifully for my instrument. His music is a joy to study and any opportunity to plunge my fingers into his generous fistfuls of notes is a delight. Puccini's score is vibrant with passion. In it, he explores a full spectrum of emotions, the colours of which are exposed in his exquisite writing. The pacing of Tosca, both musically and theatrically, guarantees a great night's entertainment for audience and performers alike.
Powerful imagery
Those dark eyes from the Opera North brochure
I've been invited to play in the offstage band for a season of performances of Tosca with Opera North starting this month. I've played this role before, about ten years ago. It's a sweet simple Gavotte for flute, viola and harp which comes at the beginning of Act 2, soon after the soberingly spiritual Te Deum which closes Act 1. It's a lovely moment that vanishes like the twinkling of a star. In so many ways it's a great gig as there's no need to tune my entire harp, which I do anyway because of the resonance, and I don't need to put my orchestral blacks on. I don't even need to wear make up as I'll be invisible to the audience. In theory, when you play in the pit, you're invisible too but I always feel there's something missing unless I've got a slick of lipstick or some eyeshadow to bolster my confidence. After a minute or so playing, I pack up quietly and leave. I always felt musically deprived and hungry for more when making my exit from the backstage area to those delicious sounds that continued without me. An unfamiliar Puccini heroine, I'm looking forward to getting to know Tosca intimately.
You can imagine my bemusement at realising that I'm about to fulfil one of the intentions I set myself at the end of 2017, and far sooner than I imagined. I've been invited to perform the pit part for two performances of Tosca in Hull in November. Hmmm. Interesting. I'm seeing there's a lot to be said for intention. I'd better go and wash my dishes. I've given myself this morning off before continuing to cram - my first rehearsal has been moved forward to tomorrow. Six hours of Puccini on a Monday. What a great start to the week!
A More Solemn Note
Thursday was a busy day. I had two jobs on, a funeral reception at noon and La Bohème in the evening. It was one of the hottest days of an exceptionally hot summer. With a to do list the length of my leg, I got myself into a bit of a state the night before. On Tuesday I heard of the cruelly untimely death of a lovely colleague who was only in her thirties, a car incident. My head won't quite deal with it, it's too close to home. I keep seeing her beautiful face and laughing eyes. A true professional and a brightly quirky ray of sunshine, she had recently met a man and she seemed very happy. It has tainted my week and beyond with an unshakeable sorrow. I was meant to be working with her the week after next.
Dread full sight
Will it take 24 minutes or 24 hours?
I am often told I leave ridiculously early for work. Setting off at 7.30 to make a journey that should take an hour and forty, I was optimistic that I'd arrive at my coastal destination and maybe even have time for a stroll on the beach and a toe dip in the sea before starting to play at midday. It was the day the lorry crashed into the bridge on the M6. I arrived at the hotel a hot bothered heap just after 1, my record of over thirty years of never being late for work tarnished by a motorway. The M6 and M62 are at the top of my list of least favourite motorways (I don't think I have a favourite, not in this country anyway), and in 2010 I pranged my car on the latter on my way to Leeds for the opening night of La Bohème. Maybe there's something about me and Puccini operas. I still got there with time to spare though.
I wish I'd had time to take in the simple elegant beauty of the art deco hotel where the funeral reception was being held. I had been a prisoner of the unnatural air-conned ambience of my hot cramped sardine tin car for the worst part of 6 hours. My relief was immense at the contrast between this and the cool dark interior of the lobby and the sea views presented in all their glory through the dizzyingly high glass walls. The pure candour of potent lilies placed on plinths was refreshing. There was a giddy feel of the Great Gatsby about everything.
Death has been an underlying theme this week. It's something we avoid thinking about and it can become a preoccupation. Take La Bohème, the opera I've been working on. It whisks you through a whirlwind of emotions that change from exuberant joy to tragedy in an instant and of course, Mimi dies at the end. One of the most popular operas of all time, it's clear that its theme and characters are relevant and resonate with most people. Bohème always brings up thoughts of my Dad and his premature death when I was 27. A loyal member of the town choir in his retirement and with a love and passion for music to rival my own, he would have been blown away by Puccini. How many conversations I've wished to have with him, and how our relationship would have grown with our mutual maturity. There is regret but that's just how it is. In the brief time I spent at the funeral do on Thursday, I heard the popping of corks and saw people enjoying their canapés, the expression in their eyes covert, mysteriously shaded by their sunglasses. There isn't just sorrow at a funeral, thankfully it's a celebration of a person's life and how much richness they brought to ours. The nostalgia was tangible.
