Chapter 9

On the subject of individuality in interpretation, Mr. Johnson was convincing. "I feel that if I have worked out a characterization, I must stick to my idea, in spite of what others say. It is my own conception, and I must either stand or fall by it. At times I have tried to follow the suggestions of this or that critic and have changed my interpretation to suit their taste. But it always rendered me self conscious, made my work unnatural and caused me speedily to return to my own conception.

LEARNING BY DOING

"The singer finds the stage a great teacher. Before the footlights he has constant opportunity to try out this or that effect, to note which placement of the voice best fits the tones he wishes to produce. Then, too, he soon learns to feel whether he has made the impression he had hoped, whether he has the audience with him. If he cannot win the audience, he takes careful thought to see why. In order to win his hearers, to get his work across the footlights, there are certain things he must have, virtues he must possess. For instance,"--and the artist counted them off on his finger tips,--"he must have Accent, Diction, Characterization, and above all, Sincerity. No matter what other good qualities he may possess, he must be sincere before anything else. If he lack this the audience soon finds it out. There's nothing that wins its way like the grace of sincerity. You see I give prominent place to accent and diction. Whatever fault the critics found with me, they have always conceded to me both these virtues.

"But time passes and soon the work of the night will begin. I trust that our informal conference may contain a few points of personal experience which may be helpful to those who are striving to enter the field of opera." And with his pleasant smile and genial greeting, Mr. Johnson closed the conference.

XVIII

=REINALD WERRENRATH=

ACHIEVING SUCCESS ON THE CONCERT STAGE

At the close of a recital by Reinald Werrenrath, the listener feels he has something to carry away, a tangible impression, a real message. What is the impression--can it be defined? Perhaps it is more the complete effect as a whole that makes the deepest impression. The voice is always agreeable, the diction so clear and distinct that every syllable can be followed from the topmost corner of Carnegie Hall, so there is no need to print a program book for this singer. Different qualities of voice render the picture or mood more vivid, and all is accomplished with perfect ease, in itself a charm. People settle in their seats as if certain that a song recital by Werrenrath is sure to bring enjoyment and satisfaction.

And Mr. Werrenrath has proven, through season after season of concert giving in America, that he is filling his own special niche in the scheme of the country's musical life; that he has his own message of the beautiful--the natural--in vocal art to deliver to the people all over the land, and he is accomplishing this with ever increasing ability and success.

To go through a season filled with concert tours, such as a popular singer has laid out for him, means so many weeks and months of strenuous toil and travel. There may be a few brief hours or days here and there, when he can be at home among family and friends; but soon he is off again--"on the road."

Mr. Werrenrath is the sort of singer who is generally on the wing, or if not exactly that, is so rushed with work, record making and rehearsing for occasional opera appearances, that it is very difficult to get a word with him. I was exceedingly fortunate however, one day recently, to catch a glimpse of him between a Metropolitan rehearsal on the one hand, and some concert business on the other. He entered the room where I waited, tall, vigorous, his fine face lighted by a rapid walk in the fresh air; he seemed the embodiment of mental vigor and alertness.

VOCAL CONTROL

I plunged at once into the subject I had come for, telling him I wanted to know how he had worked to bring about such results as were noted in his recent recital in Carnegie Hall; in what way he had studied, and what, in his opinion, were the most important factors, from an educational point of view, for the young singer to consider.

"That is entirely too difficult a question to be answered briefly, even in a half hour, or in an hour's talk. There are too many angles;" his clear gray eyes looked at me frankly as he spoke. "Voice culture, voice mastery, what is it? It is having control of your instrument to such an extent that you put it out of your thought completely when you sing. The voice is your servant and must do your bidding. This control is arrived at through a variety of means, and can be considered from a thousand angles, any one of which would be interesting to follow up. I have been on the concert stage for nearly a score of years, and ought to know whereof I speak; yet I can say I have not learned it all even now, not by any means. Vocal technic is something on which you are always working, something which is never completed, something which is constantly improving with your mental growth and experience--if you are working along the right lines. People talk of finishing their vocal technic; how can that ever be done? You are always learning how to do better. If you don't make the effect you expected to, in a certain place, when singing in public, you take thought of it afterward, consider what was the matter, _why_ you couldn't put it over--why it had no effect on the audience. Then you work on it, learn how to correct and improve it.

