Sometimes, all you need is a bit of permission.
Conductor, Robert Bass contacted me in 2002 to inquire if I would be interested in helping him with a project. He intended to present Leonard Bernstein's MASS at Carnegie Hall. The concert would be a vehicle for his Collegiate Chorale. We were acquaintances from our daily drop-offs at the Special Music School where our kids were enrolled. (That school inspired countless collaborations that were cooked-up while waiting on the sidewalk for our various progeny.) For the Carnegie performance, he wanted help assembling a cast of soloists and production support. I had already been at this for over a decade, so it was only a matter of opening my phone book and calling up the team I had assembled for The Vatican DVD project two seasons before. It turns out, this would be the Carnegie Hall premiere of Bernstein's MASS. I brought in my favorite stage director to act as stage manager and my lighting designer-partner to do what he could with the thirteen available instruments. Mostly, I wanted them in the room and on the program for what was to come later.
All cast members who were available immediately said yes. I was only needing to replace four cast members unavailable for the dates.
As per my S.O.P., I put the call out to my cast to recommend replacements. This 'in-house' manner of casting has always served me well and invariably works to strengthen the ensemble bond. We did hold an open call audition for the two of the open roles just to be fair to any who would want to be considered. There is nothing more dispiriting than learning of an opportunity only to realize that you never had a shot anyway.
So, we had a cast. My designer created a 'mood' in the room and the stage director/manager has taped-out the dimensions of the stage on the floor of the rehearsal hall to match the confines of the Carnegie stage. Three days before the concert, one of my 'new hires' called me with a problem. His was the most difficult role in the ensemble, outside that of the Celebrant. He sang it beautifully. But he was terrified of being 'off book' and missing one or more of the tricky rhythms and verses. I heard him. And told him I had a simple solution: We would all hold a book.
He was a bit incredulous at first. Citing the fact that most of the cast outside himself had performed their roles at The Vatican and elsewhere, multiple times. And how should he feel being the cause of them to 'hold book' during a concert they had already memorized. Again, the answer was simple: "Because we are a team. And we are only as strong as the weakest of us. You sing the hell out of this score. No one has sung it better. If it would support you to be free in your interpretation to hold a book, then we all will. Some may never look at theirs. But we are a team. And this is a concert performance anyway."
The next day was the Final Dress. As I was working on a pretty nasty cold, my understudy and long-time collaborator was singing the Celebrant. I was sitting out in the audience, taking notes and enjoying the performance. When it came to the dicey solo that my castmate had called about, he calmly looked out into the audience, reached out to his score on the music stand in front of him, and closed the book. He sang the shit out of the Non Credo. Not a word or rhythm dropped.
Later, he found me to answer the question he expected me to ask: What happened?
"I called you looking for an answer to my fear. What you gave me was permission. Once I knew that I could hold the book, my fear abated. And in the absence of fear...courage. It was almost immediate. Thank you."
He was fantastic in the concert. I have never had the opportunity to work with the singer since that production. But I have thought of him often. And the lesson I learned from that experience has made me a better producer, director and singer.
Conductor, Robert Bass contacted me in 2002 to inquire if I would be interested in helping him with a project. He intended to present Leonard Bernstein's MASS at Carnegie Hall. The concert would be a vehicle for his Collegiate Chorale. We were acquaintances from our daily drop-offs at the Special Music School where our kids were enrolled. (That school inspired countless collaborations that were cooked-up while waiting on the sidewalk for our various progeny.) For the Carnegie performance, he wanted help assembling a cast of soloists and production support. I had already been at this for over a decade, so it was only a matter of opening my phone book and calling up the team I had assembled for The Vatican DVD project two seasons before. It turns out, this would be the Carnegie Hall premiere of Bernstein's MASS. I brought in my favorite stage director to act as stage manager and my lighting designer-partner to do what he could with the thirteen available instruments. Mostly, I wanted them in the room and on the program for what was to come later.
All cast members who were available immediately said yes. I was only needing to replace four cast members unavailable for the dates.
As per my S.O.P., I put the call out to my cast to recommend replacements. This 'in-house' manner of casting has always served me well and invariably works to strengthen the ensemble bond. We did hold an open call audition for the two of the open roles just to be fair to any who would want to be considered. There is nothing more dispiriting than learning of an opportunity only to realize that you never had a shot anyway.
So, we had a cast. My designer created a 'mood' in the room and the stage director/manager has taped-out the dimensions of the stage on the floor of the rehearsal hall to match the confines of the Carnegie stage. Three days before the concert, one of my 'new hires' called me with a problem. His was the most difficult role in the ensemble, outside that of the Celebrant. He sang it beautifully. But he was terrified of being 'off book' and missing one or more of the tricky rhythms and verses. I heard him. And told him I had a simple solution: We would all hold a book.
He was a bit incredulous at first. Citing the fact that most of the cast outside himself had performed their roles at The Vatican and elsewhere, multiple times. And how should he feel being the cause of them to 'hold book' during a concert they had already memorized. Again, the answer was simple: "Because we are a team. And we are only as strong as the weakest of us. You sing the hell out of this score. No one has sung it better. If it would support you to be free in your interpretation to hold a book, then we all will. Some may never look at theirs. But we are a team. And this is a concert performance anyway."
The next day was the Final Dress. As I was working on a pretty nasty cold, my understudy and long-time collaborator was singing the Celebrant. I was sitting out in the audience, taking notes and enjoying the performance. When it came to the dicey solo that my castmate had called about, he calmly looked out into the audience, reached out to his score on the music stand in front of him, and closed the book. He sang the shit out of the Non Credo. Not a word or rhythm dropped.
Later, he found me to answer the question he expected me to ask: What happened?
"I called you looking for an answer to my fear. What you gave me was permission. Once I knew that I could hold the book, my fear abated. And in the absence of fear...courage. It was almost immediate. Thank you."
He was fantastic in the concert. I have never had the opportunity to work with the singer since that production. But I have thought of him often. And the lesson I learned from that experience has made me a better producer, director and singer.
| The cast of MASS premiere performance at Carnegie Hall (2002) featuring the cast from The Vatican (2000), Collegiate Chorale and Orchestra of St. Lukes. Conducted by Robert Bass |  Cast of Bernstein's MASS at Carnegie Hall (2002) |
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