Music for Funerals

When I lived in Michigan, I had an informal agreement with the organist at my parish, regarding music for our own funerals: One of us would make sure that the other got really good music. We worried that our relatives, prostrate with grief, might program some lousy music. We even made a little list for each other. We did a lot of funerals together, and sometimes we would whisper, "I want THAT hymn!" or, more often, "Please make sure that song is BANNED at my funeral, ok?" On Eagles' Wings did not make the cut. And now I have stated it here on my blog, too. Take note, family! I love the Faure Pie Jesu for funerals. It's short and beautiful. But, I think for my own funeral I would rather not have a soprano soloist. I'd like to be the Star Female one last time. So . . how about The Call, by Ralph Vaughan Williams? I love choral music, too.  . . the In Paradisum from the Faure or Durufle Requiem would be lovely, but I'm practical. I know there won't be a lot of time to rehearse anything. Do the chant version of the In Paradisum and I'll be happily on my way. Do Be Not Afraid and I'll haunt you. I'm tickled at the thought of having a New Orleans Second Line, but that's hard to come by up here!

The last time I sang the Pie Jesu for a funeral, it was for a baby girl who died in her mother's womb a couple of days before she was supposed to be delivered. I had just formed a small children's choir at my parish, which included some of the girl's older siblings. The parents asked if the children would sing, and they sang God Who Touchest Earth With Beauty. It was heartbreaking, and yet also hopeful. I could feel the sadness in my own voice as I sang, but I held it together. At the request of the parents we also sang Ye Watchers And Ye Holy Ones, a great hymn looking forward to happiness with the Communion of Saints.

My dad played the organ at both of his parents' funerals, and he accompanied me as I sang Albert Hay Malotte's The Lord's Prayer. I know it brought him comfort to be able to play. He also delivered the eulogies. My mother sang at her own mother's funeral. I don't think I will be able to do anything but hold my sister's hand at that time, but we'll see. When your heart is broken, sometimes music is the only way you can bear it. If I have to sing, I'll sing.

This week my True Love and I attended a funeral at the same parish where we were married. It was a service of thanksgiving for the life of Laurie, a woman I had never met. The church was packed. The choir sang Herbert Howells' Pray For the Peace Of Jerusalem. At Communion the choir sang several short motets, including one of my favorites by Theodore DuBois, Adoramus Te Christe. (It's on my list. It's quick to learn, too.) We used to sing it at the Altar of Repose on Holy Thursday.

The final hymn was For All The Saints, and we sang all eight verses. I noticed that as I sang each verse, my voice was stronger and stronger, and I was happy to help sing this beloved woman to Heaven. The organist played a dazzling fanfare, and we began the final verse. The choir soared past all of us, with the descant reaching higher and higher. The music in the hymnal got blurry as tears came to my eyes, and I choked up so much I could no longer sing, just listen and be thankful.

The entire congregation stood as the grieving mother and children processed to the back of the church with the casket, while the organist played a triumphant postlude. A few people left the pews, but most just stood and watched. The choir was invited to recess but they remained standing in the loft, motionless. The organist kept his eyes on the music and completed the postlude, and everyone remained standing, weeping silently for the gift of the beautiful woman and the gift of the beautiful music.

Laurie was the organist's daughter. He played her to Heaven.

Laura Kent Hynes 1962-2012

 

 

Blogging by the seat of my pants

I thought my dad's advice to "never tug on Superman's cape, never spit in the wind" was brilliant and funny, and totally original. It was years before I realized he cribbed from the song, "You Don't Mess Around With Jim." My dad always added on a couple more: "Never build a house for a friend" (he's a house builder) and "there is no harm in making a profit." I don't know if Mr. Croce felt the same way.

My True Love rolls out some well-known phrases in his musical baritone, over and over again. To friends who ask how he's doing: "So far, it's a smooth crossing," or "beats being poked with the end of a sharp stick." When he wants more cooperation from the kids: "That won't butter the biscuit."

My mother, probably helping her daughters with homework one night, said "it's a law of physics" one too many times. So now my sister and I insist, to my mother's bemused exasperation, that everything can be explained as "a law of physics." This includes Civil War history, cat behavior, manic depression, and home gardening. To my knowledge this phrase has not been trademarked by Stephen Hawking or anyone else. Mom, it's all yours, congratulations!

My favorite voice guru, Jeannette LoVetri, explains vocal technique succinctly: "A larynx is a larynx is a larynx." I'd like that on a t-shirt.

I don't know what phrases or quotes are associated with me. Probably "use your abs!" or "this room won't clean itself!"

