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Interview
Soprano Dawn Padmore in Word & Song
There is a breadth and depth to Dawn Padmore that defies easy categorization. For those unfamiliar with her music, read no further without first seeing her in January '07 at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, DC, on the Millennium Stage with pianist composer Darryl Hollister performing West African art music. There are also music media files on her website. Hearing her sing Love Let The Wind Cry – ah.
I first heard Dawn sing at my father's memorial service on October 2, 2004, in Washington, DC, a month after his passing. She stood in for Hugh Masekela who had lived with my family during his early years of exile, but couldn't break an obligation on another continent to be there. I remember wondering if she could do with her voice what Masekela could do with his sax to soothe the spirit. Shattering the heavy silence, over the pregnant sniffles and sobs, her chiming voice gave sacred solace in that painful moment. I could almost feel my father ride the light.
A formidable talent, she's the got chops for an impressive, eclectic repertoire: African songs set to original music by West African and American composers, classical European opera, arias, contemporary world music, jazz, rock, strings, drums, piano, horns, full orchestra. She also sings Hip Hop. Wedded to Dawn's exquisite voice is her delightful personality and intuitive depth. She will tell you plainly that she's no Diva nor, a Prima Donna. There is a presence she carries though, a regality and self-composure that compel attention. She is warm, brilliant, incredibly humble, brimming with humor and music. These gorgeous, beautifully tender lyrics below are from her pen, inspired by music composed by Sean Noonan and Aram Bajakian:
I flew into the sweet dark night
And stars fell into my eyes.
The drowning moon in the valley deep
Left no room for me to hide.
So I dove into the sun’s light
In my eternal search
For you . . .
I stand in the pouring rain
I’ve lost my voice, my house,
My light.
My roadmap.
My heart it left,
My mouth won’t speak
My back – it hurts and weeps
And weeps.
All is still
No Sound
No Words
Yet my belly aches and
Yearns
For you . . .
But you – you sit there
And hold my breath
In your fingertips . . .
My Love . . .
. . . my love . . .
Yet you won’t see
Or find me Here
Still
For you . . .
Copyright © Dawn Padmore
STEPHANIE HORTON: Dawn, M-aisie, what does singing mean to you?
DAWN PADMORE: The thrill of reaching other people with what I've sung. Singing, to me, is an extension of speaking, almost an "uber"-verbal expression. It is what has to be done when speaking is not enough to express what has to be said – screaming, but controlled. While there are many sounds that emphasize what is being expressed, "ay, yah, mmh," and a number of songs out there that don't include actual "words," most songs do include text. Words are limiting because they have a beginning and an end in the way a pure sound doesn't. The human voice is more endless and infinite singing than speaking. If I'm singing to a Finnish group, they don't understand my words in English; they react to the sound. It's more than the language; it's the power of sound. When you add the human voice, the soul, the character, it expresses volumes. Singing redefined me. I found a way to express myself by becoming a singer. Opera is full of fantasy, full stories; it's the most dramatic kind of singing. I found I could do it pretty well. The most satisfying physical feeling for me is singing at the top of my lungs in a classical style.
STEPHANIE HORTON: Your beginnings. Let's see. You were in school at Hilton Van Ee, Bright's Functional, Lutheran School, Isaac A. David School, and ACS (American Cooperative School) for one year, 1979-80, right? Music teachers, piano: Mr. Dale from Voice of America (VOA), then Mrs. Maude Dennis.
DAWN PADMORE: Yes. I started on piano when I was four. Classical music was always a part of my life, singing, pretending I'm on the stage. I was, to my memory, a shy kid who played "pretend" games a lot, putting on my mom's lipstick and singing in front of the mirror for hours. My sister Shirley and cousin Wiatta had a made-up family modeled after the Brady Bunch, except they had ten kids – five girls and five boys.
STEPHANIE HORTON: (Laughs) For true?
DAWN PADMORE: I would sometimes pretend that I was a jetsetter business woman always in some hotel, talking on one of those Fisher-Price telephones that had the pop-up blonde operator (laughs). My dad is a real jazz buff so I grew up listening to pretty heady jazz music and other kinds of music, too. I'd say the person that had the biggest impact in my life was my Big Mummy, my dad's mom, Mai Padmore. She was a career woman, a mom, wife, grandmother, and a grand hostess. She was also doting.
STEPHANIE HORTON: How would you describe your artistry?
