Chapter 1.1 - As if Singing 1 (1/2)

There’s a word called passaggio.

Passaggio.

Imagining Italy helps when pronouncing this word.

The common image that pops up in the head when you think of Italian men. A buttery feel as if smothered with butter, a nasal voice – that kind of image. With that in mind, let’s put the emphasis on the ‘ssa’ part. The air strongly escaped through the gum.

PPa-ssa-ggio.

Hmm… a rare word indeed. How rare, well, most people would never hear it in their lives and even I never had, before starting opera.

The thing called opera – classic music – is like that.

As if it’s from a different world, it overflows with jargons only they know of. Maschera, legato, and appoggio etc. Why let go of the good old Korean and use these unusual Italian words?

…Going back to the topic, what is that passaggio thing?

The meaning is simple.

The homeland of opera singing, Italy. It’s a word from that Italy, and its literal meaning is a road or way.

‘Road…’

At a glimpse, it sounds out of place.

What road, when singing?

But as I continued music and studied sound, I came to a realisation

That there was no better expression than ‘road’.

From deep inside my bones.

“Oi. Are you advertising that you are making high notes? Huh? ‘I’m gonna go up now~ going down now~’ like that? Keep the timbre constant! Absolutely constant! Make it impossible to tell the difference between high and low notes!”

That’s what my teacher had said from the first lesson.

“Walk straight, in a straight line. Imagine there’s a straight road up a mountain and you a hiker following that trail.”

“Yes…”

“Imagine going left and right, climbing in a zigzag – how unsightly is that? It’s the same. As if following a straight trail from low to high note, keep your ringing and colour constant. You must climb straight without wobbling to reach the top.”

“…”

I actually couldn’t understand the teacher’s words back then.

I mean, obviously there’s going to be a difference when hitting a high note, no? How would I make it sound like a low note when I’m struggling with the climbing?

You’re saying, run like walking, scream as if whispering, or something like that?

Straight road my ass.

However, it was impossible to go against the teacher and I just listened and worked hard.

Whilst leaving the Arts High School as if being expelled, graduating a normal highschool, entering a university and into an ensemble, I repeated the teacher’s words in mind and continued training.

After all, that teacher was the only one who had been sincere in teaching me.

The change happened slowly but surely.

From A2 to B4, in other words, From 0 Octave A to 2 Octave B.

Even whilst climbing up and down 15 stages of the music scale, the timbre would be kept clear and constant. When I was making any note, I could add the desired colour and end any note changes delicately as if drawing a curve.

It felt like my eyes were opened.

That was… like a painter having control of the perfect tool

With the ability to fill any canvas with the desired colour and drawing.

A painter with the best brush.

After reaching that level around my 30s, I became a baritone singer with some fame under the belt and entered one of the best ensembles in Korea, the ‘Future Ensemble’.

“What level did you get, Mr. Yunjae?”

“Me? Level 2.”

“… Level 2?”

From a test carried straight after entering which gave a score out of levels 1 to 10, I got a Level 2 straight away.

Level 2.

It was one level under the best, Level 1. It was a great level considering my experience, but…

I wasn’t very content.

I mean, it felt like being treated like a domestic animal – a singing animal. To be happy just because I got rated as a special A-grade Korean Pig? My pride wasn’t that low.

Of course, having more money come in was good.

In any case, due to showing off the level straight after admission, and not reading the atmosphere, the relationship with the members of the ensemble became shallower. Not that I thought too much of it.

It was a life busy enough just singing.

“Mr. Yunjae is… quite amazing. It’s been a while since I saw someone capable of keeping the ringing going without shaking. But it’s just, can you sing a little bit softer and weaker? There’s a little bit of a dissonance. Yes. Just like that. Let’s do it one more time.”

What was even more annoying was the suppression unique to ensembles.

The atmosphere itself of ensembles was like that. You can’t stand out because it’s dozens of people singing together. Match everyone else, kill yourself and become the subtle background sound.

There were constant demands to get rid of my colour, as well as demands against my own singing.

Saying, ‘It’s annoying to hear one baritone stand out’.

So without colour or odour, and without any individuality, I had to cut away from my voice. It was a painful process to anyone who considered themselves a musician.

But the wicked thing about humans was that given one to two months, you could get accustomed to anything. When I came to things, I, who could harmonise perfectly like a machine, was created.

The problem was found later.

One day, when I was singing a solo part, I had been spitting out ridiculously apathetic sounds.

…I decided to leave the ensemble.

“You are going to leave?”

“Yes, I have decided already.”

“I see… I somehow saw that coming.”

It was very sudden but it seemed to have been predicted judging from my recent behaviours.

Just like that, even throwing away the seat of a permanent member which most opera singers dreamed of, I left Future Ensemble.

“Umm… Can I ask where you are planning to go next?”

“It’s not certain yet, but I want to try an audition at… Met.”

“Met! I hope you do well.”

Met.

New York Metropolitan Opera.

The place where the world’s best opera singers gather.

Could I succeed at that place I wonder?

In fact, I had confidence. Since learning and being caned from that teacher from Future Arts High School, I had never once heard anyone call me a bad singer.

I had confidence in my own singing and the pride of having been taught by a great teacher.

And after somehow getting in contact and visiting New York for an audition, the result I got was…

Fail.

I got on a plane and returned to Korea straight after receiving the results.

That day.

I was carrying my luggage from the airport by myself as the rain started to drizzle. I slowly scanned through the airport, but there were only busy people walking steadfast, and no friends to welcome me.

Well, I wasn’t expecting anything. A person who was crazily addicted to singing and only practising by himself – no-one would be friends with such a person.

Having ignored some messages after finding them annoying, it ended up with no-one contacting me at all.

‘You reap what you sow’ fitted me perfectly.

Like that, cutting off all relations I dedicated all my life to singing… and funnily failed a mere audition that easily.