Maximum feeling
Interview |
Sincerity above all else. This is the feeling you get when soprano Adela Zaharia talks about opera, music, roles and her life as a singer. With enthusiasm and verve, truthfulness and honesty, she provides insights into a career that has now also brought her to the Vienna State Opera. And in conversation with Oliver Láng, she also describes the challenges facing a singer today.
The last seconds before the first note: What goes through your mind?
Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Breathe deeply. Position the sound. Visualize how you want the first note to sound. And now let's go!
ol You didn't come from a musical background, so you were breaking new ground as a singer and had to fight your way to the top without help.
In an interview, you spoke of a certain stubbornness that helped you.
Let's call it consistency. You know, I wasn't a natural, never. I had to fight with all my might for every step, especially as a singer. At first I was completely lost: In Romania at the time, I hardly knew what was happening outside my home country, I didn't know anyone from the opera business, I had no connections, no agency, I was underestimated. By the way: even by myself. And I had extreme stage fright, almost performance panic. In other words: I was definitely not the person that others thought would have an international career. So I had to develop a thick skin. I had to learn how to deal with rejection. To deal with people telling me I wasn't the right person for this or that. So I reassured myself over and over again: It will get better! It will get better! That's what I mean by consistency. Overcoming difficulties. Day in, day out. Until it actually gets better. But this challenging process has one big advantage: I never take for granted what I have achieved and where I am now. It all feels a bit surreal and I appreciate all the good things that come my way.
If the current singer Zaharia were to meet the former student Adela and she had one piece of advice - what would it be?
I would say: keep going, don't give up, keep trying. It's worth it! Oh, a lot of things would have been much easier if someone had told me that. If I had heard: You are strong enough, you can overcome all this. Just be yourself and everything will work out. It would also have been important if I had known how long this process could take.
Halfway through your international career, you were in the opera studio at the Komische Oper in Berlin. You sang Pamina in The Magic Flute there at a very young age. Did you realize how important such a debut could be? Or were you simply a young, determined singer?
I think a big part of my luck has always been that I didn't realize how crucial an opportunity was at the time. (laughs) If I had understood it, I would have been a lot more stressed. Maybe that's why I kept trying to stay a little clueless so I could handle the pressure better. For example, when I had my debut in Paris, someone asked me: "Aren't you scared? This is the biggest house you've ever sung in!" And before he could go on and tell me how many seats the opera house has, I stopped him: "I don't want to know! I just want to go out there and do my best!" And about the Komische Oper: I think the management realized that I can handle everything that comes my way. Otherwise I would never have gotten the Pamina role that we toured the world with.
you won the Operalia competition in 2017, after which your career took off very quickly. Did you like this speed?
I didn't really realize what was happening and how quickly things were suddenly developing. My life and career accelerated to a pace that I wasn't used to before. There was enormous pressure, enormous demands and enormous challenges. And I was right in the middle of it all, only noticing it in passing. I have to say that at some point I was on the verge of burnout and was in danger of collapsing under the pressure. Then came the pandemic, which forced me to slow down. This period opened my eyes and reminded me that I am a human being and not a machine, that I have my limits and that I shouldn't overextend myself in the long term. And this phase reminded me what I really need in life and what is important. When work started again, I had a completely new attitude - and this helps me a lot today.
"I believe very strongly in an exchange of energies, and I actually feel this time and again. I give - and receive."
Then very specifically: What is really important in life?
Of course, I can only answer this for myself, and it sounds banal now, but: happiness. And to achieve that, I need the right balance between work and private life, between the times when I'm busy and the times when I'm free. I need to be able to distinguish between the pressure that I can handle well and that which becomes too much. These are things I've learned to pay attention to - and I'm still learning. Ultimately, it's about how I deal with my voice and my health, also so that I can give more than one hundred percent on stage. Because only then can I enjoy my job as a singer. There's a nice English saying "You can't pour from an empty cup". So I have to make sure that my cup is never empty.
Working as a singer means that there is not only pressure, but also strict rules. Don't go out late the night before a performance, get plenty of sleep, eat well, beware of air conditioning and much more. It may not sound that complicated, but the devil lurks in the details. For example: some seemingly innocent foods can damage your voice, dehydrate you, are too spicy or stick together. Nuts, for example, can contain oils that have an unfavorable effect on the vocal cords. Do you get used to all this?