DAWN PADMORE: I was trained to sing Western traditional opera based on history; the styles, to sustain notes, cut through an orchestra, project my voice. I won a scholarship to get free voice lessons in college. Music was my minor at the time. I switched to a music major and went for a Master of Music in graduate school. I am an opera singer by the description of most people, but really I'm a classical singer. Opera, oratorio, recital, all are included. Interpretation and audience engagement are key to an artist's performance. I usually always work with a pianist. I have collaborated with American pianist Darryl Hollister on many concerts—in Martinique, England, Washington, DC, Boston—many other places. I also have worked with other musicians. It is a great experience as you have an instant support system and it's great making music together with others. I've been lucky to have worked with amazing musicians.
STEPHANIE HORTON: What would you say has been your greatest professional triumph as an artist?
DAWN PADMORE: Singing at the inauguration of President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf in 2006 was a great personal and professional accomplishment. I used to have others, but after that experience, I realize that everything else pales in comparison. It was the first time I had been in Liberia since 1987. The inauguration held the promise of a big political change and a change in the country overall. It was a huge turning point that I was so proud to be a part of.
STEPHANIE HORTON: Your performance commanded a well-deserved standing ovation. That must have been an unforgettable and pristine moment for you, both as an artist and as a daughter of Liberia. Warmest congratulations Dawn.
DAWN PADMORE: Thank you. It was the ultimate going back to the roots. I felt that all the years of training and auditioning had led me back to my own place. Nothing in my career compared. People were cheering. They came up to me after and said, "You made me too proud to be a Liberian today." I was still dreaming, because I sang for President Sirleaf in New York at the reception and fundraiser at Nubian Heritage on December 11, 2005. She personally extended a verbal invitation to me after my performance, to sing at her inauguration. That was an honor. Going back home was a seismic shift; a return to a part of myself. All of it happened after a really crazy year. I sang the national anthem and an Igbo song, a riddle, signifying one hand helping the other hand. It's a simple folk song arranged for voice and music that I sang without accompaniment.
STEPHANIE HORTON: Do you have models?
DAWN PADMORE: Well, I can't say I have a model. I like a number of performers. I love my voice teacher, Claudia Waite. Amazing soprano. I also love Bjork, Oumo Sangare, Baaba Maal, Leontyne Price, Mirella Freni, Montserrat Caballe, Dinah Washington, Sarah Vaughan, and Billie Holiday.
STEPHANIE HORTON: What personal beliefs or ideals do you hold and cherish that fuel your artistry?
DAWN PADMORE: I hope to do something that'll make my relatives and country proud. Leaving Liberia after the inauguration, as we got closer to the plane, I felt a wave of emotions that caught me completely off guard. It was such an incredible experience. My parents had heard me on the French news here in the States. They were so excited and proud. But for me the trip was a combination of excitement and sadness. For a while before that, I had been feeling a stronger desire to connect with my African roots, my Liberian heritage. I began working with composers from Sub-Sahara Africa to arrange and incorporate African music in my repertoire. Akin Euba, a composer with his own library of songs, arranged some of the first African songs I sang. I started to focus my career in that direction, to go where the path opened up, where I found my work and joy. I had to re-do my career.
STEPHANIE HORTON: You mention your trip home as being sad. Why was that so? Did something happen to you when you were at home then?
DAWN PADMORE: Even before then, I was beginning to feel like something was missing. I think it's a delayed reaction that a lot of people in my age group experience around the war.
STEPHANIE HORTON: Homelessness and exile? Not really belonging anywhere?
DAWN PADMORE: That, and figuring out what was most important to me; doing my own work. When I went home both in '87 and ‘06, it was disorienting. It was all different, dilapidated. I saw that it affected me. It has. I felt quite a bit like I didn't belong anywhere, like my childhood had never existed. It was not like I was looking down a black hole, but different . . . a big mourning. In America, I wasn't African American, I wasn't white. Going home brought all that up. I had been focusing on singing songs written by African composers. I've premiered pieces working with five composers from South Africa. I've sung in Yoruba, Igbo, Twi/Akan, and English, and have recently had the opportunity to sing in Xhosa, Zulu, and three other South African languages. I haven't sung in Afrikaans and don't plan to (laughs). One of my dream projects is to work with a composer and set Liberian poetry and oral music to sheet music. I'm interested in therapy through the arts instruction; a performance space in Liberia where any orchestra can come and perform. I sang at the Kennedy Center in January, all African music as a part of the Millennium Series. The first song I sang was by Liberian singer and songwriter Princess Hawa Daisy Moore. She had some songs, some she wrote, some she recorded, that I asked her permission to use. Some people are very proprietary about their work but she was really open. She sent me a tape which I sent to a friend, American composer and scholar Chandler Carter, to put on paper. Much of our music is not on paper, which is a problem. The songs in African languages have an added layer. The languages are tonal and that's another interesting thing as the melodies are written to "go with" the natural pitch of the songs. We need musicians to interpret and deliver the music, to preserve it. That's why it meant a lot to me to open my first recital at the Kennedy Center with a Vai song. I have Vai heritage from my father's mother. I knew my grandparents, all four of them. They were all buried in Liberia.
