SMH Diva Review
Diary of a diva or two or three
By JOHN SHAND
Page 25 - ( 1316 words )
Wednesday, 24 May 2000
From section: News And Features
Publication: Sydney Morning Herald
The end result is an audience in laughter and tears. But what does it take to put together the creamy mix of musical excellence and show biz that is The Three Divas? The Herald was a fly on the wall for the last five days of preparation for their national tour.
Before this, Judi Connelli, Jennifer McGregor and Suzanne Johnston had assembled the repertoire in collaboration with musical director David King. Much of it they performed at Opera in the Vineyards last November, and three days had already gone into brushing it up and adding new songs.
MONDAY
On a sunny autumn afternoon in the inner suburb of Alexandria the divas are to begin recording a CD. There are three six-hour sessions to capture 14 pieces. Because the finished product must be on sale only 10 days later, the covers are being printed while the recording is happening, which means there is no option of dropping a track that doesn't work.
So the pressure is on, but you wouldn't know it from the prevailing demeanour. Dress is casual, bordering on grungy, with King in shorts and work boots. He and fellow pianist Kellie Dickerson have already sorted out the sound and positioning of the two grand pianos in conjunction with producer Paul Najar and engineer Peter Blyton.
Upon arrival, the divas enthuse about the studio its cavernous size, natural light and sensational acoustics. Johnston proposes a trio piece, Sondheim's You Could Drive A Person Crazy (from Company), as a good place to start. They run through it a couple of times to warm up, then go for a first take, the tempo slowed slightly at McGregor's suggestion, to try to capture more of the song's abundant wit.
All five performers then traipse into the control room to listen to the result. "Tour's off!" proclaims Connelli in mock horror at the conclusion of a playback spent alternately groaning and laughing at themselves.
Back at the microphones McGregor could be singing at a friend's party as she happily bobs and sways. Connelli conducts herself with her hand, physically reaching for the notes she hits with ease. Johnston alternates between concentrating hard and clowning uproariously.
When they listen to further playbacks Connelli holds her face as though in agony, McGregor smiles and sways, and Johnston follows the score, noting inaccuracies. ``The irony here is you sound more like the opera singer," Johnston tells Connelli, who nods, grimaces and resolves to lighten her vocal quality. "I think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown," she says, disappearing back into the studio.
Repeated takes are attacked with the zest of the first. When they decide to move on to something else, there is a consensus that a more blithe version may still be attainable, which is, in fact, captured late on Wednesday.
Next up is the emotive Somewhere from West Side Story, a piece to stretch their voices on. A dramatic first take gives rise to much hilarity when they listen back. The next one leads to a decision to make the performance gentler, though McGregor is satisfied with her soprano parts.
Connelli seems least at ease, and is highly self-critical. Perhaps she most misses the live audience she thrives on so much. And being more intuitive, her performances vary more from take to take. But she, too, relaxes as day wears into night, and they achieve the session's quota, turning in some dazzling performances.
TUESDAY
After singing the ravishing Je Veux Vivre from Gounod's Romeo et Juliette McGregor explains that it is easier for her to do the operatic arias at the start of a session. ``Everything else is set much lower, and suddenly my vocal cords are saying, `What are you doing to us?"' she says.
They swing from that to a marvellous Gershwin medley, contrived by King. While the pianists rehearse, the three women sit side by side on a couch in the control room, singing along and sending it up.
The first take is remarkably close to being right. At Blyton's suggestion, the women move from being in line to forming a semi-circle so that they can see each other and interact more. King decides to cut Summertime in half, despite the beauty of McGregor's rendition, because he feels that it is of disproportionate length within the total medley. Najar comments that they could simply have more fun with the material, and this they do.
By the end of the second day they are still on target, although some of the most demanding songs remain.
WEDNESDAY
Johnston and McGregor tackle their arias to start, then Connelli absolutely nails Terrific Band and a Real Nice Crowd from Ballroom in one take. She, however, is dissatisfied, returns to the studio and makes the second take even more powerful by once again lightening her attack.
This is the pressure day, when everything has to be completed. Both McGregor and Connelli find themselves having to conquer extremely demanding songs right at the end of the session, when they are bone-tired from three days of singing and concentrating. That they succeed borders on heroism. All repair for a glass of wine.
THURSDAY
The scene has now shifted to a Sydney Dance Company rehearsal studio in Walsh Bay. Here, director Nancye Hayes is choreographing the divas' stage movements. Connelli is bothered by a possible throat infection, and whispers her parts as they shuffle around the floor, while Hayes sits with a benign smile on her face, making notes.
At the conclusion of a run-through of the Gershwin medley, Johnston says, ``We need steps, Nance," and Hayes sets to work to tighten up the routine. The moves are always motivated by the lyrics, along with a desire to spread the action for the benefit of audience members seated to the sides. Hayes demonstrates the steps herself, and the women move with her, watching themselves in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
Johnston is amusing, Connelli diligent, McGregor carefree and playful. All four women giggle at their mistakes, with Johnston again declaring ``Tour's off!" after a goof. Yet following three days of recording, these rehearsal days are a feat of stamina.
FRIDAY
Work on the CD continues in a Castlereagh Street studio. Thursday and Friday are spent on the ground-breaking technique of combining mixing and mastering into a single process, thereby both improving quality and saving time. Najar and Blyton sit with mastering engineer Don Bartley in a tiny room, repeatedly listening to different takes, and deciding what to use. By day's end, copies of the CD exist, ready to be sold the following Wednesday at the first concert in Alice Springs.
Meanwhile, rain drips outside the windows and an overhead fan rattles incessantly in the Walsh Bay rehearsal room. Connelli's throat problem has cleared and she is in jovial spirits. They do a complete run-through of the show without an intermission, the mood unruffled and confident, with periodic sparks of the power, beauty and wit they command, such as when Connelli and McGregor combine in an emotionally scarifying reading of A Boy Like That from West Side Story.
Lighting designer/stage manager Belinda Gibson and sound technician Steve Peereboom have been making notes over both these days. Producer Christine Dunstan has previously stayed away to avoid spreading her flu, but now she is an enthusiastic spectator. At the conclusion of the run-through, she gives the divas a pep talk about safeguarding their health, then moves on to arrangements for everything from dry-cleaning to airline tickets.
``The tour's back on," smiles Johnston.
