by Emily Cathcart

The Irish mezzo-soprano has brought myriad lives into existence through the roles she inhabits as an opera singer. Here, Sharon tells ALHAUS magazine about her unique experiences... and the work that goes into creating her performances.   

Let’s start at the beginning. What do you remember hearing around the house growing up?
It was always my dad who had music on, he’s a big country and western fan so it was Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson! My grandmother was really my first musical influence when I was small — she played the fiddle in a céilí band and she would play for us when we would visit. She and my grandad met at a céilí where she was playing; he was completely nuts about music. He would tear up listening to a piece of music he loved played by one of his favourite musicians... I like to think that’s where the gene came from.

You’ve said (in The Journal of Music) that the story and psychology of the characters is the core of your art form—so what are your favourite stories to tell?
I’ve always found the stories furthest removed from my own personal experience to be the most rewarding. It’s one of the great privileges of this job to be able to inhabit the inner life of a character, often very different from me, and have to grapple with representing them as authentically as possible so that the audience understand their story and can empathise with, or at the very least understand, their motivations.

One of the most extreme things I’ve ever experienced on stage was in an opera called Oscar and the Lady in Pink (based on the book of the same name by Belgian author Éric-Emmanuel Schmitt) at Theater Freiburg in Germany, where I played a 10-year-old boy with terminal cancer. I had the opportunity, in a completely safe environment, to see things through the eyes of a child who knew he was going to die, and yet manages to come to terms with that.

I’ll never ever forget the reaction my colleagues had the first time they saw me in full makeup and costume — I had a bald wig, I was dressed in little blue pyjamas and it happened at the time that I was quite thin after a painful break-up, and my makeup was very convincing: I looked like a very frail, sick child. The reaction was really visceral, a mixture of shock and pity, and it drove home to me how uncomfortable it is to be the object of someone’s pity; even if it was only ‘make-believe’.

As a stage performer it’s an incredible opportunity to live several ‘lifetimes’ and see things from perspectives you otherwise would never have the opportunity to experience.

Speaking of different perspectives, where do ‘trouser roles’ [male characters sung by women, a mezzo-soprano speciality] sit in your preferences?
I really love the trouser roles! As I mentioned before, it’s the roles that are furthest removed that offer the most insight and challenge, and what’s further away than playing a different gender? Usually with trouser roles you get to have an athletic and powerful physicality on stage, much less restrictive in terms of body-language than many of the female roles.

Historically, mezzos usually have what are called the “witches, bitches and britches” roles, so there’s plenty of scope for fun with those sorts of characters! And occasionally we get to play a romantic female lead, that’s fun too! 

Take us behind-the-scenes of a day in the life of a mezzo-soprano...
There is no typical ‘day-in-the-life’ really, which can be a double-edged sword! The variety is stimulating on the one hand, but the regularity of a six-week opera rehearsal schedule can be grounding too. I enjoy both. On the performing side of things, as a classical singer you could find yourself preparing for an oratorio concert with orchestra and choir, a liederabend with a pianist, or a big opera production.

For all of these different types of project, there’s a similar process — get the music; translate (if it’s in a language I don’t speak) and learn the text; get a feel for the arc of the piece as a whole, study and practice my part (which can take months, depending on the length and difficulty of the part, a bit like training for a 10k or a marathon); learn the parts of other singers who may be on stage with you; work on pronunciation (usually with a language coach); work on the music (sometimes with a vocal coach/pianist)… and that’s all before you ever get together with colleagues to rehearse! 

My favourite part of life as a singer is quite often the rehearsal room. In its best version, it’s this wonderful potential-laden space, where you don’t find yourself under the performance stress of a show or concert, and have the time and space to work through all the possibilities and try things out, without being aware of an audience. There’s nothing like the danger and excitement of live performance though!

@sharon.carty
@irishmezzo