Coin toss
The clock was ticking - where was I?
It's nearly my birthday and nowadays they're more a time for reflection as well as looking forward. As I review my year and think back to where I was twelve months ago, five, ten, twenty years ago, I think and feel it's ok to be where I am now. I often feel I'm in a limbo state, neither here nor there, and learning to live with that is where my challenge lies. Like driving, there's a feeling of urgency about getting somewhere instead of just saying what the **** and embracing the crap, and recognising the magic moments. Sometimes I can't see them unless they grab me firmly and smack me in the face. Take the funeral for example. All I could see on Thursday was the disappointment at letting people down and the stress of such a horrendous journey. Now, with a step back, a day off and some breathing space, I remember the staff who were calmly efficient and helpful, and the daughter of the deceased who was sympathetic and understanding and gave me a hug when I arrived with my flustered apologies while my harp was roasting away in the car. Then there's the lady who complimented me on my crazy trousers and another lady who thanked me for my music. An extra special mention goes to the hotel guest who offered to help me move my harp and gave me a hug after we had both tried to work out an alternative route to the alternative route that lay snaking menacingly ahead of me.
A major magic moment turned out to be the route I eventually took through the Forest of Bowland, a damn finer sight than the miserable offerings of that unmentionable motorway. After driving like I haven't for about ten years, I allowed my focus to shift to the breathtaking goosebump views that awaited after the long zig-zag climb up steep swirling B-roads in my heavily laden car. Driving through quaint deserted picture book villages with their immaculate askew architecture and lifestyle magazine cottage gardens made me vow to return for a day trip on a road less travelled. I apologised for disturbing the peace as I slowed through the village.
Unforeseen events like this also bring the worst out in people. Take the man in the red prestige car who decided it was a good idea to drive within touching distance of mine as we went winding our way along the canopied backroads on the scenic route. At a safe convenient moment I decelerated and indicated for him to pass. He honked angrily at me as he zoomed past in his hurry to get to his destination. I admit to a certain smugness while driving a safe distance behind him as I caught up to the slow moving queue we had now both joined which continued for the next 10 miles. Who knows? Maybe he was rushing to hospital? He certainly risked lives and limbs. I saw him negotiate a junction by crossing in front of another moving car with milliseconds to spare. From this point, having shouted and sobbed myself almost hoarse, I felt a sense of acceptance fall over me. I had phoned the opera fixer and discussed possible options and I was doing everything within my means to get there safely in time. I stopped looking at the clock and the Satnav timer. Even if I just made it for the second half, I was determined I'd get there. I did. With 23 minutes to spare. I tuned, got changed, put on some lipstick, got harp 2 out of the hot car to the cooler backstage area and blocked everything out as I got on with Puccini. Thank god for music!
HQ
Sight of relief
Clonter Opera
Clonter
Rose Garden
I'm enjoying a fantastic busy fortnight working at Clonter Opera in deepest darkest sunniest Cheshire. I remember hearing the name Clonter with some fascination as an undergraduate student at the RNCM and I do have a strong sense of déjà-vu, although my memory won't stretch quite that far back. Hailed by some as the Glyndebourne of the North, Clonter is a fantastic endeavour for singers seeking to gain experience of some of the core operatic repertoire and it boasts strong links with the RNCM. If it wasn't for the signage you would be forgiven for mistaking Clonter for just another Cheshire dairy farm. My drive to work past droves of cows lolling along their well-hooved path from pasture to parlour with bovine discipline is proof of the terrain. In effect, it is an opera theatre in a barn. How cool is that? You can find out more about Clonter's fascinating creator Jeffery Lockett and his brainchild by copying this into your browser: https://www.clonter.org/about-clonter/jeffery-lockett/
Workplace welcome
The tree lined driveway and its neighbouring maize fields. Not a parking meter in sight
I arrived bright and early last Saturday morning and had a quick car catnap in the quietest car park you could ever imagine before polishing off my breakfast, having been warmly greeted by Chief Executive Isabella and her faithful companion Cedar the spaniel who, in her tenth year, seems to be something of a Clonter legend. Isabella is a legend in her own right of course. One of three Lockett daughters, she ensures the smooth running of the Clonter Farm Music Trust along with her siblings. I unloaded my harp after being shown the best route into the pit (what, no lift?!) and was helped by another stalwart Clonter personage who goes more than the extra mile to ease all things backstage, the lovely Mel. A natural multitasker, she assumes her role as Production Manager and Stage Manager with the greatest of ease, and I remember her from my more recent RNCM postgrad days. As my colleagues arrived, I felt reassured to see some familiar faces and the new ones proved very friendly - there's a genuine sense of camaraderie in the pit.
