Joy vs Anger

The picture connected to this article is from Opera McGill's 2011 production of Handel's Imeneo. It's one of my first productions where I felt I'd found my directorial voice, particularly for baroque opera.

Handel's operas especially need a director who not only directs text, but is adept at directing a ton of orchestral music as well as understanding the da capo formal structures of about two dozen arias (on average). I've seen way too many Handel operas fail onstage - no matter the great concept, cast, or design - because the director didn't deal with all those pesky introductions, playouts, and postludes. Often these parts of the arias are a good 1/3 of the length of the aria. I've also seen directors stumble with the return of the A section (where the singer and orchestra repeat the entire first section of the aria) by not addressing the motivations for the required ornamentation and cadenzas that are a part of the "A prime".

But that's not what I want to really write about, although it's connected to the theme here of "Joy vs Anger"; something akin to Motivations and Ornaments.

The above pic I could title "The Battle of Joy and Anger". The character on the left is blindfolded, he can't see his opponent. They are both armed with similar weapons - a staff for the blindfolded father, Argenio, and a spear for the warrior Imeneo. Who represents joy here? Anger?

The spear is pointed and knows its target. It's being held by a person who can see what they are aiming at. It's deadly if the user is skilled. Anger seems pointed, anger seems deadly, anger seems like it would be a good weapon when dealing with another person you might want to hurt. One could say Joy is blind and blunt, but that might not be entirely true either.

Anger can be a really blunt instrument and it is wielded blindly quite often. We talk of "Seeing red", "Blinded by Anger", "Blinded by Fear". Often, many don't know they're coming across as angry.

Joy, however, is seldom thought of something that can be - or should be - weaponized. This seems antithetical to the nature of joy.

I'd like to posit that joy is one of the best weapons to wield when dealing with angry people. It disarms them. It makes them uncomfortable. Often, it makes them more angry as it's a frustrating thing to come up against joy when one is angrily turned into a Karen because the minimum-wage worker forgot your extra pickles on your Wendy's crispy chicken sandwich.

Or when something in classical music doesn't happen the way you wanted it to happen. Casting, schedules, costumes, high notes, musical choices that you don't agree with, jealousy with other colleagues winning competitions. The list of things that can anger someone in classical music is as vast as the sands on our beaches.

And why the anger? Is it frustration with feeling out of control? Or frustration with the heirarchy that is in place in opera especially? Is it stress of how to navigate a career in the second quarter of the 21st century when all the rules and old notions of the career path have to be thrown out? Is it the ramifications of covid shutdowns where many people unlearned how to be polite? Is it the election of Trump and his Republican congressional majority? Is it economics and how a club sandwich, fries and coffee can cost you 20 bucks at a shitty chain restaurant?

I'm telling you there's a lot of anger out there. Noticeably more anger. The emails and texts and interactions I'm having recently (the last five years or so) are laced with an underlying, weaponized anger that is frankly hurtful. And I think in many cases, meant to be hurtful - like that spear.

In singing, anger is deadly. You can't sing from an angry place - well, I suppose you can. I'm certainly hearing more anger in voices than fear. Certainly hearing more lies and more fraudulent vocal sounds instead of the truth and authentic sounds I used to hear regularly. Now the latter is the exception to the former and I find this sad and, to be honest, a sign of decadence.

Decadence in the meaning of the root of that word: Decaying.

There's a decaying of manners, a decaying of empathy, a decaying of just how to be a decent human being to others.

It comes out in the singing, as does all truth. Tight tones, punching non-legato lines, non-musical phrases, hitting notes as if they are baseballs to be wacked into space, ignoring text and subtextual meanings in favor of brutalist words in isolation to their sentences.

The singing of operatic repertoire that I've been hearing in the last decade has taken a turn for the worst more recently. Gone are the singers who walk in and just share their joy.

Yeah - sharing joy. The joy in singing. In making music with a pianist in a room so people can share in the rapture, share in the literal sharing of something so intrinsically human - our voices. Sharing joy is now something I have to teach how to do. And it's a hard, tricky, difficult thing to do. I'm blind when I do it because I don't know who in the room is armed that day with a frustration or stress that is going to manifest as a pointed spear at me or a colleague or their other teachers or their peers.

