I’m sure most my singer colleagues will agree: to sing for a live audience is hushed and sacred in the best of times.
In COVID times it’s more so.
What’s added, what’s new, is how fraught it is. What’s new is how fragile it is.
Because it can and might be snatched away from us all at any second.
I want so much to tell you all what it was like to sing a world premiere in Cologne this week, with an audience, in the middle of a pandemic.
And I keep not finding the words but basically what I want to say is: in these times, live singing is not really singing anymore.
To be clear: singing is an enormous privilege and gift in any time. It just is. There is not a second I am asked to sing where I don’t want to get down on my knees and thank G-d that others want to hear me sing.
And still the thing I want to tell you is this:
It felt sad.
There, I said it.
Not the gig itself. No, no the gig itself was filled with outrageously talented, kind collegues, who expertly banded together to tackle the brilliant new score by Michael Wertmueller, composer I cherish. I was bursting with pride for the whole team.
But the act of singing your heart out to a massive hall, with only 50 audience members, so spread out that all you see are empty red plush chairs: it made me want to cry.
I cannot speak for all, but I think I can confidently say, no singer becomes a singer to get rich.
We become singers because of The Conversation.
The Magical Conversation between performer and public, where you can feel them with you, you can feel when they are in your palm. The conversation that allows you transcendence and beauty and unity with thousands of people all at once.
Without it: it’s just little, mortal you, hollering into a dead black hole.
To be clear: I’m not suggesting we just give up, as the Met did and just shut doors, and refuse to think creatively. Hell no.
It is, as ever, crucial to support creative programming and to find ways to sing safely in these times. We must find ways to keep singing until a vaccine come, to not let the art form die, to not let our musicians die.
And it the same time, I think it’s important to be honest about what it can feel like to howl into a void.
Today, as our Jewish heritage encourages us, I am holding these two truths, joy and sorrow, at once.
