Today was a bit rough for me, though extremely productive for the artists and for the project as a whole. We ran all the songs (with one exception, at Will Kim’s request), worked in detail on everything, and even had time for a Skype call with Jean-Paul Björlin to review the Swedish lyrics in the first two numbers. Jean-Paul was happy with everyone’s pronunciation, and went the extra mile to lift the diction from the merely correct into the realm of the expressive—razor-sharp double-consonants, alliterations that take the song from black and white to Technicolor. In the process we learned what a difference an umlaut can make: there are two Swedish words with very similar pronunciation, and one of them happens to be the F-bomb. The other, of course, is the word that turns up in our song—which will obviously demand a bit of precision on the part of Anna Maria Vacca. The things you learn during a Caramoor residency.

Many remarkable moments today, most of them involving taking our cast just past their comfort zone and into the next level of their potential. Will Kim was singing Schubert’s “Der Zwerg” in the bass key, and I felt sure it would work better in the version for “middle voice.” I asked him about it and he said that the higher key had a section that was not comfortable. But I knew that the lower key ended on a low note that Will didn’t have all the time. “When was the last time you tried it in a-minor?” “Oh, some time ago, when I was learning it. I sang it once.” “Would you humor me and try it again?” He quietly agreed—and it became obvious that he was able to tell the story with greater vocal charisma in the baritone key. I don’t like to be an arm-twister, but Béné backed me up and Will agreed to tackle it in a-minor, which was Schubert’s original key for the song.

I hadn’t been having a great day, and felt myself careening into an energy vacuum after lunch. I decided to hand the proceedings off to Bénédicte for a bit while I went off to meditate for about 45 minutes. My normal modus operandi is to pretend I’m Superman and push through. But accepting my humanity turned out to be a smart move. When I returned, I was more alert and far more cheerful than I had been all week, and playing a whole lot better.

This year’s group is more serious, less exuberant, than any of the ones we’ve invited in recent years. They are just a couple of years older, but the slight age difference seems to change the vibe more than I would have anticipated. When we see them in the morning they don’t regale us with funny stories about making dinner together or playing board games. The atmosphere is more studious. Some of this is connected to their concern about memorization, which they brought up yesterday and again this afternoon. Today we gave them permission to use their music (at least in the Caramoor performance) for the many duets in the show, as long as the quartets and the solo songs were off-book. I assumed, incorrectly it seems, that everyone would understand that we expected them to memorize everything. But Béné and I are not in the business of making singers anxious, and it was clear that this would let them relax, breath deeply, and release their artistic souls.

If our 2026 Rising Stars are a bit more sober than in previous years, that doesn’t mean they are less emotional or less warm. We ended the day with our encore, that American tune I mentioned yesterday, a song which I feared they’d find corny and hackneyed. We’re rounding the corner into the last 16 bars and Nathan misses an entrance. We keep going, and he misses another, and then a third. Obviously he’s dropped out of the song, and I look over and say, “Nathan, you OK?” I then notice he is crying.

This particular song has a special meaning in his life; it’s become a kind of anthem for him and his wife encapsulating their move to New York, his career switch from business to singing, and their commitment to one another. They just celebrated an anniversary, and she presented Nathan with a watch engraved with a lyric from this very piece.

He tried to explain this, but he really couldn’t talk. I too am very prone to tears, and I understood—and loved him for the beautiful, vulnerable heart he shared with us. It capped a day that had taken me pretty low, but brought me back to life by the double-bar.

Photos, from top: Will Kim and Anna Maria Vacca; Shiyu Zhuo and Nathan Ramportl

Caramoor’s Terrance W. Schwab Vocal Rising Stars program is made possible by generous support from the Terrance W. Schwab Endowment Fund for Young Vocal Artists.
The Merkin Hall performance is underwritten by Eileen Caulfield Schwab.