EARLY EXPERIENCES

"As you may know, my father was a great singer; he was my first teacher. After I lost him I studied for several years with Dr. Carl Duft and later with Arthur Mees. In all this time I had learned a great deal about music from the intellectual and emotional sides, music in the abstract and so on. In fact, I thought I knew about all there was to be learned about the art of song; I settled back on my oars and let the matter go at that. At last, however, I awoke to see that I didn't know it all yet; I discovered I couldn't put the feeling and emotion which surged within me across to others in the way I wanted to--in the way which could move and impress them; I could not make the effects I wanted; I was getting into a rut. This was seven years ago. At that time I went to Percy Rector Stevens, who has done me an immense amount of good, and with whom I constantly keep in touch, in case there should be anything wrong with my instrument anywhere. Mr. Stevens understands the mechanics of the voice perhaps better than any one I know of. If I go to him and say: 'I made some tones last night that didn't sound right to me,' or 'I couldn't seem to put over this or that effect; I want you to tell me what is the matter.' He will say: 'Sing for me, show me the trouble and we'll see what we can do for it.' So I sing and he will say: 'You are tightening your throat at that place,' or 'your diaphragm is not working properly,' or there is some other defect. He can always put his finger directly on the weak spot. He is my vocal doctor. Your whole vocal apparatus must work together in entire harmony. We hear of teachers who seem to specialize on some one part of the anatomy to the exclusion of other parts. They are so particular about the diaphragm, for instance; that must be held with exactly the right firmness to support the tone. That is all very well; but what about the chest, the larynx, the throat, the head and all the rest of the anatomy? The truth is the whole trunk and head of the body are concerned in the act of tone production; they form the complete instrument, so to say. When the singer is well and strong and in good condition, all the parts respond and do their work easily and efficiently.

DAILY PRACTICE

"I do not go through a routine of scales and exercises daily--at least not in the season, for I have no time. If you are going to take your automobile out for a spin you don't ride it around for half an hour in the yard to see whether it will go. No, you first look after the machinery, to see if all is in working order, and then you start out, knowing it will go. I do a lot of gymnastics each day, to exercise the voice and limber up the anatomy. These act as a massage for the voice; they are in the nature of humming, mingled with grunts, calls, exclamations, shouts, and many kinds of sounds--indeed so many and various they cannot be enumerated. But they put the voice in condition, so there is no need for all these other exercises which most singers find so essential to their vocal well-being. I will say right here that I am working with two masters; the first for the mechanics of the voice, the second who helps me from quite an opposite angle--interpretation and finish.

WITH MAUREL

"The master from whom I have learned so much that it cannot be estimated is Victor Maurel. He is a most remarkable man, a great thinker and philosopher. If he had turned his attention to any other art or science, or if he had been but a day laborer, he would be a great man anywhere, in any capacity.

"I have been with him, whenever possible, for two years now. He has shown me the philosophy, the psychology of singing. He has taught me the science of intense diction. By means of such diction, I can sing _mezza voce_, and put it over with less effort and much more artistic effect than I ever used to do, when I employed much more voice. You hear it said this or that person has a big voice and can sing with great power. A brass band can make a lot of noise. I have stood beside men, who in a smaller space, could make much more noise than I could. But when they got out on the stage you couldn't hear them at the back of the hall. It is the knowing how to use the voice with the least possible effort, coupled with the right kind of diction, that will make the greatest effect. Now I can express myself, and deliver the message I feel I have to give.

THE SINGER BEFORE AN AUDIENCE

"You ask if I hear myself, when I am singing for an audience. In a general way, yes. Of course I do not get the full effect of what I am doing; a singer never does. It takes the records to tell me that, and I have been making records for a good number of years. But I know the sensations which accompany correct tone production, and if I feel they are different in any place or passage, I try to make a mental note of the fact and the passage, that I may correct it afterwards. But I must emphasize the point that when I sing, I cast away all thought of _how_ I do anything technical; I want to get away from the mechanics of the voice; I must keep my thought clear for the interpretation, for the message I have brought to the audience. To be constantly thinking--how am I doing this or that--would hamper me terribly. I should never get anywhere. I must have my vocal apparatus under such control that it goes of itself. A pianist does not think of technic when playing in public, neither should a singer think of his vocal technic. Of course there may be occasions when adverse circumstances thrust conditions upon me. If I have a slight cold, or tightness of throat, I have to bring all my resources to bear, to rise above the seeming handicap, and sing as well as I can in spite of it. I can say gratefully, without any desire to boast, that during the past eleven years, I have never once missed an engagement or disappointed an audience. Of course I have had to keep engagements when I did not feel in the mood, either physically or mentally. Many singers would have refused under like conditions. But it does not seem fair to the audience to disappoint, or to the manager either; it puts him in a very difficult and unpleasant position. It seems to me the artist should be more considerate of both manager and audience, than to yield to a slight indisposition and so break his engagement.

