The Instrument Within

I hate to admit it, but my mother was right.  When I was in middle school, she tried to give me piano lessons.  You would think that, being an elementary school teacher, the task would have been simple for her.  But I was stubborn and lazy, didn't want to practice, and was right in the middle of the 'everything your parents say is stupid' phase.  So, I never learned to play the piano, or any other instrument for that matter.  Once she realized that I wasn't taking to her lessons as expected, she told me I would regret it one day, and she was so right.  Sigh. Now I love instrumentalists and their talent and dedication, but I'm a bit envious, too.  That shiny brass of a trumpet or the gleaming wood of a viola attracts my senses, and the wonderful sounds they can produce melts my heart like nothing else.

As singers and choralists, we have an instrument.  Not a thing we pick up and blow, pluck, or strike.  It's carried within our bodies, undefined as a visual shape, the voice we produce through the physical beings we are. We study it, rehearse it, test it, stretch it, and provide for it's every need to the best of our ability.  We use the whole of our senses to control it, improve it, free it, and search for that balance that will share it's best features to the listening world.

Sadly, one of the hardest things we suffer is we personalize it.  Not that we shouldn't, mind you; the voice is the most intimate of instruments, literally a part of us.  But how do we separate ourselves as a person from the instrument we carry within?  How do we take direction, correction, critical instruction without assuming these things as affronts against ourselves as a person?

I am slowly learning several things, perhaps the hard way, about this very process.  I am sure that I will never fully be able to make the separation, but there are some things to remember and take to heart.  Remember, the director has goals and expectations for their choir.  Listen to what the director is asking for with a discerning ear.  A critique of your section is not a diatribe on you.  Know your role within the group, and you will understand how to respond pleasingly.  Know your limitations and keep within your strengths.  I don't mean don't stretch yourself and try new techniques as directed, but if you are a high boy soprano, and the director is asking for a deeper darker sound, there is only so much you can do without being uncomfortable or causing harm.  Back off in those spots; there are others that can do that work.  And they can't do what you can.  That is the beauty of putting all of these glorious vocal instruments together. It's building an orchestra without the hardware.  Every instrument has it's place, shines out at times, and supports at others.  Revel in it, learn from it, keep playing that instrument and sing!

The Diva Confession

You probably don't need a history lesson on where the term 'diva' comes from, but maybe a little explanation wouldn't hurt.  Diva was an Italian term used to describe a woman of outstanding talent in opera.  As it became commonly used in the English language, it was also applied to a highly talented woman in any music genre, theatre, or dance and is very closely related in definition to the term 'prima donna'.  It has become a term with rather negative connotations used to describe anyone who flaunts their self-importance in a demanding and unreasonable manner.  Talented? Yes.  But are they easy to live with?  No!


When I was just starting out in college, I got involved in the choral scene on campus.  At the time, the requirement was to sing in the University Chorus for a semester, then one was free to try out for any of the three audition choirs.  I did just that, and as soon as my semester in University Chorus was completed, I decided to audition for the mixed ensemble.  I did audition well, but they had this questionnaire to fill out, which I considered rather silly and pretentious.  So I scribbled some answers to the questions without much thought, believing I was being amusing, saying, in essence, I wanted to join the group because they needed me. The real meaning behind a tossed off comment like that was that I desperately wanted to be needed, especially by those choralists I admired. But its no surprise that my comments didn't go over well, as the audition committee took the questionnaire very seriously.  I didn't get into the group that year, (I did reaudition and got in the following year) but I learned a valuable lesson.  Music making is wonderful and fun, but it can be a serious business.  Acting 'diva' wasn't going to do me favors if I wanted to be taken seriously as a singer.

The experience I had all that time ago has enlightened my choral experiences since.  I have been thinking about the word 'diva' lately, so I looked it up.  Interestingly, I re-discovered that the Italian word 'diva' has a literal translation of 'diety.'  God-like.  Divine Being.  Hmmmm.  I believe that music is a gift from God, my ability to sing is a gift from God as well, and when I sing, I am filled with the Spirit of God, and I share the gift with everyone that hears.  I am embodied by the Divine without which I could not do what I am able to do.  Looked at in this light, I think I am ok with being a diva.  One who knows where she came from, what she wants to do today, and is open to the glorious experiences still to come. 

The Think Method

I am disappointed in myself.  It was my intention to write at least every week.  I see, however, that it has been over a month since I have posted any thought.  I have been thinking about what I had to say, but thinking and doing, of course, are two very different things.  It reminds me of 'The Music Man" in which the Professor teaches music using the 'Think Method".  If you haven't seen the film (really?) a scam artist convinces a town that he can teach their children how to play band instruments just by thinking about playing them.  We find this humorous and ridiculous; one cannot take a short cut to learning anything skillful and worthwhile.  Yet, truth be told, we find ourselves chasing short cuts, hoping to find the quickest way to accomplish a goal or fulfill a dream.

