Singer Matthew Duncan tells me about his own illness and the future of the art form he loves.
On Saturday, Matthew Duncan took his place in the Opera Holland Park chorus to sing publicly for the first time since February. The performers, all three metres apart, stood in a horseshoe around the audience of two hundred to sing the finale to Mascagni’s Iris, entitled Inno del Sole (Hymn to the Sun).
“Acoustically it was a real challenge; you couldn't even hear the person next to you,” he says. “We just hoped it would come out OK.”
The performance provided the climax to the company’s first concert series in the post-lockdown era, staged for a one-fifth capacity audience in the open air; all socially-distanced, of course.
“The piece is all about going from death, through rebirth and into the afterlife,” he tells me. “It’s very much relevant to the post-Covid era.”
Retiring General Director and founder, Michael Volpe, was emotional at the culmination of an evening of solo performances that replaced what should have been a full summer program of four operas. Though churches and schools are beginning to reopen, group singing is still banned. Before this opportunity came up, Duncan was unsure if he would sing again in 2020, and what the future had in store for Opera Holland Park.
“Chorus singing in particular has been seen as to blame for the spread of Covid,” he says. “It was really special to have this opportunity, and incredibly moving.”
For Duncan, the chance to see colleagues again, and to hear music played and sung live rather than through a computer and by such high-quality performers, has had a healing effect. It is the energy of live performance that is, he says, irreplaceable, and the audience on Saturday knew they were witnessing a special moment.
“I don't think I've been to a concert recently where everybody listened with such intent,” he says. “Part of it is being able to feel the energy of the people on stage.”
Replicating that feeling is something he will work at in his day job, teaching singing in schools across London. With group singing forbidden but guidance changing weekly, Duncan is hopeful schools will be able to find a way for students to continue to experience the power of singing together.
“Hearing other singers, being together, and that sense of creation – especially when you're singing in harmony – that forms a bond between you and everyone else in the room,” he says. “The children certainly pick up on it. There's a sense of excitement they tap into; it unifies them.”
Having been part of the weekend’s performance and seeing what is possible, Duncan is confident schools will make it work. Whether at distance in the sports hall or outside in the playground, he feels the need is greater than ever after a strange and subdued few months.
“[Singing] is so invigorating,” he says. “It elevates us above the monotony of our daily lives. It reminds us of what it is like to be human.”
Despite substantial government investment, there is a struggle ahead to keep the arts, and opera in particular, alive. Duncan is robust in refuting the suggesting that opera is an artform for a select group, and less worthy of saving than others.
“Opera was never intended for rich people, it was intended for everybody,” he says. “The Marriage of Figaro is all about the servants. The most intelligent and crafty character is [a servant] Susanna, and the most gullible and stupid is the Count.”
He points out the work that opera houses do to make the artform accessible, but acknowledges that, in the UK at least, opera has a reputation of being a “posh person's” entertainment; a reputation he feels is wrong.
“Everyone can empathise with the themes: love, compassion, and euphoria; loss, pain, anger and jealousy,” he says. “People who all speak different languages can watch a performance of Madame Butterfly and be reduced to tears. Music has that power.”
Opera can, of course, be very expensive; the “army of people you never see at the curtain call” as well as expert orchestral players and singers must be paid somehow.
“People forget with opera the singers don't use microphones,” Duncan says. “It takes years to build a voice that can carry over an orchestra. And every singer has to have a good working knowledge of Italian, French, German, Russian. They’re highly skilled people, and they weren't born with it. They work their arses off.”
Duncan has done his bit to break down the perception that opera is for the old and rich. Last year a group of schools in Newham took on the ambitious project of staging an opera conceived, written and performed by students under the guidance of professionals. The spectacle, entitled Full Circle, was chosen to close the Music For Youth Prom at the Royal Albert Hall, with a combined orchestra and choir of six-hundred-and-fifty.
“I just helped teach some of the kids the songs,” he says. “But the project was incredible. It means ‘opera’ is not a stuffy word anymore, it's something very accessible. And performing at a world-class venue, that's something they’ll never forget. It is an incredible experience.”
When he speaks of the restorative, healing power of the music, Duncan is being less figurative than one might think. In late March, he decided to be cautious and not travel to see his mother for her birthday. That day he was floored by Coronavirus.
“I was still going in and out of schools that whole week, extremely anxious and not knowing if and when I would be able to earn again,” he recounts. “I guess it was a scramble to keep earning until schools were physically closed. It was a really stressful week.”
He suffered the full suite of symptoms; chills, a headache that lasted ten days, dizziness, fever, and even a strange buzzing in his hands. And there was the cough, and the feeling that he had someone sitting on his chest. Scared, he barely left his flat for a month, struggling even to get to the bathroom. Friends supported him with food deliveries but just going for a coffee could wipe him out for days with exhaustion. Eventually he spoke to his GP.
“The doctor said they're still learning about Covid, and there's this term being used – ‘long-haulers’ – for the thousands of us with post-viral fatigue,” he says. “She told me to build my activity up incrementally. If I push it, I’ll go right back to square one again.”
Saturday’s concert left him drained, and some days he can go out, whereas others he is stuck in bed feeling like those people are sitting on his chest again. He is now participating in a longitudinal study being carried out by a group at University College London.
“There are a couple of support groups for the long-haulers on Facebook; thousands of people who got sick in March and have ongoing symptoms they can't shake,” he says.
Singing opera is not exactly a desk job, and his trouble breathing left Duncan, for a time, fearing for his future. But throughout lockdown he continued to teach over Zoom, and Saturday’s performance proved to him that he can still sing. There was even time to take part in an online community project run by musician, Aga Serugo-Lugo, entitled Set Opera Free. The project paired musicians unable to perform live to compose and create two-minute videos. There was no brief on content, and Duncan was paired with pianist-composer Iain Farrington.
“Iain is one of the most phenomenally talented people I've never met,” he says. “I’ve only spoken to him on the phone.”
Duncan suggested subject matter for their piece that included a beautiful garden where he often goes to relax and feel uplifted. For Farrington, they needed something a bit more attention grabbing.
“It just happened that my colleague, Sara, posted something saying pubs are open but theatres closed, and how ironic that was,” he says. “It was tongue-in-cheek, but I sent it to Iain, and it was the perfect material.”
A few hours later, Duncan received the score for a new mini-aria, The pubs are open! But the theatres are closed… He sang the part into his phone, Farrington recorded the piano, and they posted it on YouTube. Now, in the spirit of Set Opera Free, other composers are working on part two of the idea.
“It's a bit like an opera relay race,” he says. “Someone else can take the baton and follow, so it's an unfolding story all the time.”
The project was fun, and provided him a platform to create and perform, but he is nervous for the future of the form he loves, and for his ability to continue teaching and performing with his ongoing symptoms. Singing at Opera Holland Park last weekend, online teaching, and messing about mocking the easing of lockdown have gone well so far, but when everyday bustle returns he is not sure if he will cope.
“Singing one aria was possible, but to do a full day rehearsing and performing I think I would really struggle,” he says. “It hasn’t affected my voice, but my energy levels and ‘brain fog’ are a problem. I sometimes start a sentence and then forget what I'm saying. Hopefully schools will be able to show some flexibility.”
And he is determined that group singing and live concerts will return.
“Standing on the Jubilee Line is meant to be safer than singing? I really struggle with that,” he says. “To be in the presence of someone and feel the healing energy; you can only get through live performance. We need it.”
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Find Matthew at https://www.matthewduncanbaritone.com/
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