Leandros Taliotis Baritone at St Martin’s Church, Kensal Rise, London
Let the re-build begin…
A London Opera singer discusses resetting himself after a life-defining medical event
I guess the start was 7 June 2023 when I was admitted to Charing Cross Hospital the day before my surgery. A month prior I’d suffered a seizure at home early one morning: A rather dramatic and, naturally, worrying episode for my wife and son. The cause was a large benign brain tumour, pushing into my frontal lobe that had likely been growing for years, if not decades. It was now time for the major procedure to remove the offending article.
Would I or wouldn’t I sing again?
Fuelled by trepidation and fear of the unknown, several thoughts entered my mind. Among them was whether or not I’d be able to sing again following the procedure. This was not a conversation I had with my doctors. Frankly it was clear that there were more important matters at stake.
Yet I must confess that considering this issue sparked mixed emotions:
· On the one hand, pulling through, being tumour-free and being able to live a ‘normal’ life, present for my family and friends, was good enough.
· On the other, the prospect of losing the ability to pursue the artform I love and express myself through singing was both sad and frightening.
The day after surgery I felt overwhelmingly positive. Euphoric in fact. It’s likely that some of this was fuelled by anaesthesia, pain meds and steroids. But against all odds I was able to get up on my feet and start looking forward to the rest of my life. For the first time since my twenties, the world was my oyster!
A few days later, whilst loafing around (convalescing) at home, I couldn’t help myself and tried singing a few phrases. There were two main takeaways from this:
1. Singing with a fresh, 14cm scar on one’s head is painful and, thus, pretty misguided.
2. I could actually still sing! Hallelujah!
Considering observation no.1, I gave singing a rest for a few weeks and instead spent my days enjoying the cafés and open spaces of Kensal Rise, my lovely, friendly and, dare I say it, cool neighbourhood in inner London. My wonderful, supportive wife was constantly present and the sun shone most of the time. When it didn’t, I busied myself upping my home espresso game with my beautiful classic Italian lever machine: A birthday/happy to be alive (mid-life crisis?) present from me to me.
The good news brought by observation no.2 was that getting back to singing was only a matter of time.
Leandros Taliotis Baritone enjoying café life in Kensal Rise, London, albeit a few months later…
London opera singer gets back in the saddle
The biggest challenge here was being patient. I’ve been in this game long enough to know that this is key to getting back to vocal fitness. In fact, I’ve taught hundreds of fledgling singers over the years who have had to endure my moans on the subject. Yet I’m ashamed to say that the adage ‘do what I say, not what I do’ applied in this instance.
I think excitement got the better of me. I was engaged in a conflict between doing careful, patient work on the one hand and ticking off repertoire on my bucket list on the other. Sure, it’s always a pleasure to warm-up with a spot of ‘accent method’ and a few lip trills. They always get the body, breath and vocal folds going. But maybe going straight into ‘Cortigiani’ from Verdi’s Rigoletto is a bit extreme.
Leandros Taliotis Baritone. ‘Caught in the act’ with Verdi’s Rigoletto. In Brixham, South Devon.
My family and I travelled to south Devon for a couple of weeks, a regular bolt hole of ours. I was feeling fragile and, unusually, missed home. But one of the highlights for me was spending time singing through some Verdi whilst looking out to sea. I took the opportunity to do this every time my wife and son went for a cold dip (citing medical reasons for not joining them…). I even calmed down my repertoire choices, relatively speaking, revisiting Rodrigo’s death scene from Don Carlo. Also by Verdi, of course (it seems a theme is developing…) but a much more sensible choice at this stage!
This was all very enjoyable, but it was time to seek professional input. So, with trepidation, I emailed my long-term teacher and mentor Russell, who I hadn’t seen in a long time. He responded quickly and with characteristic kindness and enthusiasm and booked-in a lesson for my return to London. It was time for that focused, structured and patient work to begin in earnest. More about this next time…
In the meantime, thank you very much for indulging me recounting this extraordinary life event and, dare I say it, watershed moment.