This is probably the reason I cannot watch the hugely popular TV show, "American Idol".  Sure, some of the contestants are skilled and have worked with determination to hone their craft, studied, and have kept their sights towards their goals.  I believe, however, that a greater majority think they have something marketable and expect they deserve to have it all handed to them.  It's an unfortunate representation of society today.  There are instances where talent truly "is discovered" and it is a wonderful happenstance when it occurs.  More often that not, though, we want the big prize for little or no effort.

As  choralists, we find ourselves surrounded by multiple levels of talent and skill, all with different goals in mind.  Some are there simply for the pleasure of music, and don't expect to have to work or study very much. Some may view their participation as a stepping stone to something else; individual successes or networking for more prestigious roles. Some are completely involved in the task at hand, and are concerned with what they can learn and contribute right where they are.  This is the group to which all others should aspire.  To accept the job of being a choralist means commitment and work.  To the director, this is the path to a better and more accomplished choir.  To the choralist, this is the path to a better and more accomplished individual.  What could one discover about oneself while taking the talent of music to new levels by rehearsing, studying, working, reaching, and committing to being the best possible?  It is within our grasp, but is it within us to reach for it?  Like in the children's story "The Little Engine that Could", I say, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...."

Holiday Music Memories

Along with all the things that have become traditional in my home, each year, my husband and I try to get a new Christmas CD to add to our Christmas music collection. This year, it was Pink Martini's "Joy to the World", which really is a wonderful collection of some standards and some not-so-standard songs of the holidays.  Several pieces are sung in languages I don't speak or understand (hooray for great liner notes!), but the spirit and emotion of Christmas joy are evident in each selection.

Growing up, my traditional Christmas expectations were a bit different than they are today.  We always went to my mother's parents home, where, along with my aunt and the cousins, we started our celebration by singing Christmas carols together.  My mother played the piano, and we all made requests to sing our favorites.  If I close my eyes, I can see the wood of the old upright piano, smell the scent of the fresh pine from the tree cut from my grandparent's farm, adorned with handmade ornaments cut from old Christmas cards, and hear the blend of the cousin's voices as they harmonized with my lead.  Today, both grandparents are in heaven along with my aunt, the cousins have scattered to other places, and we don't see each other anymore. 

My best memory is more closely held, and only involved my parents and my brother.  Every Christmas Eve, dad got out the film strip machine and mom pulled out a special record from the Hi-Fi storage box.  Then we turned off the lights, and we had our own multi-media presentation of the Christmas story.  The record was the reading of the scripture from Luke, dubbed over some very dramatic organ music.  The little "bong" sound that indicated when to flip the film strip to the next picture didn't match any of the rest of the music, and my brother and I would giggle hysterically if mom missed one of the cues and the story got a bit out of sync.  We looked forward to it every year, and the comfort of hearing the same sounds and seeing those same pictures stays with me today as I sit in the dark, squinting at my tree, remembering.

No matter if the traditions are time-worn or brand new, the music of the Season brings us true comfort and joy.  I will have to play a few of my favorite CDs one more time before they get put away until the next year.

Musicians Christmas

The holiday season is so frantic these days.  There's shopping to do, parties to attend and host, school and church programs, family get togethers, and so much more!  Add to all of that, for a musician, all the extra rehearsals and performances, and you have one overwhelming Season.  It's no surprise that January is the month that a musician is most likely to come down with a cold or the flu. 
I love Christmas music, don't get me wrong. What other holiday is so immersed in musical traditions, new and old?  And there aren't a lot of Flag Day or Labor Day albums, are there? Yes, Christmas is a time of musical celebration.  However, as musicians, we don't get to sit back and soak up all of the beautiful sights and sounds of a Christmas concert or program.  We are performing; concentrating on breathing, singing or playing, standing or sitting at the correct time, preparing mentally for the next piece, watching the director, and most of all on not making any noticeable errors.  With all that going on, it's easy to see how one forgets to enjoy what one is doing.  It is a unique rush to perform well, especially with an overtly receptive audience.  But it is over so quickly, and the satisfied relish from that last high note fades almost at the speed of sound. 
Recently, I have begun to remind myself why I sing.  I want to be part of something more, that leads others to the wonder and delight of the music I sing.  I want to teach myself the blessings of music, to understand that this gift is much more than intonation, pitch, melody, and harmony; it is the joy that comes when these things are done well.  It is in the message received when heart and intellect are poured into the effort of music.  It is knowing that no one can take this gift of music from me, but I am willing to give it away every time I sing. 
The big music program at my church is next week.  It will be glorious, and I will sing with open ears and heart, breathing out the music of Christmas, and breathing in the wonder of it all.

