Wherein the Authoress Has An Awesome Weekend
I feel a little like Chester A. Bum when I say this, but OH MY GOD I HAD THE BEST WEEKEND EVER YOU GUISE.
Well, the beginning of it was good. On Friday night, I went to a concert that my old high school orchestra was having. It was a Halloween-themed affair, and while some of it was a little painful to listen to, my group (the advanced class), though smaller in size and quieter since five seniors (including myself) left last year, sounded excellent. After the concert, I managed to go to my old orchestra room and surprise them. I hadn't seen most of them since late this summer, and missed them terribly. And they sure missed me, too- they all came running up to me and gave me hugs, saying how good it was to see me and asking how I'd been. Then afterward, four of them (two violins and our section of two cellos; the latter are the cutest couple on the face of the earth!) and I went to Zesto's for dinner. We sat in the big booth and ate and laughed our asses off, as they filled me in on how things were going in the orchestra and in the school paper I was an editor of, while I told them about college. I was so gratified to know that they still counted me as a friend. It was just like old times, in a good way. :)
On Saturday morning, I dragged myself from my lovely, warm bed to attend a Sacred Harp Sing, sponsored by Seed & Feed, held from 10 to 2:30. My chorale professor had let us know of this a few weeks ago, and I was eager to see what real Sacred Harp was like. I had seen the documentary Awake, My Soul on PBS, and grown very curious about the style of singing, not to mention the notation system.
This will be difficult to explain for the non-musicians out there, so I'll put it like this: for the musically challenged, normal music is notated with little squished ovals with tails on a series of five horizontal lines, called the staff. The difference between this and Sacred Harp music is that instead of just little squished ovals, there are four shapes for the notes, with names that come from solfege (you know, 'do re mi' and all that)- a squished oval (called sol), a sideways triangle (fa), a diamond (mi) and a square (la). And it's just those symbols, repeated over and over again.
You know what? I'm going to let Wikipedia do the heavy lifting here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shape_notes#Shape_notes
So I got a ride from my father to the Presbyterian Church on N. Druid Hills near Emory, where the Sing was being held (and yes, I'm pretty sure 'the sing' is the proper terminology). I arrived a few minutes late and wasn't sure where to find the group at first. As I wandered around trying to find the Fellowship Hall, as stereotypical as it sounds, I heard them first before I saw them.
When I followed the sound, I found a group of maybe 50 people, their chairs arranged in the traditional square, all facing in. And my god, were they loud. I quickly put my stuff on a table and found a few other girls who I recognized the ASC Chorale, who were seated in the tenor section (Not my usual section- I'm a mezzo soprano currently moonlighting as an alto- but often times the tenor part was higher than the treble part). I shared a book at first before a loaner was passed down to me. After a few songs, it was apparent that we didn't really know what we were doing- before a song's verses are sung, the singers do a version just saying the names of the notes, and I didn't quite have the note names down...
So our professor (who brought her darling baby twins to the Sing- "Gotta start 'em early," as my own musical mother says) came over from the tenor section to sit behind us, and a nice lady, an old pro at Sacred Heart, came to sit right next to me to help us out. As she kept the beat with her hand, I noticed an Agnes Scott class ring on her finger... In fact, the three other ASC girls and I discovered that there were not one but two ASC Alumnae at the Sing! We discussed this over a covered dish lunch, held around noon.
The actual singing was remarkable. The style of singing, without going all music theory on you, is what one expects from something that is primarily kept alive by Primitive Baptists in the deep South. It has a rustic, almost primal feel to its harmonies. The best way I can describe it is- music that you didn't know you wanted to hear.
After a few hours of singing, I had a better grasp on the note names, and I was sightreading LIKE A BOSS. I wanted to buy the book we were singing out of, but left all my cash at home, which made me a sad panda. I wanted desperately to have a book of my very own, to study the music, to see how it works...
Luckily, though, I picked up a few flyers for a few more sings in November and December, including a biweekly one held by the couple that produced Awake, My Soul in Midtown. And I am so going.
That night, I had dinner with my Dad (Mom's out of town) at the Landmark Diner on Cheshire Bridge- he got a Philly Cheese Steak, I got an gyro. (And yes, that it the proper indefinite article- it's not pronounced as one would a gyroscope; it's pronounced 'ee-ro'. This is something of a pet peeve of mine.)
Anyhoo, we had a really lovely time. Sometimes, as awful as it sounds, I forget to contact my father specifically, because my mom's easier to reach (she texts), and we have more in common than I do with my dad. Now, I love my dad something fierce, but our relationship has stalled somewhat. He hasn't quite accepted me as adult, and I sometimes feel like he isn't interested in what I have to say...
