Nicholas Phan
Opera Singer
Nicholas Phan is a Chinese-American tenor and music educator originally from Ann Arbor, MI, currently based in San Francisco. In 2025, he won a Grammy for Best Opera Recording for his starring role on Kaija Saariaho’s Adriana Mater. As a graduate of the University of Michigan, he’s sung with symphonies and operas around the world. The Boston Globe described him as “one of the world’s most remarkable singers.”
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Growing up not seeing much Asian representation in the opera/classical music world, now, he’s paving the way to make the industry more inclusive for others with Asian descent or from the Midwest. In 2010, he co-founded the Collaborative Arts Institute of Chicago (CAIC), a nonprofit that promotes vocal chamber music in Chicago. He is a board vice president of the Asian Opera Alliance. In 2020, his blog post “Just Another Dumb Asian Singer” made waves in the opera world.
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This interview was edited for length and clarity. It took place on March 21, 2025.
Credit: Clubsoda Productions
Q: Tell me about your journey to being an opera singer.
NP: I grew up in Ann Arbor, MI. My mom is Greek-American. My dad is from Indonesia, ethnically Chinese. Like many Asian parents, my parents pushed me to do music because they valued the discipline and thought it would look good on my Harvard application. For my 4th birthday, my dad gave me a violin, and I started learning through the Suzuki method. I joined choir later. But I hated music at first.
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It wasn’t until I joined orchestra that a lightbulb went off for me. I realized that music had a social and community aspect to it, that making music with others could be fun. At 11, I suddenly got really passionate about classical music. My dad is a big classical music fan so music was something we bonded over. I would dig through his big CD library and discover new music. When I was 12, I told my Dad I wanted to be a musician. He was like: “You could also be a doctor or engineer.” He didn’t take me super seriously (a 12-year-old saying he wanted to do music for the rest of his life), but I kept pursuing music.
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In high school, I got bit by the drama bug, and that’s how I discovered I had a voice. I went to Interlochen Arts Camp in northern Michigan and did both their orchestra and musical theater program. I realized that musical theater wasn’t for me because I loved classical music too much. I also realized I was a better singer than a violinist.
For college, I really wanted to go to music school. My parents were resistant at first, but I persevered and won. I ended up at the University of Michigan since I had a voice teacher that was a professor there. Post-grad, I did a young artist program at an opera company called the Glimmerglass Festival. Afterward, I started a masters at the Manhattan School of Music.
But in the first year of my masters, I got a role to sing with the Chicago Symphony. That’s every young opera singer’s dream — my career really took off from there. I ended up never finishing my masters. After the Chicago Symphony, I did a young artist program with the Houston Grand Opera. I got a manager and by 26, I made my international debut and started traveling the world.
Q: What keeps you going?
NP: One thing I’ve held onto is what a director at Interlochen once said to me: “If you really want to do music, you’re going to get kicked in the head more than anybody will pat you on the head.” ​Especially during my early career, I’d come back to that a lot.
When I started the Houston Grand Opera studio at 23, I was one of the youngest singers there. Having the chance to be with some of the world’s most famous opera singers, I had a lot of anxiety. Oftentimes, I was also the only person in the room who looked like me. While there’s been a lot of progress now, this was 20 years ago. If there was an Asian musician, I might see them in the pit, but not on stage.
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Throughout struggling with mental health and feeling like an outsider at times, I’ve always reminded myself — the thing that keeps you going has to be the work itself. My passion for music is what’s kept me going. If you’re going for accolades and outside attention, that’s a black void that won’t fill you. I know that’s luxurious for me to say, I just won a Grammy. But it’s been a long journey there with a lot of rejection.
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When I’m feeling down, I ask myself: How much of that is my ego or circumstances outside my control? You have to find a way to keep moving forward when doors are shut in your face.
"I’ve always reminded myself: The thing that keeps you going has to be the work itself. My passion for music is what’s kept me going. If you’re going for accolades and outside attention, that’s a black void that won’t fill you."
Nicholas Phan performing Kaija Saariaho’s Grammy award-winning Adriana Mater with the San Francisco Symphony
Q: How has opera transformed how you engage with the world?
NP: When you’re an opera singer, you’re always trying to get yourself into your character or the mind of your composer. Essentially, we’re always practicing empathy — reaching towards our shared humanity. Doing so has given me the belief that there’s so much more potential for community and compassion-building than we give the world credit for.
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Especially nowadays, it’s increasingly difficult to find aspects of shared humanity. If I'm listening to someone who’s politically on the other end of the spectrum, it's so much easier to be angry than to ask them why they are where they are. Art is one of those rare spaces that brings people together. Art has shaped my worldview so I try to seek understanding before I take action.