The Wrong Words

Last Sunday was the very special "Kirkin' of the Tartans" service at the Presbyterian church that I attend. It's a wonderful time of remembering the heritage of the denomination and of recommitment of family and faith.  There was much pageantry with a procession of tartan banners, all the choirs, and "Highland Cathedral" on the bagpipes.  There were the usual readings and prayers, but somehow so much more regal as I looked out onto a congregation splendidly adorned with bits of tartan; a scarf, a kilt, a vest, a skirt, or a ribbon.  Each family selected their certain pattern to represent their sense of pride and unity.  I wore the "Laurie" family plaid even though I should wear the "Wallace" plaid as it is within my ancestry.  But I love the blue and green of the "Laurie" plaid, so I have adopted it as my own. During one of the hymns of the service, the congregation is invited to come to the front of the church and lay a selected piece of the family plaid on the alter. It is a beautiful symbolic act of rededication to the church and family, of thankfulness of the blessings of the year, and a prayer for guidance, comfort, and peace for the coming times. When the hymn is concluded, there is a beautiful mound of cloth in multiple patterns and colors blended together, a symbol of the congregation together in love.  I am always moved to tears by the sight.

This year, however, I was somewhat distracted by the hymn itself.  The organ began the introduction as a very familiar hymn tune, "Hyfrydol", that I know as the hymn "Hallelujah, What A Saviour" or, a bit lesser known, "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus".  I looked down at my book and realized that the words to today's selection were totally unfamiliar to me.  For a moment, I panicked; how could I get down from the choir loft and sing words I didn't know without falling or tripping?!?  It was momentary and I just didn't try to sing and walk at the same time, resuming the song when I was once again stationary at my choir seat.

This brings me to confess my struggle.  I was brought up in the Baptist church; in attendance every time the doors were open.  I had the hymnal practically memorized by age 13 or 14.  I had no idea that other denominations might sing different words until I was invited to sing at a community Christmas service when I was 18.  A friend of mine was responsible for the music for the service and asked me to come and sing "Birthday of a King".  I didn't realize until I arrived that evening that he expected me to also sing in the choir as they lead the carol singing.  Not a problem, really, until we got to one carol that had slightly different wording than I was used to.  Of course, I wasn't really following the hymnal, and got a sharp elbow from the soprano next me when I loudly proclaimed the wrong attribute to the Baby Jesus. At the time, I wondered, "Is that a misprint?!?"   Needless to say, I paid more attention to my hymnal for the rest of the service.

Since that time, I have attended a number of other churches and have seen there are multiple settings of familiar hymn tunes. It always throws me for a loop. Is it really necessary to completely rewrite lyrics to century old established hymns?  I mean, I have sung "Amazing Grace" so many times, but I am often surprised to open a hymnal only to discover that the version printed has yet another unfamiliar verse.  My husband has attended many Christmas concerts to hear me sing, and is quite adamant that Christmas carols should be sung "straight" (his version of the familiar); no fancy arranging, no additional or new lyrics, no "mash-ups".  Some may say new lyrics to old tunes just make you pay attention and think about what you are singing.  Yeah, ok, I'm thinking, "What was wrong with the old lyrics?"

As I settled back to listen to the sermon on Sunday, I wasn't sure what to expect; the sermon title printed in the bulletin was a bit vague.  The pastor began to talk about God speaking to us through each other, using the words of fellow believers around us to convey His message of love and care.  How not only might we be the voice of God to our neighbor but that we should be listening to the voice of God to us through others.  What is God trying to tell us?  Are we open to hearing God speak, even through unconventional words? 

Ah, a light bulb moment.  Was I being too quick to dismiss the poetry and message of a new lyric because it was unfamiliar?  Was I missing an opportunity for a blessing because I wasn't willing to hear?  God is found when we seek Him, and perhaps I was not seeking by being opinionated and closed minded about hymn lyrics.  It won't come easily; I love to sing the familiar hymns and lean on the memories and messages I have already discovered within them.  They will always be with me and I find comfort in them.  Perhaps I can also learn sing those words that are new to me with an open heart and ear, listening for the voice of God anew to me, giving me a new message discover and heed.  Alleluia.