With three consecutive six hour rehearsal days kicking off at 10am, and to break down the driving, I stayed over one night at one of the nicest most peaceful hotels I've ever experienced! I slept like one of the trunks outside my window. Everything about Cheshire screams bucolic idyll.
Room with a view
over woodland and a stream
In keeping with my healthy eating plan, I took my own food most days but on Sunday night, I enjoyed the luxury of a naughty chocolatey indulgence. I'm sure I play better when I've had my cocoa fix:
Sunday
Naughtily virtuous supper treat, it was really good and luckily still fresh
I've played in quite a few productions of La Bohème and this is an interesting experience in that it's the chamber version scored for just thirteen lucky players. Unsure what to expect, I wasn't disappointed - the luscious plenitude and delicate intimacy of Puccini's delicious timeless score remains the feast it was the first time I savoured it some twenty years ago.
Vibrato!
First page of my well thumbed beloved Bohème part
I'm one of the luckiest - some of my colleagues have never played Bohème before and devoid of a bigger section of the same instrument playing the same part, I marvel at their skill in managing the negotiation of such a difficult score overflowing with vertiginously tricky corners that just has to be known by heart. How would you explain the broad spacious freedom that is key to Puccini's music? Performing with guts, gusto and increasing swagger, the band sounds impressive in spite of, or possibly due to its reduced forces. It feels great to be unofficially part of a section and I'm perched next to the cello with bass behind just to my left and violins directly in front, and the woodwinds and percussion are facing us on the opposite side for a change. It works. I'm so used to hearing the winds that it's great to hear the string parts with such clarity. That's one of the best things about a lengthier project like this. We've already had 18 hours rehearsal and both dress rehearsal and opening night are now behind us. It's been way too long since I relished the indulgence of a long sequence of rehearsals - every time I get into that pit I hear something new as I start to feel more relaxed about my part in the whole process. I love that, when I get to that stage where I feel so comfortable with it. I'm not quite there yet and I will always have a bit of practice to do to deepen my knowledge of and refamiliarise myself with a part that is so well written that it falls easily and comfortably under the feet and fingers. It's like meeting up with an intimate old friend again after quite a few years. I'm probably the oldest one in the pit except our seasoned conductor, Clive. He has over forty performances of Bohème under his belt and thus a very clear idea of what he wants. In guiding the full voiced exceptionally talented budding cast past the pitfalls of what can be a treacherous piece, he can be a hard task master in what is clearly a beloved work. He certainly kept us on our toes in rehearsal!
Intimate
Great to be beside the woodburning stove again
I do have a very soft spot for opera and one of the things I enjoy most is walking in through the backstage area past an enviable array of intriguing props and equipment. Cue Mel and her team. The oysters look toxically tasty and there will be snow in July. As for the beverages, I'm not giving anything away. Designer Grace Venning has conceived an imaginative atmospheric sepia hued traditional set and costumes and there's an intoxicating Frenchness about the entire production that leaves me with a feeling of peering into the shared accommodation of impoverished students in the gods of Parisian gables with their sublime voices and warm hearts as their only riches. The set transforms miraculously into the breezy atmosphere of Café Momus for Act 2. Jiggling old school light bulbs suspended from what look like a very basic piñata dangling from the ceiling remind me of the importance of lighting and I'm amazed at what can be achieved on what must be a shoestring budget by operatic standards with the clever creative skill of continental lighting designer Petr Vocka. It's difficult to tear my eyes from the stage which I can see very clearly, and that brings me to the other reason I love Puccini operas - I rarely put my harp down. He uses the harp with such variety of colour and precision that it's always a privilege to be offered a chance to perform in any of his masterpieces. Thanks to the genius of Puccini's "verismo", there shouldn't be a dry eye in the house.
