Elly Sara Ameling, bless her, came to the SF Conservatory of Music tonight
to give a master class, and she presented in "real life" exactly what
she has given us in concerts and on record.

Hers is a silvery, bright, lithe, pure voice, used with uncanny expressive
power, one that goes straight to the heart and stays there. Ameling, the
teacher, has a delightfully light touch, but she commands attention,
makes points economically and memorably, and she gets results.

At 70 - looking not a day over 50 - the soprano is gloriously alive:
focussed, purposeful, energetic, no-nonsense (she *is* Dutch, you see),
funny, witty, and she charms the paint off the walls without any effort
at all.

As she always has with audiences, Ameling makes immediate, intense
contact with the students. When Kindra Scharich, a mezzo working on
Faure's "Clair de lune," nods vigorously, the teacher says, with mock
resignation, "you say yes, yes, but will you do what I say?" Scharich
no longer expresses agreement, but concentrates on correcting the phrase.

The young student has a fine voice, but the delivery is mechanical, "heavy."
Ameling explains the nature of that 19th century garden party, and that
"it's elegant, charming, but not real love like Brahms would express."
Scharich's phrasing changes, lightens.

"Not too heavy," Ameling says, "it's French-sad, lighter than German
sadness." She holds the microphone away and she sings the phrase in a
voice surprisingly, delightfully young and clear. The diction is incredible.
When Ameling sings or speaks French, your high-school memories suddenly
intensify to qualify you for performing Moliere.

She advises "soft singing" on occasion, although not to compensate for
tempo correction: "softer is not slower," but she reminds the students
that audiences tend to pay more attention: "soft singing opens the ears."

Ameling briefly but forcefully outlines the cultural context of the song,
mentioning paintings by Jean-Antoine Watteau and poems by Paul Verlaine,
urging the student to bring more nostalgia and yearning into the
performance. Listen to great performances, she says, Gerard Souzay above
all.

When a tenor makes a stab at Duparc's "Le Manoir de Rosamonde," Ameling
asks for more intensity, drama. "This is opera," she says, "don't think
in lieder we cannot sing loud and with drama." (I wonder if she heard
Karita Mattila's Rachmaninoff on Sunday - *that* was opera, no, operissimo.)
It's a bit surprising to hear that from Ameling because in her long,
illustrious career, she appeared in only one opera, "Idomeneo."

Ameling counsels against making both wovels and consonants too soft:
"when you do that, the word just disappears." Legato, she says, should
be not only a "bound line," but it must be sung evenly, without "little
bellies" sticking out of the phrase.

She notes the excellent German of soprano Yoosun Park, who is singing
Schubert's "Im Fruhling," and when the student says she has made a special
study of the language, Ameling laughs: "You must have listened to the
right recordings."

She tells the singer and the accompanist that they are both best friends
and competitors, investing the pianist with the responsibility for dynamic
changes because "from Bach to Schubert, composers never marked the
singer's scores, putting all the p's and f's into the instruments' parts."
I wonder what young singers make of that, coming from a singer, as it
is.

When Park makes "one of those magic changes to A major," Ameling frowns
on the effort. "When you make an effect, make it 150%," she says. Ameling
is a teacher who follows her own advice.

Janos Gereben/SF
www.sfcv.org
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