Operagasm: On Elitism

For the most part, I really enjoy the company of opera singers – which is good, considering that I spend eighty percent (or more) of my time in their company. If I were to have one complaint about opera singers, though – as well as classical musicians in general – it would be that many of them seem to be laboring under the misconception that music composed in the classical tradition is in some way inherently and measurably superior to other, “lower” forms of music.

This is, to be blunt, complete bullshit.

Now, I can sympathize with this mindset to a certain extent. If I had to choose between listening to the newest Ke$ha single and selections from Le Nozze di Figaro, I'd choose Mozart in a heartbeat. And then I'd give the person who offered me that choice a much-deserved punch in the face. To be fair, though, if the choice was between listening to Ke$ha and eating powdered glass while sawing off my own genitals with a rusty steak knife, I'd still choose the latter, but not because I consider club music to be an inferior art form. It's because I hate the sound of that creature's voice more than the Westboro Baptist Church hates homosexuals.

But I digress.

My main argument against musical elitism is that music is art, and there is no objective way to measure the quality of any artistic work – such a judgement is, of course, qualitative rather than quantitative, and is therefore subject to the whims of individual taste. This is true for individual works, but even more so for entire genres. You can't really say something like “opera is better than musical theater” without sounding like a self-important asshole because there are some really good musicals and really shitty operas out there.

Do you know how many operas Donizetti composed in his lifetime?

Seventy-fucking-five.

Out of those, the most commonly performed operas are Lucia di Lammermoor, Don Pasquale, L'Elisir d'Amore, and La Fille du Regiment. After that, there are operas like Anna Bolena, Maria Stuarda, and Lucrezia Borgia, which aren't performed quite as often but still often enough to deserve notice. And let's add a few more to the total, just in case I've missed any more important ones. That makes about ten operas out of seventy-five, which is a little over thirteen percent – and I'm being generous here.

Were the other sixty-five operas masterpieces?

Fucked if I know; I've never listened to them. But who's to say they're better than a playlist of Queen's greatest hits?

The beauty of music – regardless of its genre – is that it makes you feel things. Music has inspired me, angered me, made me laugh, and even reduced me to tears – sometimes all in the same performance. So I'm sorry, but anyone who tells me that Sunday in the Park with George is somehow less of a heart-rending masterpiece because it premiered on Broadway instead of at the Met can fuck right off.

Ahem. Calming down now.

Another obnoxious mindset I've encountered is the whole “I can sing opera, so that means I can sing anything I want and be awesome at it” thing.

Short answer: No, you really can't.

Long answer: No, you really can't, and I hope you get hit by a bus.

There are a number of famous opera singers (who shall remain nameless unless you follow the links) who have performed concerts and/or released albums of pop and/or musical theater when they had absolutely no business doing so. Branching out is all well and good, but only if you're actually versatile and not just a one-trick pony. Just because one is physically capable of singing “Mad World,” that doesn't mean one should perform it while utterly ignoring all matters of stylistic appropriateness. In short, if you've been studying classical music for years and you don't have a remotely convincing pop voice, stick to opera – there's no shame in playing to your strengths, but there's plenty of shame to go around when you sound trashy as fuck.

Speaking of which, it would be unfair of me not to mention that the reverse is also true. It doesn't matter whether you're a successful pop artist or a little girl on a televised talent show; stay the hell out of opera until you've received the proper training. You're not just mangling “Nessun dorma;” you're also mangling your vocal apparatus. If I had my way, operas would come with disclaimers and warnings like you sometimes see on television:

“These are professionals. Do not attempt.”

That might sound a little rude or exclusionary, but there's method to my douchebaggery. For example: if you've never gone skiing before in your life, you don't start out on a double-black-diamond slope unless you want to fucking die. Furthermore, if you do start off that way, you might make it to the bottom unharmed (possibly even more than once) but it's gonna be due more to dumb luck than any degree of skill, and every subsequent time you go down that slope is going to exponentially increase your chances of sustaining grievous bodily harm.

It's the same with singing opera. There are varying degrees of difficulty (and a lot depends on your skill level and voice type) and you might be able to get through that ball-buster of a Verdi aria a few times without giving yourself nodes, but each time you try to sing it just loads another bullet into that metaphorical revolver you're playing Russian roulette with.

In short, KNOW YOUR LIMITS.

Class dismissed.