At Clonter, the ambience is easily intimate and there's a convivial family feel to everything, from the homely meals offered on rehearsal days featuring the most amazing sausage roll I ever tasted to the mouth watering cakes I managed to resist until Wednesday night. It was the dress rehearsal and we were all warmly invited to supper afterwards. I had some delicious potatoes and a cheeky slice of baguette, not a continental prop I hasten to add. And I succumbed to the heavenly fruity meringue, but not the freely flowing wine, which I was told was excellent. Despite elegantly taking my leave Cinderella style to face my long drive home, it was really good to go and get to know my pit, onstage and offstage colleagues a bit better and find out more about this amazing place.
Gateway
to pool nirvana
Oh, and I did it, my long awaited pool dive. I managed to contain my exuberant enthusiasm until day two when we had a longer lunch break. It didn't disappoint. I tried to enthuse a couple of my colleagues who were quite rightly curious about the moves I'd learnt in my Aquafit classes, but I don't think I'll be giving up my day job...
Siegfried - just a quickie!
Sparks flew this evening at the end of Act 1 as Nothung (Siegfried's sword) was forged - that's the bit when we play. After an hour and a quarter of uninterrupted music. There's something about sitting there almost invisibly that brings out some sort of ultra sweary kicking screaming Tourettes in me at the very beginning, I guess it's just the idea of the length of time. It passes quickly as I get into the music. So does almost everything else. I really loved the performance - the heavy stomping of the giants' music, and I thought the musical pacing at the end of the Act was superb.
Today's other achievements:
Going to the shop for supplies on my way to the car after playing, walking through the booze section and not buying any. Getting Jersey Royals as a special treat instead. (Who am I? I don't recognise myself..!)
Being in touch with my physical urge for movement when I got in and indulging in a 45 minute Pilates session in my attic haven (heaven?)
It's been just great to have a busy harp week - music is one of my favourite means of anaesthetising. I'm tired and I need a day off and if I can get through my Monday morning rehearsal, I can chill out a bit. I'm feeling a bit emotional about tomorrow night, it's a big one for me with Brünnhilde's sumptuous thawing out music. Aroused by her brother (no comment) Siegfried's kiss, she disencrusts herself from her heroic slumber accompanied by our skyward arabesques. I hear the twinkling of her eyelids and there's an intense power in six harps playing together oh so quietly.
Final achievement - getting to bed before midnight again.
Powerful words from meditation today
Saturday - Siegfried Acts 1 & 2
This morning began by unveiling my mobile from its grainy bed for the night. On my drive down to Manchester yesterday a sheep accompanied by its only-slightly wiser friend decided to cross the road in front of my swiftly moving car and it was just a couple of seconds away from an unthinkable fate. In the process of braking to dodge it whilst only too aware of the vehicle very close to my rear, I spilt some of my freshly brewed coffee. The sheep lived to safely graze another day. It was a while after my white knuckle experience before I realised the coffee had spilt on my phone. Everything works except I have to put it on speaker to take or make calls. With my lack of technical aptitude, I'm praying I won't need to get a new one. The thought of syncing and downloading new apps makes me want to cry. In phoning myself I also had the heart sinking realisation my answer machine doesn't work. Ha!
Yesterday was a 3 hour patching session for the live recording demanding silence, focus and nerves of steel. I've become so well acquainted with my nearby microphone on its steely spindly stand due to its presence all week that I don't notice it anymore, and as we began the intense takes I realised we hadn't actually rehearsed it to death. With the heightened atmosphere I dropped out of 2 small sections - sometimes it's wiser to do this rather than f**k it up for everyone and I think this is one of the reasons Wagner demanded 6 harps. Despite being a bit of a megalomaniac I'm sure he had a human side too. I can tell you which bits I'm going to practice first today! In the shrinking down process I remembered a technique that helped me play as one with my colleagues - to breathe together and visualise almost becoming them. Quite a lot of body language can help with this. It's a technique that has worked well for me in the past especially when the beat is organic and musical and stretchy and even more so when I was sitting in the back row, and when I do it well it can be really draining. I'm going to practice that this morning. As I was polishing off my sunny apricot in the break, a million miles away in my thoughts, someone asked how my week was going. I looked up to see it was Sir Mark. Caught unawares without a script, I annoyingly found myself coming out with the biggest pile of tripe followed by a succinct statement which I think conveyed exactly how my week is going! As an outsider it's interesting to see the close rapport and trust between orchestra and conductor. There is no dress rehearsal. I observed his manner with us all week and he certainly knows how to get me to want to do more than my best. He shows respect and empathy, and although he (incredibly, under the circumstances) only very occasionally gets impatient, it's all for the music. I wish I had his seemingly bionic ears! He quite rightly treats the singers like royalty cajoling them into taking risks with breathtaking results. His sensitivity and understanding make me wonder if he trained as a singer, or is he just outstandingly good at his job? It's pretty awe inspiring to work on this level.
