Well, yesterday I stayed in (did I mention that bad weather just compounds all the things that put me in a bad mood - feeling hemmed in by a lack of money, lack of free time, and caregiving?) and spoke to my therapist on the phone. I had emailed her my New Year's resolutions, as well as answers to some questions that I found in the New York Times about making a Mission Statement. Well, the latter went belly up, but we had an interesting discussion about the former. Then today I found an article online called "The Seven Myths about Habits", which I won't repost here, but which did have a few nuggets that I identified with. It used as an example that if you are constantly tempted by, say, chocolate chip cookies, the issue isn't that you need will power, it's that you need to create an environment that is mostly cookie-free. They certainly tell you that in 12 step meetings.
So to extrapolate, if my negative thinking is a bad habit, I need to change my environment, but how? I mostly toggle back and forth between my apartment, where I am alone working or practicing, except for interactions that I choose to engage in with people online or on Facebook (my partner is the only person I speak with on the phone), my partner's house, where we are pretty much alone together, choir rehearsals, church, voice lessons, Pilates classes, the grocery store, and the laundry room where I see and chat with neighbors. So as I've been saying for some time (see Resolution 7) it is my environment that is making me sick, in the sense of spiritual sickness.
I was reminded of this a few days ago when I had a very interesting interaction, one that I wish I could have more of, if only I knew where to find them.
I needed a plumber because there was no heat in my bathroom. After he finished looking at the pipe, he had to wait for the super so I invited him to sit at my dining table and asked him if he wanted a glass of water. He said yes, so while he sat there, we talked. He noticed that my electronic keyboard was on the table (shows how often I have people over for a meal, at least one where we sit at a table) and asked me if I played the piano. I told him, not really (I took piano lessons as a kid, but by now can only play with the right hand, which is enough to learn music I am singing), but that I sang. He then mentioned that his 5 year old daughter had a toy keyboard, and that he wanted her to have real piano lessons, because he knew that you had to start kids early. I asked him where he lived and he said Harlem, so I told him about the Manhattan School of Music. Imagine!! Me telling someone about the Manhattan School of Music, that institution whose graduates are part and parcel of the tsunami of talent that I have so often mentioned that makes me feel like I am drowning. (Even their graduates from decades past who never sang, like the wife of my neighbor the music critic, have their noses in the air around me.) Then I also mentioned Harlem School of the Arts, which he said he had heard of. I said I didn't know where there were free music lessons for children but I said there must be somewhere. He also mentioned hoping to get his daughter into a magnet school (I don't think that was the term he used; he was from Ecuador and his English, while totally understandable, was not that good), so I told him that when he was at the school for an interview he could ask about their music programs. In any case, this was the kind of interchange that I have oh so rarely, and that I treasure. Imagine! Appearing in someone else's eyes as someone with knowledge.
As he was leaving, he told me how "pretty" everything in my apartment looked. Again, this is not an experience that I have very often. I have been told this from time to time by a few people as I have a lot of artwork on my walls and some antique furniture, but to most people (did I say that probably one third of the people I know own two places of residence and at least another third own a coop that is three times the size of this studio apartment?) it is just a dump, sort of like an older woman's version of a college dormitory filled with books, CDs, and with no light.
I'm sure the city is filled with people who were never in a high school orchestra or school play, who did not go to college (or have technical degrees from community colleges), and who "think they might like" classical music but are not so immersed in it up to their eyeballs that the best reaction they will ever have to something I produce and sing in is a polite attempt to search for a compliment (that is if they even show up at all). So why don't I know these people? Why am I always around people who make me feel "less than"? Not on purpose, of course.
So for me it's not the cookies or the beer or the lottery tickets, it's the blogs of working singers, the idle banter of fellow choir members about their years at conservatories, in college theater programs, even high school bands. It's the little bios of the performers in all the nooks and crannies all over the city that showcase classical music.
I really really want to break this habit of negative thinking; but first I need an environment in which to shine, sparkle, and, yes sometimes, lead.
Sunday I went to my partner's house and brought the Gay 90s Songbook, as I had promised, so that she could sing some of the songs preferatory to (maybe) going to try out for that Alzheimers chorus in the Spring. She is very musical, and singing some of the songs brought back happy memories for her. Of course with her COPD she has no range really. But she was smiling and swaying in time to the music and if she faltered, I sang for her. And when we got to something unfamiliar, I attempted to "solfege" it: something I didn't even think I could do!! (Maybe that's how I need to learn to sight-sing, not with a textbook!).
Maybe I should just try to start small?
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
Knowing Who Your Friends Are
This sounds so simple. When I was growing up, I always seemed to have a friend who was thinner and more self-confident, who made me feel fat and coarse (details here ). That, in and of itself is not surprising as that scenario is played out over and over again. It's just human nature, I suppose, and probably there were girls who felt that way around me (probably not at 9 or 10, but certainly by the time I was 13 or 14). Just read Great Expectations.