THE SINGER IN HIS STUDIO

"It makes such a difference--in quality of tone and in effect--whether you sing in a small or large space. Things you do in the studio and which may sound well there, are quite different or are lost altogether in a large hall. You really cannot tell what the effect will be in a great space, by what you do in your studio. In rehearsing and study, I use half voice, and only occasionally do I use full voice, that is when I wish to get a better idea of the effect."

VOCAL MASTERY

As we stood at the close of the conference, I asked the supreme question--What do you understand by Vocal Mastery? The artist looked as though I were making an impossible demand in requiring an answer to so comprehensive a subject. He took a few strides and then came back.

"I can answer that question with one word--Disregard. Which means, that if you have such control of your anatomy, such command of your vocal resources that they will always do their work, that they can be depended upon to act perfectly, then you can disregard mechanism, and think only of the interpretation--only of your vocal message. Then you have conquered the material--then you have attained Vocal Mastery!"

XIX

=SOPHIE BRASLAU=

MAKING A CAREER IN AMERICA

A fact, often overlooked when considering the career of some of our great singers of to-day, is the fact that they started out to become an instrumentalist rather than a singer. In other words they become proficient on some instrument before taking up serious study of the voice. In this connection one thinks of Mme. Sembrich, who was both pianist and violinist before becoming known as a singer. It would be interesting to follow up this idea and enumerate the vocalists who have broadened their musicianship through the study of other instruments than their own voices. But this delightful task must be reserved for future leisure. For the present it can be set down here that Miss Sophie Braslau, probably the youngest star in the constellation of the Metropolitan artists, is an accomplished pianist, and intended to make her career with the aid of that instrument instead of with her voice.

But we will let the young artist speak for herself. On the occasion in question, she had just returned from a walk, her arms full of rosebuds. "I never can resist flowers," she remarked, as she had them placed in a big silver vase. Then she carried the visitor off to her own special rooms, whose windows overlooked an inner garden, where one forgot one was in the heart of New York. "Indeed it is not like New York at all, rather like Paris," said Miss Braslau, answering my thought.

On a _chaise longue_ in this ivory and rose sanctum, reposed a big, beautiful doll, preserved from childish days. The singer took it up; "I don't play with it now," she said with a smile, "but I used to." She placed it carefully in a chair, then settled herself to talk.

"Yes, I intended to make the piano my instrument and began my studies at the age of six. Before long it was seen that I had something of a voice, but no one gave it much thought, supposing I was to be a pianist; indeed I have the hand of one," holding it up. "I don't think, in those early years, I was so very anxious to become a player. I did not love scales--do not now, and would quite as soon have sat at the piano with a book in my lap, while my fingers mechanically did their stunts. But my mother looked after my practice, and often sat near me. She required a regular amount of time given to music study each day. I am so grateful that she was strict with me, for my knowledge of piano and its literature is the greatest joy to me now. To my thinking all children should have piano lessons; the cost is trifling compared to the benefits they receive. They should be made to study, whether they wish to or not. They are not prepared to judge what is good for them, and if they are given this advantage they will be glad of it later on.

"In due time I entered the Institute of Musical Art, taking the full piano course. Arthur Hochmann was my teacher for piano, and I found him an excellent master. He did a great deal for me; in interpretation, in fineness of detail, in artistic finish I owe him very much. Later I studied several years with Alexander Lambert.

"While at work with my piano, it grew more apparent that I had a voice that should be cultivated. So I began. Afterwards I worked three years with Signor Buzzi Peccia, who started me on an operatic career and finally brought me to the Metropolitan.

"It was a great ordeal for a young singer, almost a beginner, to start at our greatest Opera House! It meant unremitting labor for me. I worked very hard, but I am not afraid of work. Toscanini held sway when I began, and he was a marvelous musician and conductor. Such exactness, such perfection of detail; he required perfection of every one. He did not at first realize how much of a beginner I was, though I had really learned a large number of rôles. He was so strict in every detail that I wept many bitter tears for fear I would not come up to the mark. I knew the music, but had not gained experience through routine. It seems to me every singer should gain this experience in some smaller places before attempting the highest. My advice would be to go and get experience in Europe first. I have never been in Germany, but in Italy and France there are many small opera houses where one may learn routine.