I felt a weight lift off me as I saw the distant hills and I love going to work in hustling bustling Manchester and by the same token, I love getting back home to the tranquillity of my rural idyll. This tropical heat suits me fine and I was amused that it was 7-8 degrees cooler in Meltham. I planned my evening as I drove past beautiful rhododendron walls, abundant laburnum vines and the vibrant hot sunburst of flaming azaleas. I didn't see many souls at the top on the moors and the dandelion like cotton wool ball wild shrubs are back. I wanted to practice but was too tired so I opted for a cup of tea in my yard, phone crisis management, getting supper ready, a gentle walk round the block with YT (Llwyd), a bit of weeding, and regaining some order in my house. A rare occurrence - I was in bed before midnight.
Coffee flavoured rice anybody?
"Siegfried!"
"Richard Wagner composed his well known Ring Cycle in blah blah blah"... Some of you reading that opening sentence might think the Rhian you know and love has been abducted by aliens and replaced by some fake harpist. I am in no way an authority on the Ring but I'm becoming an authority on me and what makes me tick and I like writing about my experience, and hopefully it's a good enough read for musicians and non-musicians alike. My use of language in that sentence isn't florid enough either!
Yesterday was my first day of rehearsal for Siegfried. Excluding time spent travelling , hanging around and eating I worked out I was sitting for over 8 hours yesterday. I felt like the princess and the pea as I tried in vain to customise my not-quite-high-enough chair with harp covers and clothing. Still better than a backless music bench. Today my lower back is a bit painful (shoulders surprisingly ok though) and I was ecstatic when I managed to book myself into Aquafit last night when I got in after my long day. I can't wait to jump into the chilly water and bounce around like a lunatic, and I get excited as I walk to the pool and smell the irresistible chemical chlorine wafts. To whoever cancelled - thank you!
It was a long day on slightly too little sleep - I had to get ALL my ironing done on Monday night, not just what I needed, and sort my food for the next few days. I set off 45 minutes later than the time I'd set myself - I'd left 3.5 hours for a journey that takes an hour on a good day but seeing as I needed to pack what seemed like most of the contents of my home into my car after I'd completed my morning routine, it was just enough time not to be rushing. After I deposited my harp in the hall and worked out yet another online parking system, I had to move my harp again as the sectional was taking place upstairs. I still had enough time. After all that mental psych-up it was the lovely knowledgeable and helpful Jonathan taking the rehearsal and it was a great way to ease into this project, and it was a much appreciated gesture when Sir Mark popped in briefly to greet his section. After we had put the Wagner harp world to rights, off we trundled with our precious convoy down into the main hall. We are in a lovely position right at the back and though it feels far away from the conductor, it's an ideal vantage point, towering above the orchestra (in my mind) alongside both sets of timpani and behind our buddies the horns. There's a lot of those too - Wagner certainly wasn't a minimalist. Despite the serious nature of rehearsals, it's a relief to break the often intense atmosphere with a dash of humour, and you can guarantee innocently complicit eye contact with at least one of those cheeky horn players as the conductor instructs us to start at everyone's favourite number... Then lunch. It was a beautiful day and following a colleague's suggestion I headed for the canal where I found a black metal bench to eat my picnic. Then time for a coffee in my own travel mug which always garners compliments (it's bright pink of course). We started Act 3 and assumed our positions for the next few days. The familiarity of Wagner's sound world in the menacingly creeping and exciting opening bars was comforting as it built to its first thundering climax within the first 3 minutes, and I was more often than not distracted from my to-do list by the amazing auditory feast laid out before my ears. Wagner just seems to be able to paint the world in his music if that makes sense. Those music-gasms started again as I heard some quietly spectacular playing that just drew my ear in and I didn't want it to stop. Those swathes and washes of divine sound. I'm relieved I still have that passion for orchestral playing!