As I got older, of course, these things became harder to detect. I have done a good job of cutting all the snarky diva/vocal pedagogue/opinionators off my Facebook and blog feeds. I still read things from voice teachers who stick to vocal technique and repertoire suggestions, but I really don't need to hear about how amateur(ish) classical singers are murdering Art. It's not really that different from telling a woman who wears a size 16 that she's "murdering" someone's high fashion dress originally designed for a size 0. Somewhere there will be people who think the size 16 woman looks beautiful in the dress, just as somewhere there will be people who think my singing (at its best, today, right now, which is all I can do right now) sounds "professional".
But people who snark are not the only enemy (and FWIW, snark is bad even if it's not directed at me personally; people who see the need to write this way are not spiritually healthy people). People who ignore and snub me, whether intentionally or unintentionally, are not my friends either, and I should stop expecting things from them.
So basically it boils down to this. The choir director is never going to thank me for anything in front of the group (never mind that Wednesday I held together the entire alto section because, in the absence of the only trained alto, I was the only one who can sing that part, which regularly goes up to an E and an F). He will thank Little Miss for her high C, and the operatic tenor for his high A (did that Wednesday), but he will never thank me. (I had to laugh because he said "well altos, you seem to be doing pretty well singing up there. See?" as if it was some kind of mystery that he hadn't figured out!!!!) He is also never going to be proactive about inviting anyone to anything that I am performing in, never going to forward electronic flyers, never going to say "Let's come and show our support".
So I need to just write him off. Show up there (because right now for me it's the only game in town; even the Alzheimer chorus is on the line because my partner may back out regardless of the time of year) sing my part perfectly, if it's something that I can sing like a solo do so, pretend I am a professional section leader in terms of my level of "professionalism" and, if I want to sing a solo, contact the new Director and arrange to schedule something. If I mostly only get to sing in the Spanish service, that's fine. It has gotten very large and I can sing things in Spanish or Latin. And sometimes people from the regular services come, because they want to improve their Spanish. I was going to sing one of the Nin Christmas songs, but that got scrapped because of a scheduling conflict, so I will sing "Et Exsultavit" on Transfiguration Sunday. It will be such a pleasure to be able to sing with my "real" voice and not try to make myself sound like a light soprano to please the choir director, or my other coach, who because she herself is a light soprano, tries to get me to use technical tricks that are not suitable for my voice type.
In more optimistic news, the Giovanna Seymour scene is going very well. I am a bit nervous about that one top A in the beginning that I have to hold for a long time, but if I drop my larynx, raise my palate, and stay buoyant (the last is the hardest because I so often feel down and discouraged and it somatizes itself) I can do it. As for the very high part at the end, there is one top A that my teacher told me not to sing. It is the very last one before the high climax (which is easy because I will have had plenty of rest) and is part of a fast passage - the last one, so it is easy to run out of breath. It all goes so fast he said I should just stay on the F sharp. He also told me that I should try singing the entire scene as I would in the concert, giving myself the full amount of rest I would have if he were singing. So to do that, I had to use the keyboard rather than the pitch pipe. The keyboard is near my front door, which meant that yesterday I sang through the entire scene fairly close to my front door, which meant that it was fully audible to the music critic down the hall. People don't understand how intimidating it is to sing with neighbors like that. He is someone else who pretty much ignores me. I mean he is a lovely gentleman (even once offered to take my garbage down when we met in the elevator) but he mostly ignores the fact that I sing and chooses not to engage with me about it.
What's good is that I think my teacher is (finally) impressed with all the progress I have made and now takes me seriously, which I don't think he did before.
I am also spinning my wheels regarding what to do about Carmen. I think that performance piece has "legs", either to be performed as I did it last year, or to repackage as a one woman show, where I did all the readings and interspersed the singing in little fragments (I have seen plenty of one woman shows with music where this kind of thing was done). The question is how to market it. One big problem is that I have no "partner", by which I mean a prestigious institution to piggy-back it onto. Considering how big and diverse this city is, there have to groups of people who want to (or think they should want to) learn something about classical music and wouldn't know Juilliard from a hole in the ground. I could get them excited about the story because it has lots of sex and violence and is about racial minorities of a sort.
So let's make 2015 the year of Marketing.
As I got older, of course, these things became harder to detect. I have done a good job of cutting all the snarky diva/vocal pedagogue/opinionators off my Facebook and blog feeds. I still read things from voice teachers who stick to vocal technique and repertoire suggestions, but I really don't need to hear about how amateur(ish) classical singers are murdering Art. It's not really that different from telling a woman who wears a size 16 that she's "murdering" someone's high fashion dress originally designed for a size 0. Somewhere there will be people who think the size 16 woman looks beautiful in the dress, just as somewhere there will be people who think my singing (at its best, today, right now, which is all I can do right now) sounds "professional".
But people who snark are not the only enemy (and FWIW, snark is bad even if it's not directed at me personally; people who see the need to write this way are not spiritually healthy people). People who ignore and snub me, whether intentionally or unintentionally, are not my friends either, and I should stop expecting things from them.
