End of the first concert season
Good bits:
Today my choir had our winter concert, featuring Vivaldi's "Magnificat" and accompanied by an incredible strings section. I think having soloists and fewer strings helped un-muddle the sound, which is a common problem with layering a lot of voices and instruments. (listen to a movement from Vivaldi's "Magnificat", performed by the Budapest Madrigal Choir and Budapest Strings). Also with the addition of the strings, which I didn't know about till the dress rehearsal, "Whisper to Me" by David Hamilton became an unexpected favourite. (listen to a performance by Bella Cantoris - it's taken faster than we did, and the recording quality isn't terrific, but you get the idea.)
In the "Magnificat", the conductor made a choice to slow down the vocal section, let the strings move past us, and then slowly picked up tempo again to catch us up with the strings as both of us went to a presstissimo. (we called it the "choo choo" section, referencing a runaway choo choo train. very technical, haha.) One guy in the audience looked like we had blown his mind, which was very rewarding, especially for the conductor, I'm sure, who had to learn how to conduct 2 different tempos with both hands.
I looked out into the audience at some point and thought I saw the manager for the professional-ish choir that I used to be a part of for a really long time, and I almost cried onstage at thought of everything coming back full circle, a pillar of the organisation I came from, now here to listen to me sing again in the city where I've ended up. Well...unfortunately, my mild face-blindness strikes again, and it wasn't him, just someone with a passing resemblance. Whoops. Awkward, but a nice fairytale moment while it lasted.
Reception later was wonderful, drinks later with the choir and conductor at the John Harvard brewery, underneath the stained glass windows of local sports legends, because that's who we are, as a city. Some of the audience members were also at the brewery and came over to chat with us, which was nice.
The one on the far right is Bobby Orr:
Not so good bits:
I joined choir earlier this year because I've been feeling pretty directionless and bereft; I used to love my life and loved learning, and now the best I can do is "I guess I'm lucky it isn't worse" and trying to keep my head above water one week at a time while feeling like I'm puttering away my 20s. Outwardly, I'm sure it looks like "I've made it", live on my own, financially stable, respectable career track, etc. but on the inside, I'm absolutely miserable. Most days all I can think is that my younger self would be so fucking disappointed if she saw me now, and she would be ashamed to find that she grew up to be me.
In an effort to rediscover my own identity, I thought back to the times when I was happiest and remembered that I used to do a ton of music extracurriculars for most of my formative years, so I thought that maybe a return to old habits would help me find where I got lost along the way.
I also wanted to make connections with people I would see over and over again, but in a constructive environment that wasn't a pub or the movies or whatever. It's hard making friends after college - all the student interest groups and class connections disappear all at once. I still use Meetup.com for events when I want to go out and hang with people that I don't necessarily want to befriend long term, but then I looked around one day and realised I didn't have many permanent IRL friends anymore and decided to change that.) Making friends once you're out of school is hard, and it's not quite professional to be chummy with people you work with. (plus everyone in my workplace is at least in their 40s with kids and responsibilities and no free time).
Making friends with people who love something enough to faithfully commit their free time every week to make wonderful music? Much easier!
Conclusion:
I had a conversation during the after-concert reception with another singer, who shared my observations that often the most disliked and difficult pieces unexpectedly end up being your most beloved, either because the work you put into it makes a good performance all the more rewarding, the repeated labour breeds affection in the musical equivalent of mere-exposure effect, or maybe because the unique experience becomes a wonderful anecdote to add to your vocal repertoire. My resolution for 2016 is that maybe someday I'll look back on this godawful year like a difficult piece of music, with some gained wisdom, affection, gratitude and completion.
Today my choir had our winter concert, featuring Vivaldi's "Magnificat" and accompanied by an incredible strings section. I think having soloists and fewer strings helped un-muddle the sound, which is a common problem with layering a lot of voices and instruments. (listen to a movement from Vivaldi's "Magnificat", performed by the Budapest Madrigal Choir and Budapest Strings). Also with the addition of the strings, which I didn't know about till the dress rehearsal, "Whisper to Me" by David Hamilton became an unexpected favourite. (listen to a performance by Bella Cantoris - it's taken faster than we did, and the recording quality isn't terrific, but you get the idea.)
In the "Magnificat", the conductor made a choice to slow down the vocal section, let the strings move past us, and then slowly picked up tempo again to catch us up with the strings as both of us went to a presstissimo. (we called it the "choo choo" section, referencing a runaway choo choo train. very technical, haha.) One guy in the audience looked like we had blown his mind, which was very rewarding, especially for the conductor, I'm sure, who had to learn how to conduct 2 different tempos with both hands.
I looked out into the audience at some point and thought I saw the manager for the professional-ish choir that I used to be a part of for a really long time, and I almost cried onstage at thought of everything coming back full circle, a pillar of the organisation I came from, now here to listen to me sing again in the city where I've ended up. Well...unfortunately, my mild face-blindness strikes again, and it wasn't him, just someone with a passing resemblance. Whoops. Awkward, but a nice fairytale moment while it lasted.
Reception later was wonderful, drinks later with the choir and conductor at the John Harvard brewery, underneath the stained glass windows of local sports legends, because that's who we are, as a city. Some of the audience members were also at the brewery and came over to chat with us, which was nice.
The one on the far right is Bobby Orr:
Not so good bits:
I joined choir earlier this year because I've been feeling pretty directionless and bereft; I used to love my life and loved learning, and now the best I can do is "I guess I'm lucky it isn't worse" and trying to keep my head above water one week at a time while feeling like I'm puttering away my 20s. Outwardly, I'm sure it looks like "I've made it", live on my own, financially stable, respectable career track, etc. but on the inside, I'm absolutely miserable. Most days all I can think is that my younger self would be so fucking disappointed if she saw me now, and she would be ashamed to find that she grew up to be me.
In an effort to rediscover my own identity, I thought back to the times when I was happiest and remembered that I used to do a ton of music extracurriculars for most of my formative years, so I thought that maybe a return to old habits would help me find where I got lost along the way.
I also wanted to make connections with people I would see over and over again, but in a constructive environment that wasn't a pub or the movies or whatever. It's hard making friends after college - all the student interest groups and class connections disappear all at once. I still use Meetup.com for events when I want to go out and hang with people that I don't necessarily want to befriend long term, but then I looked around one day and realised I didn't have many permanent IRL friends anymore and decided to change that.) Making friends once you're out of school is hard, and it's not quite professional to be chummy with people you work with. (plus everyone in my workplace is at least in their 40s with kids and responsibilities and no free time).
Making friends with people who love something enough to faithfully commit their free time every week to make wonderful music? Much easier!
Conclusion:
I had a conversation during the after-concert reception with another singer, who shared my observations that often the most disliked and difficult pieces unexpectedly end up being your most beloved, either because the work you put into it makes a good performance all the more rewarding, the repeated labour breeds affection in the musical equivalent of mere-exposure effect, or maybe because the unique experience becomes a wonderful anecdote to add to your vocal repertoire. My resolution for 2016 is that maybe someday I'll look back on this godawful year like a difficult piece of music, with some gained wisdom, affection, gratitude and completion.