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As a performing artist, there’s a power in sharing the same physical space with the audience. Art fills a spiritual gap. It allows us to meditate. It provokes questions.
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I’ve seen this happen firsthand: I had the privilege of giving the world premiere of a song cycle, "Stranger", by composer Nico Muhly — it’s music set to protest writings about the Chinese Exclusion Act. I remember performing it in Boston in front of a liberal academic audience who were all like: “Yeah, this is great!” But two days later, I flew to Scottsdale, Arizona. This was during the Joe Arpaio trial when there was a lot of xenophobic, anti-immigrant sentiment. I remember describing what the piece was about to the audience and seeing them freeze up, bracing for the debate. But as I performed the piece, I felt the room warm up. It made people realize: we aren’t arguing about building a wall, we’re talking about humans. Through art, we were able to put the human back into the political sphere.
Q: What does a typical day look like for you?
NP: It’s very variable depending on my travel schedule. Oftentimes, I’m in a different city 2-3 times a week, navigating a TSA airport line. But I try to study or sing everyday. Being a singer is a bit like an athlete: you have to train your body. I try to exercise everyday because my body is my instrument.
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I start every morning writing morning pages as Julia Cameron advocates in The Artist’s Way. It’s a major mental health tool for me. As a performing artist, you’re creating in real time in front of an audience. You don’t have the chance to delete your page if you make a mistake. If you let the inner critic get out of control, it can be devastating. Morning pages help declutter my mind.
"Art is one of those rare spaces that brings people together. Art has shaped my worldview so I try to seek understanding before I take action ... As a performing artist, there’s a power in sharing the same physical space with the audience. Art fills a spiritual gap. It allows us to meditate. It provokes questions."
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Q: How have you seen representation evolve throughout your career?
NP: Now, there are debates about operas like Madame Butterfly that have historically used yellow face. 20 years ago, there were no debates.
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Now, there’s a desire from opera companies to be sensitive to different communities — whether that’s self-preservational or community-oriented. Anecdotally, I do see greater diversity athough the industry is still very white dominated. It’s important to acknowledge that a lot of the progress that’s been made is because of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and the reckoning that happened in America.
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But as much as there’s progress, there’s still resistance. When DEI comes up, the most common response I hear is: “I don’t really care if a singer is black, white, green or purple. I just want the best singer.” I wish it was that simple, but it’s not. For decades, we’ve been firing sopranos because they don’t fit into a black dress or because they look to old to play a 15-year-old girl on stage. There’s so much criteria that has nothing to do with singing. When someone says that to me, it feels like a resistance to how we all hold bias. It’s uncomfortable, but we have to admit that we all hold bias and there is no such thing as “the best singer.” It’s always subjective.
Credit: Clubsoda Productions
Q: Who or what inspires you?
NP: My art is always inspired by and taking place in conversation with the world. I believe our art needs to be in service of something. Sure, there are some people who think otherwise — the Oscar Wilde quote of “art for art’s sake.” That sounds cute on the surface but even that is a political statement — it’s an act of rebellion that ties directly to queer movements of hedonism and pleasure as protest.
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So whenever I’m creating a program or stepping into a role, I’m asking myself: “How does this reflect the world around me? Why is this relevant now?” For example, I listen to a lot of news and podcasts when I’m waiting at the airport. As I’m hearing about Mahmoud Khalil being stripped of his green card and the constitutional crisis around deportations, I’m also thinking about my recital program, Fellow Citizens. It’s a 90 min. performance that asks: "Who are our fellow citizens?" It feels like really important work right now.
Q: What does being an Asian American artist mean to you?
NP: Over the years, I’ve learned to claim the “American” part of my identity. Because it hasn’t always felt self-evident, especially with my last name. I fear that we’re in a moment of backslide right now, but I hope we can persevere and push forward to a point where things like me being an Asian-American artist don’t matter anymore.
The page on my website that’s the most viewed is my essay, “Just Another Dumb Asian Singer” — I wish my discography or bio was most viewed. Being Asian is just one slice of my identity.
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I do want to get to a place where me being an Asian opera singer isn’t such a big deal, but to get there, we need to be willing to have those uncomfortable conversations around race and identity.
"I do want to get to a place where me being an Asian opera singer isn’t such a big deal, but to get there, we need to be willing to have those uncomfortable conversations around race and identity."
Nicholas Phan performing Bach's St. Matthew Passion with the New York Philharmonic
Credit: Chris Lee
Q: What's your advice for aspiring musicians?
NP: My advice is pretty obtuse — just practice. There’s a whole slew of other things you’ll figure out along the way. But the one thing that always remains the same and helps you persevere is to find joy in the practice. At the end of the day, there’s no making it. It’s all about the journey. If you’re going to be there for the journey, you need to build your stamina. So practice.