Fiction Audiobook Narration
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
Italian (General) North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM) North American (US Mid-Atlantic)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
when, after four years I received my certificate of completion, Maestro Pedercini suggested we celebrate by spending the summer in his native Milan. I wasn't particularly interested in spending the next three months in his flabby embrace, but that was before he informed me that he'd arranged for my audition with the company of the T A Tro Alla Scala. The next thing I knew, I was drinking cafe espresso, eating polio, alla Caccia, Torah and practicing my Verdi. The audition turned out to be very similar to the competitions in which I had sung at the conservatory, the exception being that there were far fewer people scrutinizing my performance. My slight nervousness at the beginning evaporated the moment I heard my own voice issuing forth with its usual power and effortlessness. I wasn't shy and demonstrating my extensive range in excess of two octaves, nor my precise control. In coming out of a perfect tremolo, I allowed my voice first to reverberate throughout the house and then to fade to that exquisite high pianissimo that I knew to be the envy of every soprano at school. When I'd finished, I was almost sorry to be concluding the audition, but remembered to sink into the deep, stylized curtsy I'd practiced before a mirror ignorant of the odds against my being selected to join a major company straight out of conservatory. I was annoyed beyond measure that as a result of said Audition, I was admitted only as a member of the chorus. I demanded immediately that my maestro take me back to our cottage and teach me whatever it was I had failed to learn, forcing him to continue working me until he surely must have regretted bringing me to Milan with fierce determination. I worked for the rest of the summer, heedless of the torturers transformation. My once delightful rehearsals had undergone my teacher to, made miserable by the demands I imposed not only on myself, but on him, begged me to ease up. But his feeble protests only goaded me to stricter measures. I fully expected him to be relieved when August came and he had to return to Paris. So I must say, I was more than a little surprised when he came to me, bags packed and asked me to return with him. Why, I asked, wasn't the plan for me to get a few years experience here. You don't need experience, he said with an odd desperation in his voice. You're ready now. There is no one anywhere who can sing as you can.