But I have my blunt staff and a blindfold - like the ubiquitous statue of justice - and with my ADHD Jedi powers of reading a room, try my best to deflect the anger joyously in the hopes that that joy might just rub off.

This is done so so so so so so so much better in person than in email. My email tone is still read as too direct and too pointed. Often confrontational - I admit this. It's a hard habit to break, exchanging your sharp verbiage for a softer edge. Much like quitting alcohol, it's an exhange of one thing for another (in my case, Haagen Daz for scotch). Those who are my closest friends know I have a biting wit, I can rip apart many topics or issues, I love to win arguments, and I can't abide non-critical thinkers. However, they also know I'm not a monster. Quite the opposite.

But trying to turn the tide of anger with joy - in music making or in administrating or in teaching - is something that is a long-term, eyes-on-the-prize activity. I applaud those I've known who embodied this sense of joy at all times. Timothy Hoekman comes to mind (simply the most joyous coach/pianist the world has ever seen), as does Michael Ching (best boss ever), as does my colleague Stephen Hargreaves (as Tina Turner sings "simply the best!", as does my first piano teacher Berneil Hanson, as do so many of my greatest teachers. They were much more joyous than informative about what was correct, so I learned to make music from that joyous space rather from a place of fear of being wrong.

The recent NOA (National Opera Association) conference that I attended in Savannah is a case in point. Hundreds and hundreds of JOYOUS people there all celebrating the teaching of singing, music, opera, and musical theatre. So much joy from all corners of North America! And these are not the powerful folk in the world. They are teachers who share a passion for music and for passing that passion forwards onto their students. The many students I heard perform in the scenes competitions and the voice competition sang from such a great place of joy (particularly the 1st place winners of the scenes competitions performing excerpts from "Treemonisha", "The Color Purple", and "The Merry Widow"!) It - their singing and their just being wonderful people in elevators - was infectious. Frankly, their joy while performing separated the winners from those not chosen. The leadership of the NOA is so different than other organizations I've been a part of - truly happy people who want others to be fulfilled and happy.

So if you're out there reading this and feeling stressed or frustrated, turn those feelings around in your brain and wonder if perhaps it's actually anger you're feeling. Then investigate why you might be angry and look at those triggers. Are these things you can change or control? If so, how best to change them? I'll give you a hint - demanding change from a place of anger won't make that change feel better. Anger leaves traces. Anger leaves a taste in the mouth. It's a bitter pill.

But turning those triggers into joyous ones is also tricky. You might not feel you're being heard, of being effective, or making anything change for the better. Please know that if you're trying to change a situation with joy this may take time. It's the long game of healthy choices as opposed to the short game of shooting up heroin (not that'd I'd know!) Change might happen after you leave the situation. Change might not happen at all.

But you'll be changed.

For the better. (Sorry, couldn't help that reference!)

And your music-making with others will change. How you maneuver through rehearsals with others will change. How you react to a last-minute change (and these are inevitable) will be altered. You might not see it right away, but the change will happen. Your singing will also change. Things will loosen up, the throat will be less tense, breathing will open up and you'll have more air for long phrases, tuning will improve, you'll stop listening to yourself and trust your physical apparatus, your brain will be in a better homeostasis and so your instinctual abilities will become stronger, you'll have easier access to emotions, your gestures will be more natural, you'll be more aware of others around you, you'll collaborate more easily, your tone will have more color and be more beautiful.

Yes, truly. This is the secret. All the technique in the world, all the pursuit of the right teacher or coach, all the auditions in the world won't bring about a sense of accomplishment without an ability to sing with joy and from a joyous space that is you.

I wrote this article instead of responding to an angry email. It was a good reminder for me that my blunt staff is easily sharpened. My blindfold is easily removed.

Thanks to our dog Severus for reminding me how great it is to take a car ride to the train station at 6:45am!