In May you’re singing Aida for the first time. What does the role mean to you?
For me AIDA is one of the loveliest operas out there. Verdi’s melodies literally get under your skin; you can’t block them out. AIDA was one of the first operas I heard as a kid and I was totally hooked. I remember getting a recording of it when I was 12 or 13 and wanting to listen to it over and over again. It’s amazing to actually be getting the chance to sing it years later. It really affects you when you get to be part of such a gorgeous work and to kind of become one with the music as a singer.

When did you realise you were ready for a role like this?
Aida is not the kind of part that you sign up to without a second thought. You need to have reached a level of technical maturity. I grew into Verdi gradually, over time, singing Leonora in LA FORZA DEL DESTINO and the soprano in his REQUIEM, which was a good grounding. Aida is one of the most challenging soprano parts in all of opera, because it’s so dramatic and powerful and yet also calls for delicacy on the part of the singer. You’ve got to strike a balance between the two poles.

What’s your way of approaching a new role?
First off, I sing the role through in its entirety – just to get a feel for the music. Then I go to work on the bits that are trickiest, technically speaking. Only then do I get to the moment of truth: I go through the lyrics asking myself what it is that I want to communicate with this role. What does it mean for me on a personal level? What shades of meaning do I want to work into it? Onstage singing is for me a sort of confession – but also in the sense of a confession of faith.

Are there are there any moments as Aida that you find particularly moving?
Mmm, »O patria mia«, when Aida’s reflecting on her homeland and yearning to return. I’ve been living in Germany for 20 years now, but my formative years were spent in Uzbekistan. Deep inside me are memories of places, smells, colours. Obviously my situation is not the same as Aida’s, because she’s prevented from ever going back, but I know what it is to pine for a place that you’ve loved.

That sounds like a very personal path into the role. To what extent have other sopranos’ interpretations of Aida informed your own?
It goes without saying that I’m familiar with recordings of Leontyne Price, Montserrat Caballé or Aprile Millo. They’re all legends who’ve influenced me. It’s often the little things that stick, like a short phrase by Caballé which always gives me goose pimples. But at the end of the day it’s not about copying someone else. Every voice and shade and personality is different. I always try to make a role my own as much as possible. The audience should be getting my Aida, not the generic Aida.

Aida is a woman trapped between identity, homeland and family loyalty. Is this a story that is at all relevant to the present day?
Absolutely. We lead privileged existences, but many women are forced to choose between family and personal liberty – or worse still, who don’t get to choose at all and can’t follow their own destiny. I don’t think that’ll ever change while humans are still around. Which is precisely why this opera is so touching.

Benedikt von Peter’s production takes in the entire auditorium. The chorus is spread among the audience, there’s a runway jutting as far as the eighth row. What’s your angle on all that?
I love the production! Every time it has a run I catch at least two performances. And I take all my friends with me, because in my view you’ve just got to see it. When you’re sitting there and someone next to you suddenly stands up and starts singing – total ‘Wow!’ moment! That’s why I’m so looking forward to experiencing the whole thing from the vantagepoint of the stage. Walking out amidst the audience, getting so close, it’ll be an absolute first for me. And then the sound of the chorus singing in front of me instead of behind. I’m guessing it’s really, really intense.