Just think, those stars can all peep down and see way beyond where we can.
This week feels like it's been going on forever, and it's only Tuesday. Regardless, I've been moved to the point of saying "Woo hoo!" many times recently, so I'm not complaining about time's snail pace. That's November for you, only usually November doesn't rock quite this hard. I've got a solo in the Bach festival, my imitative duo is done, my history essay will be done on Thursday and I have the weekend off from Savoy. What could be better? See, normally I'd say "A man!", but I don't really feel the need to anymore. I have about an hour until I have to go to my masterclass, so I'm relishing the ability to have some time to myself under my duvet with my laptop, my music and the heat up. See, I like being cold and naked and tucked tightly into blankets when I've got someone else with me, but the romantic way with which I approach my time alone eventually gives way to the fact that my ass gets really cold, hence the heater.
I've been falling in love with classical music again, which is an amazing feeling. It's not that I don't always love it in some capacity, but sometimes this unknown force picks me up and makes me unable to go a day without taking out my book of arias that I shouldn't really be singing or cranking up some Ralph Vaughn Williams. There's this one aria called "Ain't it a pretty night?" from Floyd's Susannah which just kills me the most. It's a contemporary American opera set in rural Tenessee and it's just SO beautiful because of these huge swelling strings sections and the low brass coming in at just the right moment. But most importantly, the use of a southern drawl as a diction technique is just amazing. "The sky so dark and velvet-like and it's all light up with stars. It's like a great big mirror reflecting fireflies over a pond." Just imagine how she says words like "sky" and "fireflies" with just enough lilt to carry the phrase. You really just have to hear it, because I can't accurately describe how gorgeous it is. Just trust me.
Trystan randomly quoted A Midsummer Night's Dream at the pub last night and I immediately hurled myself into the quiet repetition of a large portion of the act that the line was from in Britten's operatic version of the play. Gah. I love Britten so much. I've been listening to his ceremony of carols lately and I forgot just how beautiful his rendition of "There is No Rose of Such Virtue" can be. I'm such a nerd sometimes.
It's funny. I usually have a little bit of trouble bringing art songs to life because they just always feel like they're about the same thing: love. I mean, yadda yadda yadda flowers kissed on the hand our love will burn always like a flaming golden hawk in my loins... Well, maybe not that last part, but still. It's kind of formulaic. However, I finally figured out how to convey them in spite of their sometimes lacking lyrics. It's all about painting a picture in vocal effects and facial expressions, but it doesn't necessarily have to be the same picture as the one the text is trying to convey. For instance, I'm singing Barber's "The Daisies" right now, and the lyrics go along the lines of "In the scented bud of the morning o, when the windy grass went rippling far, I saw my dear one walking slow in the field where the daisies are..." and all that jazz. It's nice, it's cute, but if I put myself in a mind frame where I felt the same things as the song is trying to convey, it suddenly all clicks. Granted, I was envisioning busy streets and freezing cold and laughing in spite of awkward conversation lulls, but it worked. All the stress was gone and I was singing just like I was walking home in the morning.
I've gotten in some quality bonding this weekend:
-Devon and I spoke on the phone for a good while. Her man bought her jewelry, so that's always good. She's visiting in January.
-Hillary sent me incriminating photos of the final girl's night. She's coming to Montreal this weekend!
-I had a phone conversation with Bek that lasted all through shopping, snacking and walking from Strathcona to Solin. She sang me the Mr. Clean jingle.
-Iris and I went through our old journals and compared emo poetry.
-The homohop was fun. Iris, Bob, Marisa, Brescia and copious amounts of Adonis-like music boys were there for my winding pleasure.
-Trys and I had dinner/a theory party/pub time with Jae and much much much geeky Bach time.
-I got to hear poor busted ribbed Laney go on about how life has picked up substantially since last time we got to talk.
-Snuggling + movie = fun.
I just kind of feel like I still haven't found my niche in Montreal. I mean, I'm getting there. I'm meeting more people, I'm meeting people I enjoy spending time with and for the first time, I was laying on the floor in the Shatner club lounge and thought "Damn, I'm at McGill and I'm functioning and I don't feel awkward just sprawling out here like it was my appartment or something. That's kind of cool."
I always have so much more to say, but I'm off to listen to more beautiful music.
I've been falling in love with classical music again, which is an amazing feeling. It's not that I don't always love it in some capacity, but sometimes this unknown force picks me up and makes me unable to go a day without taking out my book of arias that I shouldn't really be singing or cranking up some Ralph Vaughn Williams. There's this one aria called "Ain't it a pretty night?" from Floyd's Susannah which just kills me the most. It's a contemporary American opera set in rural Tenessee and it's just SO beautiful because of these huge swelling strings sections and the low brass coming in at just the right moment. But most importantly, the use of a southern drawl as a diction technique is just amazing. "The sky so dark and velvet-like and it's all light up with stars. It's like a great big mirror reflecting fireflies over a pond." Just imagine how she says words like "sky" and "fireflies" with just enough lilt to carry the phrase. You really just have to hear it, because I can't accurately describe how gorgeous it is. Just trust me.
Trystan randomly quoted A Midsummer Night's Dream at the pub last night and I immediately hurled myself into the quiet repetition of a large portion of the act that the line was from in Britten's operatic version of the play. Gah. I love Britten so much. I've been listening to his ceremony of carols lately and I forgot just how beautiful his rendition of "There is No Rose of Such Virtue" can be. I'm such a nerd sometimes.
It's funny. I usually have a little bit of trouble bringing art songs to life because they just always feel like they're about the same thing: love. I mean, yadda yadda yadda flowers kissed on the hand our love will burn always like a flaming golden hawk in my loins... Well, maybe not that last part, but still. It's kind of formulaic. However, I finally figured out how to convey them in spite of their sometimes lacking lyrics. It's all about painting a picture in vocal effects and facial expressions, but it doesn't necessarily have to be the same picture as the one the text is trying to convey. For instance, I'm singing Barber's "The Daisies" right now, and the lyrics go along the lines of "In the scented bud of the morning o, when the windy grass went rippling far, I saw my dear one walking slow in the field where the daisies are..." and all that jazz. It's nice, it's cute, but if I put myself in a mind frame where I felt the same things as the song is trying to convey, it suddenly all clicks. Granted, I was envisioning busy streets and freezing cold and laughing in spite of awkward conversation lulls, but it worked. All the stress was gone and I was singing just like I was walking home in the morning.
I've gotten in some quality bonding this weekend:
-Devon and I spoke on the phone for a good while. Her man bought her jewelry, so that's always good. She's visiting in January.
-Hillary sent me incriminating photos of the final girl's night. She's coming to Montreal this weekend!
-I had a phone conversation with Bek that lasted all through shopping, snacking and walking from Strathcona to Solin. She sang me the Mr. Clean jingle.
-Iris and I went through our old journals and compared emo poetry.
-The homohop was fun. Iris, Bob, Marisa, Brescia and copious amounts of Adonis-like music boys were there for my winding pleasure.
-Trys and I had dinner/a theory party/pub time with Jae and much much much geeky Bach time.
-I got to hear poor busted ribbed Laney go on about how life has picked up substantially since last time we got to talk.
-Snuggling + movie = fun.
I just kind of feel like I still haven't found my niche in Montreal. I mean, I'm getting there. I'm meeting more people, I'm meeting people I enjoy spending time with and for the first time, I was laying on the floor in the Shatner club lounge and thought "Damn, I'm at McGill and I'm functioning and I don't feel awkward just sprawling out here like it was my appartment or something. That's kind of cool."
I always have so much more to say, but I'm off to listen to more beautiful music.