Some of my other favorite sayings:

Can't never could do nothing. (Who said this? I know my piano teacher Mrs. Norris did, she was from Arkansas. It sounds southern.)

You are flying by the seat of your pants. (also from Mrs. Norris. I was not a great student!)

You are not going to leave this house dressed like a ragamuffin. (my mother, and now me)

Practice what you preach.

There's no place like home. (thank you, Judy Garland. At the end of a long road trip, my dad would pull slowly into our long driveway, then slow to a stop and gaze lovingly at our house, only steps away. He would repeat that phrase over and over again as the rest of the tired family yelled at him to hurry up and get us into the garage. Originally from the song, "Home Sweet Home")

Two wrongs do not make a right.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

 

 

 

 

A decent interval (song)

Intervals. We know 'em when we hear 'em, right? Can you sing one when you're asked? Can you read it in music? Intervals (which lead to scales and key signatures) are some of the toughest concepts for young musicians to learn, especially singers. But, all musicians must know their intervals -- the measured distances between individual notes. Knowing intervals helps you read music faster and more accurately. Pianists can press a couple of keys, brass players can press a valve or two, and the result will usually be the same each time. Singers learn intervals by feeling the resonance in their heads and throats, while listening to the sound that come out of their mouths -- and that can mean endless variety of pitch. A tuner can help singers identify intervals before they begin to associate them with a "feeling" in their own bodies.

Music teachers always use common melodies to teach intervals; for instance, the perfect fourth interval sounds just like the beginning of "Here Comes The Bride," and the opening notes of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" comprise an octave. Other intervals are harder to quickly identify in music because  . . . they sound weird, they aren't used in music that people can recall instantly, or they're hard to sing. To the rescue, a few YouTube videos that I found helpful:

1.  "The Interval Song," a Latin-beat ditty by a British composer named Django Bates. May also make a good drinking game for college theory students. Sing it a few times and you will know it forever.

2. "Interval Song" by Anonymous. I have never heard this one before but the song and the performer are both really cute. I like any song that attempts to rhyme "octave" and "provocative."

3. "Intervals In Inversion Song," by David Newman. I'd like to hand this guy a rose for coming up with this hilarious song. I love the wonderfully sappy piano accompaniment.

4. For kinesthetic and visual learners, check out Leonard Bernstein's "Young People's Concerts," which devotes an entire hour to intervals called  "Musical Atoms." Might be interval overkill for some, but if you're at all interested, it's an hour well spent.

Do intervals really matter? Ask him.

The business of "The House Of Eliott"

Entertaining the idea of an MBA? Watch The House Of Eliott and you'll learn everything you need to know about business.

The series, which aired on the BBC in the 1990s (and is now available on YouTube), follows a pair of sisters who launch a fashion house in 1920s London. The plot twists are pure soap opera, mixed with leftover costumes from Brideshead Revisited. But the foundational story is the process of growing a business from scratch.

The sisters -- plucky, Kate Hepburn-esque Beatrice and luminous young Evangeline -- discover that their selfish father's bad business decisions have rendered them destitute, while their sheltered upbringing has left them unable to find work. Talented at sewing and little else, the sisters began to turn their deceased father's expensive old clothes into fashions for themselves. The naturally organized Beatrice finds work as a photographer's assistant, a few society ladies see their creations . . . and the House of Eliott is born.

As the opportunities grow, so do the challenges. They hire additional help to keep up with demand. They debate closing the doors to become designers at a Paris fashion house (they decline, and then Evangeline has an affair with the boss). Beatrice and the photographer fall madly in love.

Successful but cash-poor, The House of Eliott is under constant stress. Beatrice and Evangeline negotiate loans with condescending bankers who steal from them. Their workers fight. Their first ready-to-wear line is undermined by cheap copies. The photographer, who becomes a filmmaker, is elected to Parliament. The Great Depression begins to affect sales. Even though both sisters marry and Beatrice becomes a mother, the House of Elliott remains their most precious creation.

Like Beatrice, I'm a mom in a creative profession, married to a dashing photographer! We're working and learning about growing a business together -- his photography and printing, and my voice studio. We've already faced some of the same challenges the sisters faced, and we've also enjoyed some of the same happiness when things actually go right. (I also have a beautiful younger sister, but she's an RN and wears scrubs.) The House of Eliott is a great way to unwind after a long day at the home office. Yes, there are other shows about family businesses, but they don't have such fabulous gowns.