So basically it boils down to this. The choir director is never going to thank me for anything in front of the group (never mind that Wednesday I held together the entire alto section because, in the absence of the only trained alto, I was the only one who can sing that part, which regularly goes up to an E and an F). He will thank Little Miss for her high C, and the operatic tenor for his high A (did that Wednesday), but he will never thank me. (I had to laugh because he said "well altos, you seem to be doing pretty well singing up there. See?" as if it was some kind of mystery that he hadn't figured out!!!!) He is also never going to be proactive about inviting anyone to anything that I am performing in, never going to forward electronic flyers, never going to say "Let's come and show our support".
So I need to just write him off. Show up there (because right now for me it's the only game in town; even the Alzheimer chorus is on the line because my partner may back out regardless of the time of year) sing my part perfectly, if it's something that I can sing like a solo do so, pretend I am a professional section leader in terms of my level of "professionalism" and, if I want to sing a solo, contact the new Director and arrange to schedule something. If I mostly only get to sing in the Spanish service, that's fine. It has gotten very large and I can sing things in Spanish or Latin. And sometimes people from the regular services come, because they want to improve their Spanish. I was going to sing one of the Nin Christmas songs, but that got scrapped because of a scheduling conflict, so I will sing "Et Exsultavit" on Transfiguration Sunday. It will be such a pleasure to be able to sing with my "real" voice and not try to make myself sound like a light soprano to please the choir director, or my other coach, who because she herself is a light soprano, tries to get me to use technical tricks that are not suitable for my voice type.
In more optimistic news, the Giovanna Seymour scene is going very well. I am a bit nervous about that one top A in the beginning that I have to hold for a long time, but if I drop my larynx, raise my palate, and stay buoyant (the last is the hardest because I so often feel down and discouraged and it somatizes itself) I can do it. As for the very high part at the end, there is one top A that my teacher told me not to sing. It is the very last one before the high climax (which is easy because I will have had plenty of rest) and is part of a fast passage - the last one, so it is easy to run out of breath. It all goes so fast he said I should just stay on the F sharp. He also told me that I should try singing the entire scene as I would in the concert, giving myself the full amount of rest I would have if he were singing. So to do that, I had to use the keyboard rather than the pitch pipe. The keyboard is near my front door, which meant that yesterday I sang through the entire scene fairly close to my front door, which meant that it was fully audible to the music critic down the hall. People don't understand how intimidating it is to sing with neighbors like that. He is someone else who pretty much ignores me. I mean he is a lovely gentleman (even once offered to take my garbage down when we met in the elevator) but he mostly ignores the fact that I sing and chooses not to engage with me about it.
What's good is that I think my teacher is (finally) impressed with all the progress I have made and now takes me seriously, which I don't think he did before.
I am also spinning my wheels regarding what to do about Carmen. I think that performance piece has "legs", either to be performed as I did it last year, or to repackage as a one woman show, where I did all the readings and interspersed the singing in little fragments (I have seen plenty of one woman shows with music where this kind of thing was done). The question is how to market it. One big problem is that I have no "partner", by which I mean a prestigious institution to piggy-back it onto. Considering how big and diverse this city is, there have to groups of people who want to (or think they should want to) learn something about classical music and wouldn't know Juilliard from a hole in the ground. I could get them excited about the story because it has lots of sex and violence and is about racial minorities of a sort.
So let's make 2015 the year of Marketing.
Friday, January 16, 2015
It's Not What You Know, It's Who(m) You Know
(As for the title, there was a long discussion thread in one of my copyeditor online groups about whether to use the m. It was decided that using it is correct grammar, and that not using it is idiomatic, in that "It's not what you know it's who you know" has become a little jingle.)
Despite my having had a pleasant time at choir practice and trying to work on anger management, yesterday I had a huge meltdown. It had to do with my partner's having a minor health problem that she allowed to get out of hand, with repercussions (I don't want to go into these here; I do respect her privacy in some regards) that led to my having to drop everything and run over there yesterday. I had promised not to be "mad" at her, which I wasn't, although when I got there and saw the state the apartment was in I burst into tears. Then things just went from bad to worse. The problem is that I am awash up to my neck in people who went to Ivy League schools, have multiple graduate degrees, have music or theater degrees, have fellowships, are going to school in early middle age because they have "connections" (more on that in a minute, as that is what prompted the title of this post) and then what I have to contend with is my dreary dull work, and someone else's mega dysfunction, which is very wearing no matter how much I love her. The contrast between my life and these people's (considering that we all started out in the same place socioeconomically, more or less) is just sometimes more than I can bear.
As I was leaving yesterday, after we had patched things up, my partner said something so profound, it shook me to my core. She said "take care of 'us'. 'Us' is real. All the things you want are not real, are they, if you don't have them?" I wish so very very much that I could believe this. I mean really believe it. But you see I don't, because the things I want are being lived out by 90% of the people I know every hour of every day. These are not things that I see on tv or read about in the newspaper. Lincoln Center is not someplace I heard of and want to visit someday (something a relative of my partner's said recently). I have to pass it every single day when I go to the grocery store, the drug store, the bank, or the subway. That mega marker of my my failure and irrelevance, towering over me never letting me forget how insignificant and pathetic I am.