Alright, the 1 AM train just honked its way down the Decatur line, so I must go to sleep...
Well, the beginning of it was good. On Friday night, I went to a concert that my old high school orchestra was having. It was a Halloween-themed affair, and while some of it was a little painful to listen to, my group (the advanced class), though smaller in size and quieter since five seniors (including myself) left last year, sounded excellent. After the concert, I managed to go to my old orchestra room and surprise them. I hadn't seen most of them since late this summer, and missed them terribly. And they sure missed me, too- they all came running up to me and gave me hugs, saying how good it was to see me and asking how I'd been. Then afterward, four of them (two violins and our section of two cellos; the latter are the cutest couple on the face of the earth!) and I went to Zesto's for dinner. We sat in the big booth and ate and laughed our asses off, as they filled me in on how things were going in the orchestra and in the school paper I was an editor of, while I told them about college. I was so gratified to know that they still counted me as a friend. It was just like old times, in a good way. :)
On Saturday morning, I dragged myself from my lovely, warm bed to attend a Sacred Harp Sing, sponsored by Seed & Feed, held from 10 to 2:30. My chorale professor had let us know of this a few weeks ago, and I was eager to see what real Sacred Harp was like. I had seen the documentary Awake, My Soul on PBS, and grown very curious about the style of singing, not to mention the notation system.
This will be difficult to explain for the non-musicians out there, so I'll put it like this: for the musically challenged, normal music is notated with little squished ovals with tails on a series of five horizontal lines, called the staff. The difference between this and Sacred Harp music is that instead of just little squished ovals, there are four shapes for the notes, with names that come from solfege (you know, 'do re mi' and all that)- a squished oval (called sol), a sideways triangle (fa), a diamond (mi) and a square (la). And it's just those symbols, repeated over and over again.
You know what? I'm going to let Wikipedia do the heavy lifting here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shape_notes#Shape_notes
So I got a ride from my father to the Presbyterian Church on N. Druid Hills near Emory, where the Sing was being held (and yes, I'm pretty sure 'the sing' is the proper terminology). I arrived a few minutes late and wasn't sure where to find the group at first. As I wandered around trying to find the Fellowship Hall, as stereotypical as it sounds, I heard them first before I saw them.
When I followed the sound, I found a group of maybe 50 people, their chairs arranged in the traditional square, all facing in. And my god, were they loud. I quickly put my stuff on a table and found a few other girls who I recognized the ASC Chorale, who were seated in the tenor section (Not my usual section- I'm a mezzo soprano currently moonlighting as an alto- but often times the tenor part was higher than the treble part). I shared a book at first before a loaner was passed down to me. After a few songs, it was apparent that we didn't really know what we were doing- before a song's verses are sung, the singers do a version just saying the names of the notes, and I didn't quite have the note names down...
So our professor (who brought her darling baby twins to the Sing- "Gotta start 'em early," as my own musical mother says) came over from the tenor section to sit behind us, and a nice lady, an old pro at Sacred Heart, came to sit right next to me to help us out. As she kept the beat with her hand, I noticed an Agnes Scott class ring on her finger... In fact, the three other ASC girls and I discovered that there were not one but two ASC Alumnae at the Sing! We discussed this over a covered dish lunch, held around noon.
The actual singing was remarkable. The style of singing, without going all music theory on you, is what one expects from something that is primarily kept alive by Primitive Baptists in the deep South. It has a rustic, almost primal feel to its harmonies. The best way I can describe it is- music that you didn't know you wanted to hear.
After a few hours of singing, I had a better grasp on the note names, and I was sightreading LIKE A BOSS. I wanted to buy the book we were singing out of, but left all my cash at home, which made me a sad panda. I wanted desperately to have a book of my very own, to study the music, to see how it works...
Luckily, though, I picked up a few flyers for a few more sings in November and December, including a biweekly one held by the couple that produced Awake, My Soul in Midtown. And I am so going.
That night, I had dinner with my Dad (Mom's out of town) at the Landmark Diner on Cheshire Bridge- he got a Philly Cheese Steak, I got an gyro. (And yes, that it the proper indefinite article- it's not pronounced as one would a gyroscope; it's pronounced 'ee-ro'. This is something of a pet peeve of mine.)
Anyhoo, we had a really lovely time. Sometimes, as awful as it sounds, I forget to contact my father specifically, because my mom's easier to reach (she texts), and we have more in common than I do with my dad. Now, I love my dad something fierce, but our relationship has stalled somewhat. He hasn't quite accepted me as adult, and I sometimes feel like he isn't interested in what I have to say...
Alright, the 1 AM train just honked its way down the Decatur line, so I must go to sleep...