Know Your Role

Having grown up near the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York, Fall has always been the most glorious time of year to me.  The crisp, cool air, the temperate sunlight, and the magnificent colors bursting from the trees radiating over the landscape made me feel uplifted and loved.  When I moved South, Fall didn’t feel quite the same.  Not only is Fall still fairly hot here, it seems that the trees don’t change colors all at once as they do in the North, so there isn’t the absorption of Fall color in one place at one time.  It almost seems that Fall sneaks by me here and I nearly miss seeing any colors at all. 

For the last few years, there has hardly been much of a Fall here in the South due to severe drought conditions.  The trees barely turned, and dropped their leaves almost right away.  Since everything stayed kind of brown all summer anyway, Fall was almost unrecognizable.  However, this year we left drought conditions behind, and had a lovely spring and summer of a good mixture of rain and sun.  The azaleas came on beautifully, lawns greened up, and the trees looked livelier and greener than they had in a long time. 

As I was driving to church on Sunday, I was struck once again by the glorious magnificence of Fall.  The late morning sun was just right, and the trees seemed to be in colorful harmony just for me.  Looking down hill as I came over a knoll, the Fall landscape tapestry laid out in front of me, and I caught my breath at the beauty.  It was spectacular.  I fell in love with Fall all over again.

 Then, as I looked closer, I realized that not all the trees were doing the same thing.  Individually, each one was at a different stage of the throes of the Fall palate.  Some were full-on color; brilliantly flamed in red, orange, maroon, or yellow.  Some were past their brilliance and only the deep browns remained.  Some still retained all of their leaves, fluttering in the easy breeze of the day, while others seemed scrawny, with just a few scraggly leaves clinging to the branches closest to the trunk.  How fascinating that all together they create one of the most treasured sights nature has to offer.

This made me think of choral music and the importance of the rule, ‘Know Your Role’.  Let me explain.  Each singer brings various abilities and talents to the choral table.  Individually, a singer might be the one who solos fabulously, or is that wonderful bass anchor for the gospel quartet, or maybe has the soaring straight tone soprano that floats so simply and so high.  There are so many nuances and tambours and styles and sounds, that, on their own, are part of what makes us unique. Just think of how quickly an infant learns to recognize his own mother's voice.  Most of us find comfort in talking to family and loved ones, finding what we need in the sounds of their voices.  But how does what the individual voice has contribute to the choral sound?  There can be no divas; an individual voice may resonate so pleasingly on it's own, but must find its perfect niche within the choral voice.   It is the contribution to the group that becomes the more important task here.  It is knowing when the contribution of one's specific talents and gifts are the leading role, and when they are the support of the talents and gifts of the surrounding voices. It is the giving and the giving up of ourselves for the good of the chorus that creates yet another gloriously unique voice; the choral one we raise together. 

There is rain in the weather forecast for the next few days.  I suppose after the rain has stopped, most of the trees will have dropped their leaves and the grays and browns of Winter will quietly wander in.  I must remember that Winter brings it's own unique sights to the landscapes and can be quite wonderful in it's own way if I am willing to see it.

Music Is Memory

So, here I go, throwing my thoughts out into space, wondering if anyone will hear.  It's strange, but exciting.  I've been thinking about my life in music, where I've been and where I'm going, and how did I get here from there?  Could what I know and have experienced in music be helpful to someone else?

I've been a singer nearly all my life.  I say 'singer', not 'musician' because although I am both, I like the identity of 'singer' best. I have sung in multiple church choirs and choruses, been a soloist and worship leader, and sung at more weddings and funerals that I can count.  My musical life took a big turn this year, which is probably why I was prompted to start writing about it.  Suffice it to say, I've done a lot of singing. 

I started singing with my Mom playing the piano for me.  She put me in the children's choir at church, and gave me every opportunity to sing in public.  I remember standing on an apple box in front of a microphone to sing "Jesus Loves Me" on a Sunday morning for the 'big church' people.  I was 5.  Mom had already figured out that I wasn't just a cute little kid with no stage fright, I actually had a voice, and I needed to be using it every time I could .  I sang in every choir available through grade school and high school, and sang the 'special music' for any church service I was asked.  I joined the adult church choir when I was about 12, and stayed with it until I went off to college. 

My memories of my young spiritual life are all connected to music. I have a friend that could tell you, in great detail,  all of the science specifics of the effects of music on the brain; all I know is, music enhances memory.  Who doesn't know what song was playing during those milestone events in our lives?  First kiss?  First time you drove the car alone?  First break-up?  Yeah, we all have memories that include music.  I have all of those, and I have spiritual music memories, too.  Like the first grown-up hymn I ever learned by heart, singing with my family around my Grandmother's piano, and being moved to tears by a song I had to sing.  These are stories I want to tell later, but for now, I remember my life as music.  And I can't imagine it any other way.