Soprano Primatology

When I’m not indoors rehearsing or outside and blinded by the sun, I’m getting to see some of the topography of the sunshine state, which I will write about in detail later. First, I’ll observe my fellow singers in their natural habitat.

Of all the phyla in the musician species, none have more magnificent plumage nor a more distinctive call than the singer. Her face is permanently made up for the stage, her wardrobe highlights her contours, and she makes certain to carry her breasts high and visible, downstage center. Much as other musicians may boast of playing a Strad or a gold flute, the singer inspires your confidence in her by exhibiting the beauty of her instrument, which in her case is her body. In my first days here, I was astounded at how beautifully painted and well put-together most of the singers present themselves, even at 8 in the morning. But it’s a strategy found throughout nature: look like an alpha and eventually the rest of the pack will believe you too.

Also as in nature, creatures make noises and behave in ways related to their appearance. A dense, meaty soprano emits a dense, meaty sound. A tenor’s vowels swell out of resonance and out of his mouth like the fat over his belt. The soubrette who talks about sex all the time and delights in flashing people performs coquettishly, regardless of the meaning of her song. Can’t tell a book by its cover? Take one look at a singer and you know exactly what kind of performer she will be. That socially awkward girl is never comfortable onstage, that wooden soldier guy is stiff as a board when he sings.

Although women (particularly sopranos) greatly outnumber men, nature’s diversity is evident in the range of personalities in any given population sample. There’s the crazy and the clueless, the diva and the obnoxious, the intellectual and the terrified. One woman greets you with a bracing “Hello ugly!” and can never take the hint that you would prefer to decline the opportunity to touch her breasts. Another will take it upon herself to correct you in rehearsal, even though she’s barely learned her own part. When congregated in high numbers, they all talk fervently about singing: commenting on recordings, marveling at musical examples, complaining about a passage, etc. I revel in it, until I grow weary. Perhaps the koala can subsist on eucalyptus leaves alone, but I need some variety in my conversational diet.

Every single one of us struggles with at least one aspect of technique or stage presence. By contrast, everyone offers a strength or two that I can learn from. Even if one of the Queens of the Night (the role is triple cast) has trouble with her runs, her acting and grace on stage is simply beautiful. A little soprano doesn’t have much of a voice, but from tip to toe embodies her character. The dapper but sleazy bass who is performing two roles (and oh how the sexual tension skyrocketed the minute he set foot among all the ladies!) can stay in character even while eyeing the maestro for his cues, and remains cool as vichyssoise while dashing between rehearsals.

Overall, however, I’m surprised at the level of singers here. I thought I would be struggling to prove myself among a competitive pool of accomplished performers. There are, however, quite a few singers who are just plain bad! Some even have advanced degrees! I think I’m somewhere in a respectable mid-range. If a singer’s career has as much to do with Darwin as it does with talent, I have a feeling I’ll be fit enough to survive.

If I’m inspired later on, I’ll try to write about some of the “culture” I’ve observed here in Florida, and tomorrow I’d like to tell you more about the nature of the state, which is drastically different from up East. I’m hopefully going to a little day trip tomorrow to a wildlife park, where I bet you I just might find my mammalian doppelganger!