"Another thing. There is a mistaken notion that one cannot reach any height in opera without 'pull' and great influence. I am sure this is not true; for while a pull may help, one must be able to deliver the goods. If one cannot, all the backing in the world will not make one a success. The singer must have the ability to 'put it over.' Think of the artists who can do it--Farrar, Gluck, Schumann-Heink. There is never any doubt about them; they always win their audiences. What I have done has been accomplished by hard work, without backing of any kind. Really of what use is backing anyway? The public can judge--or at least it can _feel_. I know very well that when my chance came to sing _Shanewis_, if I had not been able to do it, no amount of influence would have helped the situation. I had it in my own hand to make or mar my career. I often wonder whether audiences really know anything about what you are trying to do; whether they have any conception of what is right in singing, or whether they are merely swayed by the temperament of the singer.

"Whether we are, or are not to be a musical nation should be a question of deep interest to all music lovers. If we really become a great musical people, it will be largely due to the work of the records. We certainly have wonderful advantages here, and are doing a tremendous lot for music.

"I had an interesting experience recently. It was in a little town in North Carolina, where a song recital had never before been given. Can you fancy a place where there had never even been a concert? The people in this little town were busy producing tobacco and had never turned their thought toward music. In the face of the coming concert what did those people do? They got a program, studied what pieces I had sung on the Victor, got the music of the others; so they had a pretty good idea of what I was going to sing. When I stepped on the platform that night and saw the little upright piano (no other instrument could be secured) and looked into those eager faces, I wondered how they would receive my work. My first number was an aria from _Orfeo_. When I finished, the demonstration was so deafening I had to wait minutes before I could go on. And so it continued all the evening.

"How do I work? Very hard, at least six hours a day. Of these I actually sing perhaps three hours. I begin at nine and give the first hour to memory work on repertoire. I give very thorough study to my programs; for I must know every note in them, both for voice and piano. I make it a point to know the accompaniments, for in case I am ever left without an accompanist, I can play for myself, and it has a great effect on audiences. They may not know or care whether you can play Beethoven or Chopin, but the fact that you can play while you sing, greatly impresses them.

"In committing a song, I play it over and sing it sufficiently to get a good idea of its construction and meaning; then I work in detail, learning words and music at the same time, usually. Certain things are very difficult for me, things requiring absolute evenness of passage work, or sustained calm. Naturally I have an excess of temperament; I feel things in a vivid, passionate way. So I need to go very slowly at times. To-day I gave several hours to only three lines of an aria by Haendel, and am not yet satisfied with it. Indeed, can we ever rest satisfied, when there is so much to learn, and we can always improve?

"The second hour of my day is given to vocalizes. Of course there are certain standard things that one must do; but there are others that need not be done every day. I try to vary the work as much as I can.

"The rest of the day is given to study on repertoire and all the things that belong to it. There is so much more to a singer's art than merely to sing. And it is a sad thing to find that so many singers lack musicianship. They seem to think if they can sing some songs, or even a few operas, that is all there is to it. But one who would become an artist must work most of the time. I am sure Charles Hackett knows the value of work; so does Mabel Garrison and many other Americans. And when you think of it, there are really a brave number of our own singers who are not only making good, but making big names for themselves and winning the success that comes from a union of talent and industry."

XX

=MORGAN KINGSTON=

THE SPIRITUAL SIDE OF THE SINGER'S ART

"A man who has risen to his present eminence through determined effort and hard work, who has done it all in America, is a unique figure in the world of art. He can surely give much valuable information to students, for he has been through so much himself." Thus I was informed by one who was in a position to understand how Morgan Kingston had achieved success. The well known tenor was most kind in granting an audience to one seeking light on his ideas and experiences. He welcomed the visitor with simple, sincere courtesy, and discussed for an hour and a half various aspects of the singer's art.

"In what way may I be of service to you?" began Mr. Kingston, after the first greetings had been exchanged.

"There are many questions to ask," was the answer; "perhaps it were best to propound the most difficult one first, instead of reserving it till the last. What, in your opinion, goes into the acquiring of Vocal Mastery?"

"That is certainly a difficult subject to take up, for vocal mastery includes so many things. First and foremost it includes vocal technic. One must have an excellent technic before one can hope to sing even moderately well. The singer can do nothing without technic, though of course there are many people who try to sing without it. They, however, never get anywhere when hampered by such a lack of equipment. Technic furnishes the tools with which the singer creates his vocal art work; just as the painter's brushes enable him to paint his picture.

RULES OF TECHNIC