Then I saw this picture
Despite my having had a pleasant time at choir practice and trying to work on anger management, yesterday I had a huge meltdown. It had to do with my partner's having a minor health problem that she allowed to get out of hand, with repercussions (I don't want to go into these here; I do respect her privacy in some regards) that led to my having to drop everything and run over there yesterday. I had promised not to be "mad" at her, which I wasn't, although when I got there and saw the state the apartment was in I burst into tears. Then things just went from bad to worse. The problem is that I am awash up to my neck in people who went to Ivy League schools, have multiple graduate degrees, have music or theater degrees, have fellowships, are going to school in early middle age because they have "connections" (more on that in a minute, as that is what prompted the title of this post) and then what I have to contend with is my dreary dull work, and someone else's mega dysfunction, which is very wearing no matter how much I love her. The contrast between my life and these people's (considering that we all started out in the same place socioeconomically, more or less) is just sometimes more than I can bear.
As I was leaving yesterday, after we had patched things up, my partner said something so profound, it shook me to my core. She said "take care of 'us'. 'Us' is real. All the things you want are not real, are they, if you don't have them?" I wish so very very much that I could believe this. I mean really believe it. But you see I don't, because the things I want are being lived out by 90% of the people I know every hour of every day. These are not things that I see on tv or read about in the newspaper. Lincoln Center is not someplace I heard of and want to visit someday (something a relative of my partner's said recently). I have to pass it every single day when I go to the grocery store, the drug store, the bank, or the subway. That mega marker of my my failure and irrelevance, towering over me never letting me forget how insignificant and pathetic I am.
Then I saw this picture
on Facebook, liked it, and shared it. And thought I was grounded.
No sooner than I did that, than I found out that the woman I referred to in the previous post, who is getting a multi-art degree, is getting this free of charge because her husband teaches theater at the university in question. So there you have it. I don't begrudge her this, she is a good person. But that is why she is doing what she is doing, and I am (not) doing what I am (not) doing. It does matter whom you know. Yes, you need talent, and you need hard work. People aren't handed something for nothing. But you need to be in that milieu. If you weren't born into it, you need to go to school for it when you are young, meet people, and maybe marry one of them. And then that network is there.
So how can I get past this? How can I stop sobbing and screaming that I have all this talent (which I have been told by other people) that no one cares about? That I want to be somebody? Maybe it would be easier if I were Christian. Christians believe that the last is first and the least is best. But do they really? The church I sing at does many many many good works (which is why I give them a charitable donation) but it is the Ivy Leaguers, the conservatory graduates, and the people working on and off Broadway who are the "stars" there, not the health aides and the people who work in the food pantry.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
How Can I Compete with Total Immersion? (Reprise)
Well, yesterday was a day of "the Bitter and the Sweet" (another oft-used blog post title).
I have been spared playing backup to Little Miss; the choir director scrapped the Moses Hogan spiritual for this Sunday because we don't have enough people. We are singing a lovely arrangement of "Precious Lord" instead.
And I got to really rock the Argento "Gloria". It's so nice to be able to really sing; that is, not have to either be singing soprano and trying to keep the volume down (if there are two soprano parts this is less of a problem, and I can really sing when I'm on second, also) or singing alto and barely getting to sing a D once every few pages.
So I am determined to be letter perfect with the notes next week.
But also, I was disappointed that my partner decided to opt out of going to the try outs for the Alzheimer chorus. The weather is bad, she doesn't feel well, and she said she hasn't sung for a while. The good news is that the director of the chorus said that the chorus year is divided into three seasons, each culminating in a concert, so we can come in in April and try out for the next concert. As for trying to get my partner to sing, as she seems to have "lost" the old Lutheran hymnal that I brought her, I will bring a book of Gay 90s songs that I have, and we can try singing those. She loves them.
At Tuesday's therapy session I came in angry; mostly anticipating the dreaded Moses Hogan experience, Little Miss showing off (that's not fair, really, she would just be singing while the women with lower voices were grunting out notes), and the response she would get. So my therapist said if I was that angry that much of the time (mostly about what I've called the tsunami of talented people that I feel is pushing me further and further toward the ocean floor, no matter how much technical progress I make, not to mention all the thoughtless 20 and 30 somethings who take up more than their fair share of the space in subway cars and elevators if not with their backpacks then with their loud conversations and high jinks) I need to write down every time I feel angry and what else I feel as well. She said I probably also felt sad or hurt. So I have been doing that. It is an interesting exercise, because of course as soon as I stop to write something down I no longer feel angry.
She also asked me why I was still singing if it made me unhappy. I told her that singing didn't make me feel unhappy and that in fact nothing made me happier than singing well. Nothing! And I feel that I have made so much technical progress that it amazes me. It's the closed doors that make me angry. Being written off because I am old and don't have a music degree. Because I don't move in a community of musicians. Because I don't live on the periphery of the people who sing at the Met and perform in orchestras at Avery Fisher Hall. The people I am talking about all do. I have nothing except how well I sing at any given moment (and yes, my personal charisma, which is huge). I have no resume, no names to drop, no past, and, therefore, in people's eyes, no future.
