When a coach tells you that there’s really not a lot more he can say or do to help you, you probably react one of three ways.  First, you probably panic.  “I’m so terrible,” you think, “there’s no hope for me.  I should just quit now!”  Well, that’s nonsense so you pull yourself together and try option two.  You puff up your chest, fake-shine your nails on your (probably non-existent) lapel, and think to yourself, “Self, you’re the coolest thing since [insert name of favorite famous opera singer].”  Alternatively, because let’s face it, the chest-puffing-nail-shining technique isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, you might go for option three and convince yourself the coach is just dumb and somehow got where he is on his good looks or his connections, or that she’s hung over and just doesn’t have the energy to correct you.  Yet if those same words come out of Martin Katz’s mouth, like me you probably gulp, ask him if he really means it, slowly begin to smile from ear to ear, and in the smallest way start to believe that yes, you may actually be on the right track.  

My few sessions with Martin Katz, the 1998 winner of Musical America’s “Accompanist of the Year” award, opened my eyes in a new way to music and I think of him often when I sing.  Rarely have I worked with someone so entirely open to discussion, so devoted to his work that it practically seeps out of his pores, and yet so approachable that bursting into laughter when you unceremoniously crack on a high A seems much more appropriate than showering him with embarrassed apologies.  Simply put, his extensive knowledge coupled with his friendly willingness to engage in artistic dialogue is inspiring and enlightening. 

Having worked closely with some of the most famous singers of the last 30 years including Marilyn Horne, Frederica von Stade, Kiri Te Kanawa, Kathleen Battle, Cecilia Bartoli, and José Carreras, and currently a professor of collaborative piano, vocal repertoire teacher, vocal coach, and conductor at the University of Michigan, Martin Katz is something of a celebrity in the vocal world.  Just the other day I heard a student try out a new cadenza at the end of an aria.  She asked her (very well-known) teacher her opinion.  This is what I heard: “It’s good.  I like it.  But you should ask Marty Katz.  If he says it’s alright, go with it.  If he says it’s too much, I’d make some changes.”  

Most people understand that singers employ vocal teachers (though I’m sure they’d be horrified to know how much we pay them!), and they also understand that an opera must have a director and a conductor.  But not much more.  So I decided to try and demystify the role of the vocal coach, since s/he is truly vital to the refinement of a singer, whether that singer be working in the opera, Lied, musical theater, or other vocal discipline.  Who better to ask than the master coach himself?
To begin with I asked Martin a simple question, or so I thought: Could he please give an overview of what a coach does.  “My answer to that,” he chuckles, “is: what does a coach not do?  A coach is an external pair of ears, he helps the singer with issues of language (domestic and foreign), accuracy of rhythm, pitch, and style, and can also offer technical advice.  A coach is everything rolled into one: Mommy, Daddy, shrink, pal, and school marm!”  So you see, they don’t really do too much!

You might be able to liken a coach to an interior decorator who inserts personality into an already sturdy and/or creative architectural structure.  Of course a coach cannot take the place of a vocal teacher (here understood to be the provider of vocal architectural structure), even if he or she has wonderful tips about how to improve the technical delivery of a note or phrase.  Their work is complementary to a teacher’s, though it is less about technical precision and more about implementing that technique, kind of like polishing and packaging a product for delivery.  A coach is also a conductor’s right hand man.  “Ultimately everyone wants the best performance out of a singer,” says Martin, “so a singer should never be put in the middle with a conductor asking for one thing and the coach for another.”  Ideally coach and conductor meet before rehearsals start to determine if they have the same vision for the piece and for the particular singer.  The coach should prepare the singer to be flexible and ready for anything, in case the conductor or director changes his mind mid-way through the rehearsal process.

Coaches must be able to work in many different capacities and with varied repertoire, though of course some specialize in opera, for example, while others might prefer to work with song repertoire.  Martin doesn’t have a favorite type of repertoire.  “What I love about what I do is that no day is the same.  One day I could be coaching La traviata, the next I could be working on a song recital, and then a student might bring me a Sondheim song.”  He has a particularly personal relationship to song repertoire, though, since it’s something he’s experienced first hand, on an instrument he plays, and with all the accompanying nerves and anxieties.  “I don’t have the physical memory of opera in the same way,” he remarks after some thought.  “Opera comes out of my brain more than out of my metabolism.”  A magnificent way to put it, I think. 

Ultimately coaching is about much more than simply teaching or imparting information; it’s about providing informed guidance so the singer can allow a piece to flourish in her particular voice.  It’s about connecting through music on a more profound level.  Teachers should be able to provide the solid technical foundation upon which a singer can build his or her artistry.  As a coach, Martin’s role is to help that singer implement that technique, to connect the text and the music to his own personality in a stylistically appropriate manner.  

As a team, they’ll chip away at the true meaning of the text, and Martin will make sure the student understands all the nuances of a particular word or phrase.  Then he’ll refer back to the music.  “Ok, that was good, but listen to what the piano telling you here.  Think about where you’re going with that phrase, and what comes next.  Can you prepare it better not just with your breath but also by brightening that ah vowel a bit.  Get right to the vowel sound, don’t get stuck on the consonant at the beginning of the word because you’ll shut down the sound that way, and then try to keep that same vowel position as you head into the next phrase.  It’ll also help with the pitch which was a bit under last time … Great!  See the difference?  I could really understand the text that time and your F was perfectly in tune!”

Martin feels that “in art song a listener can hear the words more clearly because the singer isn’t overpowered by an orchestra.  Even the sounds of poetry, particularly in the French language, make the music itself, much more so than in opera.”  Language is of course important in opera, too, since it is the foundation to storytelling, but opera has so many other resources at its disposal – the set, costumes, personal interactions, props, super-titles, etc. – so it takes on a special meaning in song repertoire.  In today’s world, though, “opera is King,” he says, and audiences have become accustomed to much more stimulation than that which is available from a recital.  “People used to be happy sitting in a salon and listening to an evening of Schubert songs, but nowadays, our senses are bombarded and over-stimulated all the time.  We’ve become so reliant on multi-media outlets that the idea of watching a singer standing in the curve of piano without a costume is impossible to today’s audiences.”  
Martin is of course equally comfortable coaching a student in the early stages of development and accompanying or discovering music with old friends, like Frederica von Stade, who is his contemporary.  When he speaks to ‘Flicka’ he says it’s like “speaking to a twin rather than a student,” adding that “the best established artists remain flexible and are open to new ideas.”

Many of them choose to work with Martin solely as accompanist, of course, since they know they can rely on his impeccable technique and artistic precision.  “When Cecilia Bartoli called me and asked me to accompany her in recital, I knew she wasn’t asking me to help her with her Italian diction or coach her in Se tu m’ami,” Martin jokes.  All jokes aside, though,  we all know Ms. Bartoli could have had her pick of accompanists!  Young students, however, tend to be more interested in soaking up his vast knowledge of repertoire and ideas about stylistic interpretation, and listening in awe as he plays just about anything in the standard repertoire (and so much more) from memory!
Even for someone like Martin who has seen it all and played with the best of the best, there’s still that initial moment of anxiousness when he first meets a new singer.  “You obviously want them to like you and like your playing and you want to like them back,” he says, because the connection between coach and singer – especially if they are able to perform together as well – goes far beyond technique and learning to a new and much more fulfilling place: creation.  That moment dissipates soon, though, because in the end it’s really about artists “bonding through music.”