Blue Ridge
Vocal Connection
I mentioned in my first installment that I can’t sing. Update: That’s actually incorrect. The correct answer is that I can sing. I just didn’t know I could sing.
Coincidentally early in my vocal journey, our fearless conductor, Thomas, pulled together his fourth annual workshop, which he encouraged me to attend. The workshop was open to all choral singers, but it seemed around half were from his Blue Ridge Vocal Connection. Since I’ve only been singing, what, three weeks?, this was my first. Thomas invited a vibrant young professional vocal instructor from the Big Apple to come educate, enlighten, and instruct us. It seemed like Justin could do anything with his voice; chest-voice, mixed-voice, falsetto, vocal fry, bass, flageolet, you name it. Very talented and exuberant guy!
In the initial group setting, Justin explained to us in detail the physics of singing, involving our lungs, accompanying musculature, vocal chords, larynx, mouth, and everything else that allows us to have voices. His overriding point was that everybody who has this stuff, which is basically everybody, has the tools necessary to sing. The rest is just mechanics and practice. And so we did lots of vocalization exercises. Up and down the scales. More and less volume. Over and over.
Thomas did a break-out session about how to read music. From 9th grade band lessons, I knew the basics of the clefs and what was meant by “time” and “measure” and “bar.” What I didn’t know was where on a scale (A to G) a certain location was… or how to translate that to its accompanying sound. I was surprised to hear him say it didn’t matter! He said most folks don’t know, even good singers. “I could say to a good singer, ‘Give me a B-flat,’ and they couldn’t do it without hearing it on a pitch-pipe first,” he said. I felt mightily assured. So I wasn’t a complete klutz, only a partial klutz, and my klutzness wasn’t that far below lots of other folks’.
But it was only in the private session I had with Justin that this really sank in. He asked me what song I wanted to work on, and not knowing what to expect, I hadn’t even thought about it.
“What kind of music do you like?” he asked.
“Sixties and seventies stuff. Rock and roll,” I replied. “Beatles. How about Golden Slumbers?”
Once, there was a way
To get back homeward
Once, there was a way
To get back home
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles awake you when you rise
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
If you know this song, the word “Sleep” really goes up there! I struggled to reach that high note. He encouraged me not to hold back, to really belt it out! Once I felt freed to put real energy behind it, I was able to reach it.
He scolded me saying my self-admonition that “I can’t sing,” is really a cop-out, that I’ve hidden behind for too long. “I’ve worked with lots of people and some really can’t sing,” he said. “You can carry a tune and you understand pitch. You can sing.”
So that was that!
I left there thinking about the Wizard of Oz, giving the Scarecrow a diploma. Nothing changed in the Scarecrow’s intellect, as indeed he had contributed solutions to his companions’ travails on their way to Oz. But by “earning” his diploma, he was now a bona-fide thinker. Maybe I just needed to tell myself, frequently and from now on, that I could sing, and make the prophecy self-fulfilling. And help me be more self-fulfilled.
The afternoon ended with us taking what we’d learned through the course of the day and singing a couple of songs on stage before a real audience, my first time ever, something I swore I’d never do. Rehearsing still sounded awful in my ears, but the actual performance was non-terrible, especially given the dearth of practice. And I found a couple of actually reasonably pleasant sounds emanating from my throat. Maybe better things are to come.
In a related aside, as I’m doing this self-improvement effort to add singing to my personal skill set, so too has Susan decided to learn something new. It goes without saying that she’s enormously talented not just musically but with almost everything she does. But I’ve been juggling since college days and have gained some proficiency; in fact I recently completed teaching a Lifelong Learning Institute class. There are always toys around the house that beg to be thrown into the air. After the day-long musical event, upon our return to my house, rather than do the sensible thing like have a glass of wine or take a nap, Susan started throwing around my new set of juggling sacks. I gave her a few brief instructions on how to get started and magically within 30 minutes she had already gained a credible level of efficiency, keeping as many as 5 or 6 throws going. One of the things I appreciate most in our relationship is that we constantly inspire each other.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The next day, fellow Connecter Denise H. and I went to Marion, Virginia, to attend a special event arranged by my friend Jack to sing his new variation on the traditional African-American gospel song, “This Train is Bound for Glory” which Jack has updated for our current political reality. Fittingly, the gathering was held at a former Black church on South Main Street. With cameras and microphones in the front pews, a gathering of about 20 of us, including Jack’s 90+ year old mom Mary Ann, stood on stage and sang, accompanied by a variety of instruments including guitars, a dulcimer, a wash-board bass, and my Jew’s harp.
Jack said he had been listening to the song as sung by the late Big Bill Broonzy, a Black blues singer, and the new lyrics came to him. “All the verses are intended to express what I believe in,” he told me.
Jack promised the edited and compiled video would arrive in our In-Boxes in the next few days for our own distribution.
My musical journey continues.
Stay tuned.