So this morning I woke up feeling really good about last night's rehearsal (I am much more appreciated in the alto section because there, you see, I am the "Little Miss", the one who can always sing that F that makes everyone else nervous, the way in the soprano section she can ace that A.)
Then I read a Facebook post by a woman in the congregation who is a lovely person, but she exemplifies who I am up against. She is probably in her late 30s (she can't be all that young based on how long she says she has been married) and has put together a pastiche of things to do for a living in the arts, both visual and performing, as well as teaching, both for pay and as a volunteer. Her husband has a paying job in the theater. Now she has enrolled in all kinds of classes at prestigious institutions (I have no idea who is paying for this). So she lives and breathes art, all day long. And there are many of these people all around.
So it comes back, to some extent, to the Wizard of Oz, who told the Scarecrow that he didn't need a brain, he needed a diploma. There are no signifiers in my life that I am a performer. Lots of people sing in church choirs. So I sing Donizetti in the bathroom. Big deal. Not even the neighbors care, because they go to the Met all the time. It's around the corner after all.
That's one reason I write this blog. It is about singing and very little else. Occasionally I make reference to something else, but to me, other than caring for my partner, these things are not important.
I mean I think if God took away my voice (through some kind of health challenge) I would not fall apart. I would find something else to do. But as long as this huge voice is beating its wings inside me, wanting to soar and take people's breath away, wanting to be heard, wanting to put me front and center somewhere, no matter how tiny, I will never, never, never, stop.
I have been spared playing backup to Little Miss; the choir director scrapped the Moses Hogan spiritual for this Sunday because we don't have enough people. We are singing a lovely arrangement of "Precious Lord" instead.
And I got to really rock the Argento "Gloria". It's so nice to be able to really sing; that is, not have to either be singing soprano and trying to keep the volume down (if there are two soprano parts this is less of a problem, and I can really sing when I'm on second, also) or singing alto and barely getting to sing a D once every few pages.
So I am determined to be letter perfect with the notes next week.
But also, I was disappointed that my partner decided to opt out of going to the try outs for the Alzheimer chorus. The weather is bad, she doesn't feel well, and she said she hasn't sung for a while. The good news is that the director of the chorus said that the chorus year is divided into three seasons, each culminating in a concert, so we can come in in April and try out for the next concert. As for trying to get my partner to sing, as she seems to have "lost" the old Lutheran hymnal that I brought her, I will bring a book of Gay 90s songs that I have, and we can try singing those. She loves them.
At Tuesday's therapy session I came in angry; mostly anticipating the dreaded Moses Hogan experience, Little Miss showing off (that's not fair, really, she would just be singing while the women with lower voices were grunting out notes), and the response she would get. So my therapist said if I was that angry that much of the time (mostly about what I've called the tsunami of talented people that I feel is pushing me further and further toward the ocean floor, no matter how much technical progress I make, not to mention all the thoughtless 20 and 30 somethings who take up more than their fair share of the space in subway cars and elevators if not with their backpacks then with their loud conversations and high jinks) I need to write down every time I feel angry and what else I feel as well. She said I probably also felt sad or hurt. So I have been doing that. It is an interesting exercise, because of course as soon as I stop to write something down I no longer feel angry.
She also asked me why I was still singing if it made me unhappy. I told her that singing didn't make me feel unhappy and that in fact nothing made me happier than singing well. Nothing! And I feel that I have made so much technical progress that it amazes me. It's the closed doors that make me angry. Being written off because I am old and don't have a music degree. Because I don't move in a community of musicians. Because I don't live on the periphery of the people who sing at the Met and perform in orchestras at Avery Fisher Hall. The people I am talking about all do. I have nothing except how well I sing at any given moment (and yes, my personal charisma, which is huge). I have no resume, no names to drop, no past, and, therefore, in people's eyes, no future.
So this morning I woke up feeling really good about last night's rehearsal (I am much more appreciated in the alto section because there, you see, I am the "Little Miss", the one who can always sing that F that makes everyone else nervous, the way in the soprano section she can ace that A.)
Then I read a Facebook post by a woman in the congregation who is a lovely person, but she exemplifies who I am up against. She is probably in her late 30s (she can't be all that young based on how long she says she has been married) and has put together a pastiche of things to do for a living in the arts, both visual and performing, as well as teaching, both for pay and as a volunteer. Her husband has a paying job in the theater. Now she has enrolled in all kinds of classes at prestigious institutions (I have no idea who is paying for this). So she lives and breathes art, all day long. And there are many of these people all around.
So it comes back, to some extent, to the Wizard of Oz, who told the Scarecrow that he didn't need a brain, he needed a diploma. There are no signifiers in my life that I am a performer. Lots of people sing in church choirs. So I sing Donizetti in the bathroom. Big deal. Not even the neighbors care, because they go to the Met all the time. It's around the corner after all.
That's one reason I write this blog. It is about singing and very little else. Occasionally I make reference to something else, but to me, other than caring for my partner, these things are not important.
