I am attending the 52nd national convention of NATS- the National Association of Teachers of Singing- in Orlando, FL, and while these gatherings feature at least some dry-as-dust presentations, there are also those moments that offer up nothing less than thrills and chills. This convention featured a big thrill right up front after the opening ceremony, with a master class led by a powerhouse opera star by the name of Jane Eaglen. She has pretty much retired from singing and devoting all of her time and energy to teaching, but in her day she was one of the best in the world at singing the operas of Wagner – and those are the long operas that tend to feature a stoutly-built woman wearing a horned helmet, brandishing a spear, and emitting high notes that could stop a locomotive in its tracks. But beyond that, these operas are complex and emotionally layered, and you want the main roles sung by someone who’s more than a screamer, but someone who is also an artist. I got to see Jane Eaglen at the Lyric Opera of Chicago in two such roles- Brunnhilde and Isolde- and have otherwise enjoyed her work through compact disks and a couple of DVD’s, marveling both at her wonderful voice as well as her expressiveness.
Kathy and I just happened to be in front of our hotel, awaiting the shuttle to Sea World, when a limo pulled up and Jane Eaglen herself emerged. It took ALL that was in me to keep from running up to her and jabbering about how much I loved her singing. But she looked a little tired and I decided to let her just be a regular person in that moment— and I’m glad that I did, because after her master class I actually managed to bump into her and say a few admiring words under much better circumstances.
Master classes are so tricky. You are thrown together with several singers you’ve never met or heard sing before, and right on the spot you have to be able to offer up some insightful observations as well as beneficial tips on what they might do to be even better. And at something like this it’s especially tricky because no one is going to sing badly- so you don’t get to deal with egregious errors like “do you realize you’re singing a half-step flat for that entire phrase?” No, this is a setting where the master class is polishing what is already very accomplished singing, and in front of an audience consisting of hundreds of other voice teachers. I would be scared out of my shoes if it were me up there- and I was frankly a little fearful for Jane Eaglen, since she has not been a full time voice instructor all that long and I suspect she has done relatively few master classes before this. Sure, she herself was a master singer – but would she prove to be a master teacher?
I need not have worried. She handled the situation about as graciously as I’ve ever seen a big star in this kind of setting, speaking kindly and in the most encouraging sort of tones, and leavening almost everything she said with delicious and self-deprecating humor. And unlike some big name singers, she didn’t punctuate every other phrase with “when I sang Brunnhilde at La Scala. . .” or “that reminds me of a lovely compliment James Levine paid me after my Met debut.” You would scarcely have known from what she said in this 90 minute master class that she had ever been one of the most famous singers in the world. And as fun as it is to hear some of those delicious stories from an exciting career, a master class must first and foremost be about the young singer and helping them- and not for one moment did Jane Eaglen stray from that essential mission.
A couple of highlights. . . At one point when a young mezzo was singing a Russian song by Tchaikovksy, J.E. asked her to be a little less fussy with a couple of words, since the consonants were breaking up the legato of the line. She then said, and she said we could quote her on this, so I will, “there’s a time and a place for the words.” She went on to explain that for as important as the text is when we sing, there are actually plenty of times when it is the beauty of the sound and the flow of the line which is by far most important, and you risk forgetting that if you get too caught up in dotting every “i” and crossing every “t” of the words with perfect precision. It was nice to hear her say that so forthrightly. And I agree with her 100 percent.
She talked a lot about breathing deeply and low – and of squeezing the old butt cheeks (I’m glad she wasn’t too self conscious about that) for support. And at one point in the discussion, she said “I’m not saying that every breath I ever took as a singer were like this . . . but all of the important ones were.” I think she was referring to the big money moments in the operas she sang when she had to pour out a molten stream of gorgeous and huge sound, and for those crucial moments she knew exactly what she had to do and what kind of breath she had to take.
At one point she was talking about how this kind of singing might feel complicated but in fact is relatively simple- a lot simpler than brain surgery, for instance. And then in a rather undramatic way, she said “and as one of the only people in this room who knows something about singing and who has had brain surgery, I can hereby confirm that brain surgery is much more complicated than singing.” Or words to that effect. And then in the next sentence, she said something about having had surgery for a brain tumor…. and I’m glad she said it a second time because I would have otherwise thought that I had been hearing things. I have no idea when this happened, but I wonder if it might have been fairly recently and that this might explain why her singing career ended as early as it did. (She’s my age, so by all rights she should still be singing.) But she scooted past the matter very quickly and was right back on track- but I think a lot of us in the room were a little shaken to hear this about her. It was a sobering reminder that sometimes a life and health issue that have nothing at all to do with singing per se can be a more unwelcome intruder.
Mostly, though, the master class was interesting and fun- like the moment when J.E. was helping a young singer with a coloratura showpiece called “O luce di quest’anima.” This is the kind of twittery piece that has nothing to do with the stentorian singing that Ms. Eaglen did in her famous Wagner roles, but she actually had plenty to say. And when it came to the matter of how to sing a proper trill at one point, J.E. jokingly referred to what coloratura superstar Joan Sutherland had said about the secret of a great trill – taking one of your legs and secretly shaking it underneath your gown! (If only it were that easy.)
As much as anything, Jane Eaglen is young enough (I LOVE talking about a 52-year-old person being young enough for something) to still vividly remember what it’s like to be a young singer still very much in their formative stage, still sorting things out, still coming to grips with their own gifts . . . and she seemed to fully appreciate the immense courage required of these four young singers to stand in front of a crowd of almost a thousand singers and voice teachers and sing for them. That sense of appreciation, sympathy and affection was evident in every moment of this master class, and it’s probably one of the most important reasons why each of those singers walked off of that stage singing a little bit bitter than when they first took the stage.
pictured above: Jane Eaglen (right) poses with the first of the four singers who performed at the master class. This young woman sang the act one aria from Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor.