LJ Idol: Some Assembly Required
I grew up in balconies, choir lofts and rehearsal halls. Throughout my childhood, my mother was either employed as an organist or choir director, so I spent many of my young hours staying quiet and unseen in the company of organ pipes and choir robes, listening to the music. And all these years later, though The Church and I have parted ways, choral music still touches my spirit like no other.
My senior year in high school was my first to take choir, since in our school it was a "free credit" for people who weren't packing their transcripts for college. By then my transcript was pretty well packed and I thought it would be fun. I didn't expect it to lead me to one of the greatest musical experiences of my life.
Shortly after the school year began, the choir director approached us about auditions for All-State Choir. I had been to district band competitions, so I was glad to give it a try. The audition material instructed us to prepare a solo and to purchase the sheet music for "Jubilate Deo" by Giovanni Gabrieli. As mentioned, I had been around choral music all my life, but when this piece arrived I was surprised at the size of it. It seemed wrong to call it "sheet music." It was a small book. It was written in eight parts, so there were two each of soprano, alto, tenor and bass.
I settled on first alto, though my mom strongly nudged me toward second soprano. She has a soprano bias, and I liked having the harmony of the alto part (plus, I didn't want to stress over the high notes in an early morning audition). I learned the part and sang it everywhere I went for the next few weeks.
I should mention, this was 1978, well before Amazon or iTunes or YouTube. I'd never heard the whole anthem. My mom sang the first soprano line with me a few times, but beyond what my mind could make of reading the other parts alongside mine, I had no idea what the piece as a whole would sound like.
We left town in the wee hours of audition day and arrived at a college in the center of the state. The halls of the music building were filled with the voices of hundreds of high school kids, laughing, talking, and vocalizing, nervous and excited about the day's activities. We registered and were randomly assigned to groups of eight, which meant most of us were auditioning with seven complete strangers.
It didn't take long to realize our groups consisted of one person auditioning for each of the eight parts. We would be performing a capella, so any bobbles on a part would be immediately apparent. When the time came for my group of eight to take the warm-up room, we quickly introduced ourselves and agreed to spend the rest of the time on the group piece. We took our starting pitches, and began.
Three or four measures in, I realized I was crying. I was holding my part because I had rehearsed so much. My mouth was on auto-pilot while my brain was taking in the magic of it.
Our voices were wrapping around each other, like waves rolling to the shore, like tree limbs swaying in a springtime windstorm. We were singing in Latin, "Jubilate Deo, omnis terra, Alleluia." All the weeks I'd been singing my single part, it held about as much meaning to me as the dead language I did not understand.
But when each of us brought our well-rehearsed talents to that room and the eight parts came together, the meaning transcended language. It said, "Shout with joy to God all over the Earth. Alleuia."
Performing in All-State choir was an amazing experience for another post, but when I think back to those days, I most often go back to that warm-up room, where seven strangers and I made magic together.
My senior year in high school was my first to take choir, since in our school it was a "free credit" for people who weren't packing their transcripts for college. By then my transcript was pretty well packed and I thought it would be fun. I didn't expect it to lead me to one of the greatest musical experiences of my life.
Shortly after the school year began, the choir director approached us about auditions for All-State Choir. I had been to district band competitions, so I was glad to give it a try. The audition material instructed us to prepare a solo and to purchase the sheet music for "Jubilate Deo" by Giovanni Gabrieli. As mentioned, I had been around choral music all my life, but when this piece arrived I was surprised at the size of it. It seemed wrong to call it "sheet music." It was a small book. It was written in eight parts, so there were two each of soprano, alto, tenor and bass.
I settled on first alto, though my mom strongly nudged me toward second soprano. She has a soprano bias, and I liked having the harmony of the alto part (plus, I didn't want to stress over the high notes in an early morning audition). I learned the part and sang it everywhere I went for the next few weeks.
I should mention, this was 1978, well before Amazon or iTunes or YouTube. I'd never heard the whole anthem. My mom sang the first soprano line with me a few times, but beyond what my mind could make of reading the other parts alongside mine, I had no idea what the piece as a whole would sound like.
We left town in the wee hours of audition day and arrived at a college in the center of the state. The halls of the music building were filled with the voices of hundreds of high school kids, laughing, talking, and vocalizing, nervous and excited about the day's activities. We registered and were randomly assigned to groups of eight, which meant most of us were auditioning with seven complete strangers.
It didn't take long to realize our groups consisted of one person auditioning for each of the eight parts. We would be performing a capella, so any bobbles on a part would be immediately apparent. When the time came for my group of eight to take the warm-up room, we quickly introduced ourselves and agreed to spend the rest of the time on the group piece. We took our starting pitches, and began.
Three or four measures in, I realized I was crying. I was holding my part because I had rehearsed so much. My mouth was on auto-pilot while my brain was taking in the magic of it.
Our voices were wrapping around each other, like waves rolling to the shore, like tree limbs swaying in a springtime windstorm. We were singing in Latin, "Jubilate Deo, omnis terra, Alleluia." All the weeks I'd been singing my single part, it held about as much meaning to me as the dead language I did not understand.
But when each of us brought our well-rehearsed talents to that room and the eight parts came together, the meaning transcended language. It said, "Shout with joy to God all over the Earth. Alleuia."
Performing in All-State choir was an amazing experience for another post, but when I think back to those days, I most often go back to that warm-up room, where seven strangers and I made magic together.
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