I mean I think if God took away my voice (through some kind of health challenge) I would not fall apart. I would find something else to do. But as long as this huge voice is beating its wings inside me, wanting to soar and take people's breath away, wanting to be heard, wanting to put me front and center somewhere, no matter how tiny, I will never, never, never, stop.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Looking Up-ish
I feel I owe it to readers to let you know that things don't look quite as bleak as they did on January 2, despite the murderous cold.
I went back to choir practice yesterday (over my partner's screaming objections; she thought I should stay home because of the weather) and it was less ire-provoking than I feared. Yes, we are singing yet another spiritual by Moses Hogan that is all about a high soprano showing off, with a few nice bits for men, and women with lower voices doing nothing but singing the same two or three notes over and over again, but we are also singing two pieces that I really like.
I have to make clear that my utter loathing of Hogan's choral works has nothing to do with race or musical snobbery and everything to do with being sick of women with lower voices being treated like second class citizens. Didn't the man ever listen to Marian Anderson?
Anyhow, as we are supposed to sing the piece in two weeks, little Miss will no doubt show up on the Sunday (she is not available on Wednesday nights any more, which makes her look even more like a prima donna, although I know that is not why she is doing it) and sing the solo (which overrides the entire piece).
Now that we have the schedule for Epiphany I contacted the Director about singing the Nin song in the Spanish service and I listed Martin Luther King Sunday as one of the dates I was available (the other being February 1 when our choir is not singing). Then either I can be excused from singing that piece altogether or I can just grunt my way through it (all it requires; I think the range for the second sopranos goes from middle C to the D toward the top of the staff, and there are no opportunities for lovely sustained singing for us) knowing that I will have something to look forward to, as the Spanish service is afterwards, at 12:30.
We are singing two pieces that I like. One, called "Adam Lay Ybounden" has some nice climactic "high" singing for the sopranos (meaning Gs, which are easy for me) and the other, Dominic Argento's "Gloria" will have something really special for me. I took a look at it and offered to sing the top alto part (it has four women's parts), which regularly goes up to an E and an F sharp. Also the altos do a lot of singing on their own as a group, so that is a venue in which I can shine and sing with my glorious big mezzo voice in a range that is not limited to my lower passaggio break and below (where most alto parts sit), but in fact sits mostly between the middle and the top of the staff where my voice is the strongest and I find it easiest to sing. And the sopranos often sing all together, often in a high range with words. It makes sense that for this piece the ranges are higher than for most choral pieces, because it apparently is from an opera called The Masque of Angels (which I had never heard of). If I sing in an opera chorus I would be singing the top line on the alto staff, because opera chorus parts more accurately mirror opera voice fachs. (I also see that there is a mezzo role in the opera. I am going to see if she has an aria.)
Anyhow, so this has cheered me up quite a bit.
I also had a fabulous voice lesson Tuesday despite having had a bad asthma attack that day. My teacher said that the high As and B flats I sang in my lesson were the best he had ever heard. And Seymour is going like gangbusters. I have to make a mental note to sing like that always, including with the choir, unless I am singing something marked pianissimo.
And we have a pianist for our May concert: the pianist who played for Carmen. I think after the concert is over I am going to work on finding another venue for that Carmen piece. It has legs, I really believe it does, and it is relatively short. I just have to find audiences other than the kind of people who go to hear music at Lincoln Center or Juilliard all the time.
Lastly, I think the weather is looking good for next Thursday, which is when my partner and I are supposed to go be evaluated for the Alzheimer's chorus. I have no idea what, if anything, will come of that, but we will see.
I went back to choir practice yesterday (over my partner's screaming objections; she thought I should stay home because of the weather) and it was less ire-provoking than I feared. Yes, we are singing yet another spiritual by Moses Hogan that is all about a high soprano showing off, with a few nice bits for men, and women with lower voices doing nothing but singing the same two or three notes over and over again, but we are also singing two pieces that I really like.
I have to make clear that my utter loathing of Hogan's choral works has nothing to do with race or musical snobbery and everything to do with being sick of women with lower voices being treated like second class citizens. Didn't the man ever listen to Marian Anderson?
Anyhow, as we are supposed to sing the piece in two weeks, little Miss will no doubt show up on the Sunday (she is not available on Wednesday nights any more, which makes her look even more like a prima donna, although I know that is not why she is doing it) and sing the solo (which overrides the entire piece).
Now that we have the schedule for Epiphany I contacted the Director about singing the Nin song in the Spanish service and I listed Martin Luther King Sunday as one of the dates I was available (the other being February 1 when our choir is not singing). Then either I can be excused from singing that piece altogether or I can just grunt my way through it (all it requires; I think the range for the second sopranos goes from middle C to the D toward the top of the staff, and there are no opportunities for lovely sustained singing for us) knowing that I will have something to look forward to, as the Spanish service is afterwards, at 12:30.
We are singing two pieces that I like. One, called "Adam Lay Ybounden" has some nice climactic "high" singing for the sopranos (meaning Gs, which are easy for me) and the other, Dominic Argento's "Gloria" will have something really special for me. I took a look at it and offered to sing the top alto part (it has four women's parts), which regularly goes up to an E and an F sharp. Also the altos do a lot of singing on their own as a group, so that is a venue in which I can shine and sing with my glorious big mezzo voice in a range that is not limited to my lower passaggio break and below (where most alto parts sit), but in fact sits mostly between the middle and the top of the staff where my voice is the strongest and I find it easiest to sing. And the sopranos often sing all together, often in a high range with words. It makes sense that for this piece the ranges are higher than for most choral pieces, because it apparently is from an opera called The Masque of Angels (which I had never heard of). If I sing in an opera chorus I would be singing the top line on the alto staff, because opera chorus parts more accurately mirror opera voice fachs. (I also see that there is a mezzo role in the opera. I am going to see if she has an aria.)
Anyhow, so this has cheered me up quite a bit.
I also had a fabulous voice lesson Tuesday despite having had a bad asthma attack that day. My teacher said that the high As and B flats I sang in my lesson were the best he had ever heard. And Seymour is going like gangbusters. I have to make a mental note to sing like that always, including with the choir, unless I am singing something marked pianissimo.
And we have a pianist for our May concert: the pianist who played for Carmen. I think after the concert is over I am going to work on finding another venue for that Carmen piece. It has legs, I really believe it does, and it is relatively short. I just have to find audiences other than the kind of people who go to hear music at Lincoln Center or Juilliard all the time.
Lastly, I think the weather is looking good for next Thursday, which is when my partner and I are supposed to go be evaluated for the Alzheimer's chorus. I have no idea what, if anything, will come of that, but we will see.
Friday, January 2, 2015
The Year So Far
I was hoping that having a list of resolutions would make me feel fresh, new, cheerful, and optimistic about 2015, but it hasn't, really.
I still stand with my life behind my first resolution: that my number one priority is to make the rest of my partner's life (however long that is; she is 80) as happy as possible. I mean every time I think of how empty and frustrating my life feels, I remember that if I didn't have her, annoyances and all, it could be oh, so much emptier.
That being said, I broke part of my first resolution less than 12 hours into the New Year: I lost my temper at her over something trivial. Then I cried. Hardly a way to start things off with a bang. I didn't cry because I lost my temper, not really. It was over an object. Did I ever mention that I hate objects the way some people hate spelling or math? They always stump me. I am fine with technology, because that is more like math or logic. It doesn't involve how objects are put together in three dimensions.
But that is not what I was crying over. I was crying over how all the hard work I put into singing seems to get me nowhere but I don't want to stop doing it. When I say "nowhere" I don't mean I don't make technical progress, I mean that I feel pushed into the background by everyone and everything. If Little Miss and her solo soprano voice (yes, I really do get the point that Peg made about how that voice fits into the sound that the choir director likes for choir pieces) are going to dominate my experience with the choir, I need to find another arena, but what?? Going to lessons and singing in a concert once a year that hardly anyone comes to isn't it, although that is important to do just so that I can have the challenge of getting up and singing in front of people. Well, maybe things are not that bleak. With the new Director of Music Ministries in charge of the schedule I'm sure I can find solo spots. There are three services every Sunday there.
I think what I really want is to find a way of expressing my displeasure (other than "vaguebooking" on Facebook) and I don't have one.
At least when I worked in an office once a year I could write a self-evaluation, not to mention that there was a Human Resources department, even if only as a symbol.
I had been hoping to do something with the Alzheimer chorus (which might be a long shot because my partner does not technically have Alzheimers) but now they have switched the first rehearsal from Thursday to Wednesday, which is the day she has started getting food from God's Love We Deliver, so she has to be home. I told her not to worry for one second about this. I am thrilled that she is getting this food. She got Meals on Wheels for years and found them inedible, which meant we had to spend just as much on groceries and she ate almost nothing except cheese danish and soy yoghurt (with the occasional BLT ordered from a coffee shop) unless I was there, and kept getting skinnier and more malnourished. The food from God's Love is really good food. She is very lucky to have gotten certified by both a doctor and a social worker to receive it. So I wrote to the woman in charge of the chorus and said that we could come for evaluation at the second rehearsal, which is on the regular day, Thursday, but that we can not come on Wednesday. So I will see what kind of response I get. I was hoping to do something with that chorus for several reasons. The main one, of course, was that it would be something the two of us could do out of the house together. But the second one was that maybe that was someplace that my talents could be appreciated.
Anyhow, if we don't go to that evaluation this coming Wednesday I am still going to stick to my plan of showing up at choir rehearsal at 7:45. There is absolutely no reason for me to be there to "warm up". I do that at home and if the choir director doesn't like how I sound when I unleash my voice in a way that feels healthy then I don't need to be there doing that. If I am singing a piece I can follow the dynamics as they are written.
And I am waiting to get the choir schedule so that I can contact the Director (who also plays for the Spanish services) about singing a Spanish art song during Epiphany. On Epiphany itself (this Sunday) there is a new Spanish choir that will be singing something.
