What was that about pulchritude?

It was fun to see the poster for the Nov. 11 event in which I'll be performing at SNCA with a bevy of talented beauties. Ya'll come ... at your own risk.

Back to basics

At my lesson today, I worked on the four classical pieces I am preparing for NATS in February 2011. It was the first time I had run all of them with Lilly, and there is a long way to go. On Luke Havergal, I broke on the line "Our of the grave I come." (How is this for a great Halloween song, by the way?) Lilly reminded me of one of the first rules of singing: Hold the vowel, carry that word's ending consonants to the beginning of the next word. Thus "grave I come" becomes "grah veye come." Simple lesson, but I had forgotten it, and as soon as I sang it this way I didn't have any troubles. Lesson learned, yes. Lesson remembered? Time will tell.

Just for fun

I added a new page to the blog this morning: Just for Fun. I like the idea of building a collection of music that moves friends and family who come to the site. So post a link on Just for Fun before the day is out. Tell us why. Don't be shy.

My entry for today: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrsfLYKVOZQ&NR=1&feature=fvwp

The red tape behind the music

I recently worked my way through the labyrinth of a large music publisher's licensing and copyright department to obtain permission to perform a transposed piece of classical music at a college music festival next year. Not fun! It took a lot of time that I could have spent singing--or walking the dog, for that matter--but it was a learning experience

It all began in August when my singing teacher and I determined that a 20th century art song I really like--John Duke's  Luke Havergal--fits one of the required categories for entry in the festival, scheduled for February 2011. My teacher owns  a copy of the music--great!--but it is the "Medium Voice" version, meaning the range, with a high note of F above middle C--is well above mine. So the search began to see if Luke was available in a Low Voice version. After a hunt that included phone calls to a classical music library in Ithaca, NY, and e-mails to a European music supplier whose website promised what ultimately turned out to be a red-herring Low Voice version of Luke, we confirmed that Low Luke was not available and, indeed, had never been published.

An alternative was to sing the published High Voice version an octave lower to fit my range. Tried it.  Didn't work. I sounded like I was in the basement, or trapped in a mine in Chile somewhere. After further study of the festival's requirements for entry, we found that a version of the music transposed via software like Finale would be acceptable, as long as we obtained permission from the publisher. Thus began the dealings with the publisher's licensing and copyright department. Nearly a month after my initial request, permission arrived by e-mail yesterday.

My point is that performing music takes more time and involves more backstory than I ever imagined before I began my adventures in singing. Sure, I could have easily blown off Luke and found another piece that suits the festival's entry requirements, but when a piece of music speaks to you the way this one speaks to me, it's worth the effort. (More about that in a future posting.) I was thrilled when that e-mail arrived yesterday. Now let's hope the judges at the festival will be equally enthusiastic.

To what lengths have you gone to perform a piece of music you love?

Life does not have assigned seating

This blog isn't about singing as much as it is about stretching. Trying new things. As a professional writer for more than 30 years, I'm usually the guy with a notebook or laptop in the corner of the room. I've often adopted that posture in my personal life, too--sitting back, making commentary while others put on the show. With singing, I stand and join the chorus.

Why is that important? For starters, it's the people. Since I began singing two years ago, many new and wonderful people have entered my life. I share jitters, hugs and high-fives with teen-agers and their parents at recitals and local events where my singing teacher's students are invited to perform. With old friends, I've made harmonies that never would have been heard without my adventures in singing. And I made buddies from six to 60 in the community theatre production of The Wizard of Oz this past summer. How could I ever forget the kindergarten-age Munchkin who took my hand and grinned after every performance as the cast stepped downstage for our curtain call? That wouldn't have happened if my fingers had been poised over a laptop, now would it?

I am grateful for the constants in my life--a relationship, a family, a home, a job. But at 58, I am also beginning to understand that life does not have assigned seating. We are free to get up and move about, to enjoy the view from different angles, fresh perspectives. It might be comfortable, but we do not have to sit in the same pew at church every Sunday. Indeed, I believe we are obliged to take different ones as we go through life. The one near the choir? The one by the window? The one where that new couple is sitting who joined the church last month? Whatever the choice, you might very well make a difference in someone's life, and your own.

What are you doing to break out of your comfort zone?

Richard Kiley rules

Anyone know how old Richard Kiley was when he did Man of La Mancha on Broadway? 50, maybe? I listened recently to the original cast recording and was amazed at his range and strength, and the recording is fresh and crisp as if it were made yesterday. Listen to a wonderful sample at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45KxeBonUGI

The Village People: Why they rock

I have been working with friends on a comic number for an upcoming Late Night Off Center show at our community center next month. We're singing and dancing to "YMCA" by the Village People, but with different lyrics that satirize a hotly debated issue in the news today.

At our first rehearsal, our choreographer was talking about why this song has lasted. What qualities must it, or any song, for that matter,  possess in order to stick around as long as "YMCA" has? First of all, "YMCA" has drive. Its beat is insistent and proud. In addition, the melody "keeps going up," our choreographer observed. Each measure inches up and up and up, incrementally higher than the last. She makes a good point. We have had three rehearsals now and I never tire of running through this music. It's fun. It moves. And it's a spirit-lifter if ever there was one. Check out the original 1978 video for a reminder: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CS9OO0S5w2k.

I also love what one viewer posted about the video. "It's weird but this song gives me a Christmas feeling." Says it all, doesn't it?

What songs give you a Christmas feeling?