I couldn't claim to have gotten used to it, nor that I particularly enjoy it. I find this disciplined part of my life difficult because it involves constant organizing and managing. I have two souls in my chest. One is perfectionist and also ambitious. The other dreams of a carefree life by the sea. (laughs) It really is like this: I have to stick to a strict sleep and eating schedule around a performance series. A romanticized bohemian life is often not possible. But again, it's all about finding the right balance! I've always resolved not to become a neurotic singer. So, as long as I'm not right before a performance, I don't worry about air conditioning, I'm happy when there are ice cubes floating in a cocktail and I eat whatever I feel like. Because I don't want to live in a bubble.
These were some of the challenging aspects of life as a singer. But now to the happy ones: Why do you do all this? Because the final applause intoxicates you? Because no one who hasn't tried it can imagine how fulfilled you can be on stage?
No, no! For me, the audience is the most important part. This little bit of masochism that I just described only comes into question for me because on good evenings something is created between us singers and the audience. I believe very strongly in an exchange of energy, and I actually feel that time and again. I give - and receive. If I were in top form and nothing came from the audience - what would be the point? Knowing that there are people on the other side experiencing a performance and getting carried away is very, very enriching. And secondly, the experiences I have with my colleagues on stage are always unique. We experience moments of connection and emotional highs that some people may never be able to enjoy. This deepest sadness, this highest happiness, the compressed feelings that are lived out on stage are unique. And we don't just get it once, but over and over again.
Does this make you mature faster as a person?
Let's put it this way: I am no longer the person I was before I stepped onto the stage. Because the time I spend with and in the characters I embody changes me radically. I am forced to think about them. About their psyche, their motives, their actions. I live through their existence and have experiences that I could never have imagined. Yes, you learn a lot.
Which brings us to the subject of "Lucia di Lammermoor": What did you learn from Lucia?
Lucia is an incredibly important role for me because it taught me a lot about truth on stage. Over the course of the opera, Lucia struggles with enormous pressure - from her brother, from society. What's more, she believes that her lover Edgardo has left her. All these thoughts bombard her. All the time. You can literally see her getting smaller and smaller, collapsing - and falling into madness. That's terrible! But through the madness she leaves reality and escapes the norms. It's almost like a moment of liberation. Mind you: a terrible, bloody liberation, but one that brings her inner peace. That's absurd, of course! Because she is delusional, kills and dies... But by singing and playing this part, especially the madness, I have learned to be completely vulnerable on stage, to be "naked" and defenceless and to strip away all superficialities. I don't try to portray anything, I just try to be - without any constraints. It's hard to explain, and when you talk about it, it sounds so paradoxical.
But how do you feel after a "Lucia" or any other performance? Pure happiness? Exhaustion?
I feel more empty than happy. Of course - the people around me are happy after a successful performance. And I'm also happy about the whole situation. That's clear. But when I immerse myself deeply in a role, I'm left with a feeling of ... I can't say it any other way than: emptiness. And I do need a bit of time before I'm back in our world.
You repeatedly sing the roles of dying women. How do you feel the day after a stage death? Do you feel particularly alive as a reaction? Or does this stage death take its toll on you?
It takes me with it. Especially with a role like Lucia or Violetta in "La traviata", when death resonates right from the start. It has a huge emotional impact on me, and the day after I have to recharge my batteries. I tend to stay at home, read and regenerate. I can't simply switch between a desperate, dying person and a cheerful private life with friends, parties and social evenings.
Because you mentioned reading - your current books?
Two autobiographies. The one by the great soprano Virginia Zeani and, most recently, the one by Matthew Perry. I'm a big Friends fan and always loved his character in the series. And I also find it incredibly moving to be able to get to know his real life world. I'm interested in everything that life and art have to offer. Because everything - every museum visit, every book, every person we meet - leaves its mark. And all of that shapes me. And my art too.
Last question: Why Friends? Because there is an almost cozy kind of extended family there that conveys a sense of security?
As a student, the series was a good way for me to perfect my English. And the lives of these friends also reflected my life as a student. And later, today ... Often when I'm alone, packing my bags, tidying an apartment and doing laundry, series like Friends or Big Bang Theory are on in the background. It's exactly as you say: the lifestyle as a singer is a lonely one - traveling, hotel rooms, being on the road a lot. You need a sense of familiarity, and that's exactly what series like this provide. Many of my colleagues do the same. It makes you feel a bit more secure, a bit more at home.