As for how my own practicing is going, the Giovanna Seymour duet sounds really really good and I don't find it hard. And I sang through "Rejoice Greatly" in Spanish, just for fun. I sang that a few years ago on Epiphany. That also went like a house afire. What is not such good news, though, is that the dreaded ascending phrase in the Amneris/Radames duet still defeats me. I can sing it the second time, because there is less singing involved, but the first time, if I start with "Chi ti salva" I run out of steam on that ascending phrase and can't make it up to the B flat so that it sounds like a note. I need to see if I can apply some of my newfound technical progress to that. I can certainly sing really good high B flats in my warmups.
I just wish I could feel more optimistic about this coming year....
ETA: I heard back from the woman in charge of the Alzheimers chorus and she said yes, we can come Thursday the 15th. So maybe that will be the beginning or something fulfilling. And I will show up Wednesday for choir practice at 7:45 as I planned.
I still stand with my life behind my first resolution: that my number one priority is to make the rest of my partner's life (however long that is; she is 80) as happy as possible. I mean every time I think of how empty and frustrating my life feels, I remember that if I didn't have her, annoyances and all, it could be oh, so much emptier.
That being said, I broke part of my first resolution less than 12 hours into the New Year: I lost my temper at her over something trivial. Then I cried. Hardly a way to start things off with a bang. I didn't cry because I lost my temper, not really. It was over an object. Did I ever mention that I hate objects the way some people hate spelling or math? They always stump me. I am fine with technology, because that is more like math or logic. It doesn't involve how objects are put together in three dimensions.
But that is not what I was crying over. I was crying over how all the hard work I put into singing seems to get me nowhere but I don't want to stop doing it. When I say "nowhere" I don't mean I don't make technical progress, I mean that I feel pushed into the background by everyone and everything. If Little Miss and her solo soprano voice (yes, I really do get the point that Peg made about how that voice fits into the sound that the choir director likes for choir pieces) are going to dominate my experience with the choir, I need to find another arena, but what?? Going to lessons and singing in a concert once a year that hardly anyone comes to isn't it, although that is important to do just so that I can have the challenge of getting up and singing in front of people. Well, maybe things are not that bleak. With the new Director of Music Ministries in charge of the schedule I'm sure I can find solo spots. There are three services every Sunday there.
I think what I really want is to find a way of expressing my displeasure (other than "vaguebooking" on Facebook) and I don't have one.
At least when I worked in an office once a year I could write a self-evaluation, not to mention that there was a Human Resources department, even if only as a symbol.
I had been hoping to do something with the Alzheimer chorus (which might be a long shot because my partner does not technically have Alzheimers) but now they have switched the first rehearsal from Thursday to Wednesday, which is the day she has started getting food from God's Love We Deliver, so she has to be home. I told her not to worry for one second about this. I am thrilled that she is getting this food. She got Meals on Wheels for years and found them inedible, which meant we had to spend just as much on groceries and she ate almost nothing except cheese danish and soy yoghurt (with the occasional BLT ordered from a coffee shop) unless I was there, and kept getting skinnier and more malnourished. The food from God's Love is really good food. She is very lucky to have gotten certified by both a doctor and a social worker to receive it. So I wrote to the woman in charge of the chorus and said that we could come for evaluation at the second rehearsal, which is on the regular day, Thursday, but that we can not come on Wednesday. So I will see what kind of response I get. I was hoping to do something with that chorus for several reasons. The main one, of course, was that it would be something the two of us could do out of the house together. But the second one was that maybe that was someplace that my talents could be appreciated.
Anyhow, if we don't go to that evaluation this coming Wednesday I am still going to stick to my plan of showing up at choir rehearsal at 7:45. There is absolutely no reason for me to be there to "warm up". I do that at home and if the choir director doesn't like how I sound when I unleash my voice in a way that feels healthy then I don't need to be there doing that. If I am singing a piece I can follow the dynamics as they are written.
And I am waiting to get the choir schedule so that I can contact the Director (who also plays for the Spanish services) about singing a Spanish art song during Epiphany. On Epiphany itself (this Sunday) there is a new Spanish choir that will be singing something.
As for how my own practicing is going, the Giovanna Seymour duet sounds really really good and I don't find it hard. And I sang through "Rejoice Greatly" in Spanish, just for fun. I sang that a few years ago on Epiphany. That also went like a house afire. What is not such good news, though, is that the dreaded ascending phrase in the Amneris/Radames duet still defeats me. I can sing it the second time, because there is less singing involved, but the first time, if I start with "Chi ti salva" I run out of steam on that ascending phrase and can't make it up to the B flat so that it sounds like a note. I need to see if I can apply some of my newfound technical progress to that. I can certainly sing really good high B flats in my warmups.
I just wish I could feel more optimistic about this coming year....
ETA: I heard back from the woman in charge of the Alzheimers chorus and she said yes, we can come Thursday the 15th. So maybe that will be the beginning or something fulfilling. And I will show up Wednesday for choir practice at 7:45 as I planned.
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