STEPHANIE HORTON: The trip home in 1987 seemed to crystallize for you what you needed to do to be yourself as an artist – to grow. That's powerful territory. It's almost as if we need a new language to describe that internal process and how it converges with self and identity. It's a moment of reckoning, a baptismal self-definition that brings us back to ourselves. There's haunting poetry in that, particularly when we consider how so many of us never make those connections, not to mention the devastation we awaken to. I find that throbbing in your lyrics, "I Flew Into the Sweet Dark Night." On the surface it seems to be about a lover, but I see it in other ways as being about the self—home—place. Exile and loss. Achingly true.
DAWN PADMORE: Yes. Poetry, combined with music, offers many layers and textures to what message is being conveyed. In song, the piano or other instrument can sometimes expound on, finish or uncover the true meaning of what the singer has just sung. Poetry and prose are also extensions of conversational speech and can sometimes express the symbolic meaning. One of my favorite poems that does this is "Africa" by Patricia Jabbeh Wesley:
The calabash
now shattered
her contents
spilled
like palm wine
across the regions
of the world.
STEPHANIE HORTON: Hearing this from you about Jabbeh Wesley's poem makes me think about how the artist, singular and rare, is a prism that we see a murky part of ourselves clearly reflected in. There are so many myths to demystify, in the way that Jabbeh Wesley's poem speaks to an African reality beyond geographical boundaries, not just the Liberian reality. One of the features of Monrovia culture is the merger of different languages and cultures—the colonial and the indigenous—in that one place. It's a Creole culture, a blending developed in Monrovia, one of the major language centers of West Africa. That is the hybridity we were born into, born with. Those of us in the West now have a tri-cultural identity. You seem to have a grasp of this and also a wider connection to other artists with the same experience and understanding. Tell us about your collaborations with other musicians in this context.
DAWN PADMORE: I recently formed a group with two other musicians called "ID-DINJA Ensemble." Id-dinja means "the world" in Maltese. Laura Falzon, our flutist, is from Malta. Jihea Hong, the pianist, is from Korea. I sing soprano. Our goal is to present classical music from all over the world along with works by contemporary American, European, Asian, and African composers. I was featured singing contemporary popular music on the track "Pineapple," on world/jazz drummer Sean Noonan's Brewed by Noon's "Stories to Tell" CD that came out in January of this year. I've worked with UK-based pianist Glen Inanga from Nigeria. We played to a standing ovation in the UK in the fall of 2006. I’ve worked in Canada with Bongani Ndodana, an amazing composer from South Africa on a number of concerts, including one at the Miller Theater in New York City last season. I hope to continue collaborating with Princess Hawa Daisy Moore and Chandler Carter on a set of Vai songs from Liberia. I recently provided the “hooks” on a Hip Hop CD for a group called “The Crown” made up of professional chefs from high-end restaurants in New York City.
STEPHANIE HORTON: Chefs? Hip Hop chefs?
DAWN PADMORE: No joke! I have worked with a lot of true blue professional musicians. Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to really “afford my singing career.” I'm not a super religious person in the traditional sense, but so many people have prayed and are praying for me.
STEPHANIE HORTON: One last question. Where do you see yourself in five years?
DAWN PADMORE: With a kid or two, married, and with a CD!
STEPHANIE HORTON: So be it. Thank you Dawn. Thanks for the rich, full responses. Love your expressiveness, your depth and energy. You are a delight to talk to and just a beautiful person all the way around. All I see are bright stars in your future dangling lovely notes. I see those notes soaring high over all Liberia and all of Africa, and further out into the world, like lyric cultural ambassadors. Congrats to you and continued triumph. I bow. And I'm waiting in line to buy the CD. I am so proud of you, your work, and how well you represent us on the world stage.
DAWN PADMORE: Thanks Stephanie. You are so fabulous. Thanks again for your interest and the interview. Thanks for including me.
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