2025 Richard Tucker Gala in Review: The Minstrelsy Ensues
Last weekend, Angel Blue became the first black woman to receive the coveted prize from The Richard Tucker Music Foundation. Additionally, this year’s concert marked the first gala since 2019.
And yet for the first time in decades, there was no live broadcast of the concert, nor was it recorded.
Surely the foundation would want to document a historic evening like this. Surely they were assuming no one would notice the negligence, the disrespect.
Surely they were mistaken.
From what I could tell, there was only one review of the historic gala— and it hardly spoke to the truth.
So, I am writing my own. Let’s dive in …
Personally, I find the Tucker Gala to be the most despicable and desirable night in American Opera — and that is exactly why I attend. It’s a wonderful reminder of what opera means to those who largely fund this imperial tradition, while the singing is usually good enough to briefly distract you from the unsavory crowd.
So, at 7 p.m. on a frigid Sunday night, I rushed into the Delta Sky Lounge I mean…the New David Koch theater at Lincoln Center, ready to witness history. In a sea of white faces, I was grateful to be seated next to the great soprano Laquita Mitchell, and countertenor Key’mon Murrah — with whom I felt safe enough to experience the evening with my guard down. Richard Tucker’s son opened with a forgettable speech that lacked a single mention of the historical significance of the night. (Although, hearing him boast about it could have been worse). After the babbling, the concert quickly began and Angel Blue graced the stage in a florescent satin gown, taking a stoic profile stance before opening her mouth to sing “Vissi d’Arte”.
At once, it was clear why she had won the prize, and even better, she hadn’t won because she was the victim of some pitiful attempt at affirmative action. No. It was abundantly clear that Angel Blue was a world-class artist, and we were deeply fortunate to hear her sing.
However, by the end of the concert…it was unfortunately not clear who we were in fact celebrating.
Christian Van Horn and Stephen Costello sang more than twice, boring me to the point of counting chorus members. And some Italian soprano that I had never heard of sang once too many times for me. While Angela Meade practically stole the show with her dramatic rendition of “Vivi, ingrato a lei d’accanto…Quel sangue versato”. (In fact, Meade was the only singer to receive a standing ovation, in part due to the highly theatrical material she presented by Donizetti). Her ravishing performance made me wonder why Angel, the supposed star of the show, was only given one aria, two lackluster duets, and a Verdi finale that consumed her.
Tell me how could Angel present herself as a consummate artist with something fresh to contribute to opera…when a Porgy and Bess duet between her and the phenomenal Ryan Speedo Green reduced them to nothing but a tired disappointing trope?
I couldn’t help but flinch when the crippled buck lunged for the coke whore’s arm. “Git yo hans off me, I’s gon miss dat boat!” she sang, as I let out a deep ancestral sigh, sliding further into the crevasse of seat. Meanwhile, the couple in front of me sat with their withered spines erect, salivating over every last drop of the sick, sad trope.
The decision to include a duet from Porgy and Bess speaks volumes. “Yeah, we’ll give the pretty negress the top prize…but she’s gonna have to coon for it first.” Harsh, I know but essentially that is the trade-off for most black singers with a desire to be “successful” in American opera. In many ways, you can be a big star, and casting directors will praise you for your colorful, rich voice — “You’re perfect for this new role! You sound just like Jessye Norman! Can you sing Summertime for us please?”
So, you cash the check, bite your tongue, and play the finger-snapping Mammy with a pistol in her purse, or the ghost of Freddie Grey — just praying you’ll one day be asked to play some make-believe fairy queen instead, free from the immense burden of portraying the plight of every African American that ever lived.
But apparently, that day is far from today, being that the Richard Tucker Prize is currently considered the most prestigious opera award in the country…and still, right here in progressive New York City…the minstrelsy ensues, (and with great enthusiasm from what I could surmise by the roaring final applause).
I flew out of the sky lounge, I mean hall…trying to gather a sense of pride in my people for achieving such a feat, but it was all too fleeting. I wondered…why is it important to celebrate the awards given to us by the very same entities that actively work to suppress us anyhow? Still unpacking that one…Thankfully, cocktails with colleagues at The Empire rooftop bar served as a temporary balm to the carnival of human misery we endured.
The sweet respite ended all too soon when I overheard a rumor that Angel Blue had selected her own repertoire. How could this be? It would be much easier to blame some malevolent music director…but no, the saboteur was the soprano herself. And therein lies a darker truth waiting to be unpacked.
It seems that even in lieu of the autonomy “granted” to us by these institutions — many prominent black singers still perpetuate the very same tropes we have been trying to dismantle since the early days of minstrelsy in the 1830s. Why is this? Could we chalk it up to fear, habit, or ignorance? The idea of voluntary minstrelsy plagues me and reminds me of the great Bert Williams, who became the greatest vaudevillian actor in American history for performing in blackface…as a black man.
Regardless of whether or not the rumor is true — all in all, we had a great night, because isn’t that what we have slowly conditioned ourselves to do? In spite of the foolery, we still show up because we love music. In spite of the crowd, we long to make our lives briefly beautiful with song. We show up because we see the bigger picture.
Now, of course, there was also much to celebrate from the night’s concert, but you can read about that elsewhere. Frankly, there are too many people falsifying congratulations, and not enough telling the crucial truth. Soley celebrating these accomplishments and opportunities for black people in opera without being equally and openly critical of them is dangerous.
So, what do I suggest as a remedy to Sunday’s PR disaster? Well, I’d have to send you an invoice for that. How do you think the foundation could have done better? Did you attend? If so, what were your thoughts? I’d like to know — send me a message!
Sincerely,
Joshua
Additional Notes
- The night was also made especially memorable by tenor, Russell Thomas who sang with intense virtuosity. It’s a real shame the concert wasn’t recorded.
- There was a dinner before and afterward which I did not attend, so there may have been fanfare that I was not aware of.
- I attended the 2019 gala for Nadine Sierra and there was no doubt about who we had come to hear.
- I am aware of Angel’s decision to pull out of a production of “La Traviata” in Italy this summer, that involved the use of blackface. So it is clear that she is not interested in portraying herself as a trope. Still, I wonder what her motivation was in choosing to present a Gershwin scene.