![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( meme )
I saw the dress of Idomeneo. It should be called Idamante. Mozart impresses me against my will, but the performers... Susan Graham, current Houstonian ruler of the pants role, makes me despair of ever achieving anything. Ever. So does Laura Claycomb, the soppy sop who played Ilia. And I already despair of being a tenor, so the unfairly golden-throated protagonist and sidekick merely deepened my pathos.
Dr. Farwell had me try out my "middle resonance" today. It's what I used in the rock song. She had meant to address the issue this semester, but she said she didn't realize I already knew how to do it until she heard it in the song. So in a voice lesson I got to tenorize from a below middle c as high as I could go, and damn the cracks. Especially since I had just been crying (this will be a problem if it continues after every single rehearsal of the Barber Reincarnations). So the muscle memory I have of the experience will need to be modified for when I'm not compensating for tearful throat closure. Augh. It kept threatening to start up again, too, so I gave up when the lesson was over and abandoned my sympathetic pianist to walk back to Jones. I could have used a pillow.
There's so far to go, still. I guess there always will be.
I saw the dress of Idomeneo. It should be called Idamante. Mozart impresses me against my will, but the performers... Susan Graham, current Houstonian ruler of the pants role, makes me despair of ever achieving anything. Ever. So does Laura Claycomb, the soppy sop who played Ilia. And I already despair of being a tenor, so the unfairly golden-throated protagonist and sidekick merely deepened my pathos.
Dr. Farwell had me try out my "middle resonance" today. It's what I used in the rock song. She had meant to address the issue this semester, but she said she didn't realize I already knew how to do it until she heard it in the song. So in a voice lesson I got to tenorize from a below middle c as high as I could go, and damn the cracks. Especially since I had just been crying (this will be a problem if it continues after every single rehearsal of the Barber Reincarnations). So the muscle memory I have of the experience will need to be modified for when I'm not compensating for tearful throat closure. Augh. It kept threatening to start up again, too, so I gave up when the lesson was over and abandoned my sympathetic pianist to walk back to Jones. I could have used a pillow.
There's so far to go, still. I guess there always will be.