My thoughts drifted to my last experience of Siegfried and I had flashbacks of how it was in Leeds Town Hall. If I'm honest it wasn't the best experience for me, mainly due to the position of the harps. We were on the opposite side of our usual position within the orchestra and stuck right at the back, so it almost felt like we were separate from the rest of the orchestra. It was like playing blindfolded with earplugs. No wonder my nerves were frayed after 3 months. I felt I couldn't trust what my senses were telling me. Add to that the fact I was on the back row of harps tucked away in the furthest corner (there is a particular name for this position in the music world) and you can imagine my frame of mind and maybe understand why it put me off orchestral playing a bit. No matter what solution we suggested or tried (monitors, plinths...), we were never going to come up trumps in that venue.
So it's a breath of fresh air to revisit this fabulous piece again and yesterday felt like a healing experience as I felt my confidence grow as I started to play like I play. Brünnhilde (Brown Hilda or Hilda Brown, either way it doesn't translate well in my mind, and YES, I know it means armoured battle maiden) is amazing! Like many a Brünnhilde, she's blonde and petite and has quite a pair lungs on her - wow! As is often the case when I'm working, I'd like to be on the other side of the conductor so I could fully experience the impact of her voice but it's something special, I know that. As for Sir Mark and the orchestra, I just love the generous spaciousness he gives the music and the loving attention with which he caresses each line and phrase. It feels very organic and as he is healthily meticulous about every detail, it's a satisfyingly joyous challenge to work with him. I wish I had his ears. In the section we are an interesting mix of 4 blondes and 2 redheads - I'm just talking about the colour of our harps there by the way! Possible token harp section photo coming soon...! It's a lovely section with a good energy.
With the drowsiness that came at the end of what was our second rehearsal of three, I decided to go for a stroll along the canal (see below). That's one of the things I love about Manchester - you're never a million miles away from water or some greenery and wildlife if you take a minute to look. I went back to the empty changing room and nabbed the cosiest armchair, put on my sunglasses and went elsewhere for 10 minutes. That's all it takes and I'm quite proud I've mastered the art of the power nap in a relatively public place.
Today will be a quiet day practicing, resting and preparing for what I think will be a spectacular performance this weekend... Get your tickets now!
In the heart of Manchester - my momentary companions on my canal stroll
My heart sank for an instant when I got back to my car. When I checked, I'd put the make of my vehicle where I should have put the registration... How many Mazda sixes could there have been on that street yesterday anyway?!?
Puccini
My passion for opera was ignited when I was 17 and I saw my first opera, The Love for Three Oranges by Prokofiev. I was blown away! When I was in my third year as an undergraduate at the RNCM I was fortunate enough to be invited to perform Madama Butterfly. I just loved being in the pit, and being part of the excitement of all the musical and theatrical elements around me. This was over 25 years ago and I don't think I truly got it.
My first professional job was with the Cape Town Philharmonic, an orchestra that performed symphonic, ballet and operatic repertoire (more about that in a future post). Imagine my delight when Madama Butterfly came up! And with an Italian conductor! Again, I don't think I got it - I was going through a phase where I was quite rigid musically, and Puccini demands so much flexibility, a real feel for every note and the space between the notes, and very specific sound qualities.
I had another stroke of luck in 2012 when I was invited to perform Butterfly again, this time with Opera North, and I like to think this time I got it! Everything seemed to fall into place and I really felt I knew where each note belonged and its significance. Puccini always writes the most amazing harp parts and I have enjoyed each of his operas that I have learnt. My all time favourites are Butterfly of course, and La Boheme, and I often shed a tear in the pit! They're not easy but they just work and fall into the fingers, and are a joy to relearn - there's always a new detail to discover and a different way to interpret a phrase or a new fingering to try.
I will be performing Butterfly again with Opera North on the 28th January. If you haven't seen a Puccini opera, go along and experience it for yourselves - and remember to take your tissues!
In the pit before the dress rehearsal. "America Forever" (it's one of Pinkerton's lines in Act 1) Photograph by Michael Ardron