ILL

I’ve got a cold. Please leave sympathetic messages and/or eulogies in the comments section below.

Fortunately I’ve timed this cold very well: although I should be singing this week, no-one is paying me to do so, and consequently this cold will cost me nothing financially. That’s not entirely coincidental – there are several preventative measures which I could have taken last week to stave this off. I didn’t because most of them cost money or are rather boring or both.

Singers are hypochondriacs. Even if you don’t start out that way, year upon year of relying for your income on one of the most fragile parts of the body will turn you into one. So far I’ve never had to cancel a professional engagement as a result of illness, although a lucky streak can only last so long, especially as roles get longer and heavier. There have been times when I almost certainly should have cancelled, but there are times when you have no choice – for example, when you find yourself singing niche repertoire without a cover (understudy), and so either you go on or the show goes off. So in the case of anything short of the more advanced stages of rigor mortis having set in, you’re going on.

Aside from that, the way that most opera contracts work, if singers cancel a performance because of illness, they don’t get paid. That doesn’t just mean for that performance: a contract is often arranged so that rehearsal fees and/or expenses all get wrapped up in a per-show fee, so in effect cancelling even one show will leave a singer seriously out of pocket, perhaps even making a loss on the whole contract.

(It does seem a flaw in the system that there’s no room for the company to pay an unwell principal their fee but to make the decision to put the cover on in the interests of all involved, but I can’t see that changing any time soon.)

So why is it that your favourite singer seems to be the one who cancels far more frequently than others? Well, assuming that your favourite singer is someone famous, because they can afford to, since a missed performance fee won’t result in an unpaid council tax bill.

But also because they can’t afford not to. I’m constantly surprised at how even some seasoned critics will comment that A. always sings wonderfully, on the occasions when she doesn’t cancel. So allow me to join the dots: perhaps A. always sings wonderfully because she cancels whenever she knows that she’ll be anything less than wonderful. I can’t imagine Le Gavroche serves many collapsed soufflés.

While there are exceptions, there is a strong correlation between vocal quality and fragility. To aim for the utmost degree of vocal quality is to take a risk, because the singer knows that quality requires a fresh, healthy voice.  That doesn’t mean that the singing which emerges will sound fragile – in fact, quite the opposite in many cases – but that the process of producing it is vulnerable to anything less than peak physical condition. It’s analogous to fast sprinters having vulnerable hamstrings.

In many ways it’s far safer to develop a less refined but more robust vocal technique, which a lot of singers do, knowing that it will allow them to sing even when they’re ill or knackered. But I’d bet that none of those guys is your favourite singer. Ultimately, it’s better for a singer that you’re disappointed by their absence than by their sub-par performance.

That’s a major reason why singers are constantly asking their agents to do whatever they can to increase their fees. It’s not (just) being greedy – higher fees bring added security, which allows a singer to take the risk of aiming for higher artistic standards.

Furthermore, I’m guessing your favourite singer is probably someone who sings the biggest roles, ones which simply cannot be performed at anything significantly less than full physical capacity. It’s not a question of an ill singer not wanting to present their Tosca, Carmen, Otello or Wotan to the audience that night – the roles simply won’t allow it.

So the next time your favourite singer has to cancel on you, bear that in mind. And if you’re still not happy, you could always switch your allegiance to one of the guys who’s standing at the back worrying about his council tax.

 

 

 

 

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About Paul Carey Jones

Paul Carey Jones is a Welsh opera singer. He should be writing about the current state of the classical music business but might well digress into science, politics, football or cheese. He has recently started a series of irregular posts along the broad theme of "Things they don't teach you at music college." Any suggestions or requests on this theme will be treated with feigned or genuine interest. You can contact him via comments here or at: mail@paulcareyjones.com
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