Intrigued? Here's another British-accented actress dispensing business advice. ;)

Goodbye 2011, hello 2012

A few of my favorite memories of 2011: Taking a vacation to Provincetown MA, and meeting up with my extended family at the Grand Canyon in honor of my Aunt Lee's 80th birthday. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Teaching students, and learning more about the art and science of singing. You all enrich my life.

Joining The Chorus of Westerly. I'm honored to be part of this community of high-quality choral music makers! Thank you, George Kent and Chorus, for just being you. (Mr. Kent is retiring in 2012, a mere 53 years after he founded the chorus. Godspeed!)

Having my little girl ask me to braid her hair.

Writing, producing and directing Quonnie: The Musical! And releasing it on DVD and in songbook form!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having my son play DJ in the car with his iPod. Even when I don't like it, I like it.

I'm so blessed to love and be loved by these three people -- one tall, one medium, one short.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What's coming up in 2012:

In May, I'm teaching a week of master classes at my old stomping grounds, Dublin Coffman High School in Dublin OH.

I'm going to cheer for my husband in his second NYC marathon. I'll run some kind of race, but probably not a marathon.

I expect to continue to practice important life skills I learned from Kenny Rogers.

Quonnie: The Musical gets an encore production in August. I'm going to tweak several scenes.

I really hope this is the year I sell my house in Michigan.

I'll be singing more, teaching more, creating more. . . living and loving more! I wish the same for you. Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy 2012. XO EC

 

 

Ought-To-Tune

This gentleman is flat. Can you tell? Now that I've removed my fingernails from the ceiling, let's talk about flatness. We all do it sometimes. Singing under the correct pitch can be caused by singing notes that are out of one's natural range, insufficient breath support, or mismatched vowels. Try this: Sing or speak a bright "ee" sound, very nasally, in the front of your mouth. Now, sing or speak the same "ee" in the back of your throat. The pitch goes down, doesn't it? Try it in reverse: Think of singing "Somewhere, over the rainbow." Sing the "some" in the very back of your throat, then try to vault up to "where." It's eight notes away, but unless you really know where you're heading, you probably feel very insecure finding that high note. People who sing flat fail to quickly adjust to changes in vowels and changes in pitches, or they fail to maintain adequate air flow while they sing. They don't hear it or feel it, so they don't fix it.

Can you fix flatness? Yes! First, hear it: Record yourself singing and then listen to the results. Most people dislike hearing the sound of their own voice, but try to be detached about it, and just listen for pitch accuracy (or ask a friend to listen, and be honest with you). Do you have trouble matching pitch on the highest notes, on the descending lines, or ascending lines? Then, think about what's going on when you're flat. Which words or syllables tend to make you sound flat? What's happening in your mouth and throat when flatness occurs? Do you feel sensations in your throat such as squeezing, stretching, tightening, grimacing? What are your abdominal muscles doing (or not doing) when flatness happens?

Now that you are aware of your particular recipe for flatness, bring in the technology. I love my Sabine MetroTune 9000 tuner (about $29.95 on Amazon.com) for its awesome, Harry Potter-esque name and model number but also for its ability to show singers exactly which pitch they are singing. Even though I have perfect pitch, I'm not infallible -- I need help hearing sharp and flat pitches, too. When the tuner tells me I'm singing a flat note or series of notes, I adjust my mouth shape and reinforce my breath support, and sometimes I'll draw an "up" arrow over the pitch in my music to remember to make those modifications every time I sing. Like many people I have a tendency to go flat on descending lines (think of the beginning of "Joy To The World"), so I slightly adjust each pitch as I head down -- I might open my mouth or slightly brighten the vowel. It's amazing how just a slight change can make all the difference.

There is computer software to test and train the flatness out of your voice as well: The Pitch Perfector can do this in the privacy of your own home, for only $67. If you like sitting in front of a desktop computer, this is probably a good option.

For flat-fighting on the go, use a smartphone app. I just purchased ClearTune for $3.95 and don't know how I managed without it. It's a little slower than the Sabine, but it gets the job done. Last week I used it to reinforce intervals with a children's theory class. Several kids were absolutely certain they were singing a fourth interval (think "Here Comes The Bride") when in fact they were singing sharp thirds and very flat fourths. I held up the tuner, and they realized how far off they were. Immediately they increased their breath support and sang a brighter tone to achieve the correct pitch. The tuner will save us hours of practice time, because we'll know instantly if we're singing on pitch.

When you're a world famous singer, you can use Auto-Tune to cover all your pitchy sins. But it's cheaper and better to fight flatness with healthy vocal technique -- just tell 'em you're using "Ought-To-Tune."

I wasn't aware of Jay-Z's hilarious "D.O.A. (Death Of Auto-Tune)" until recently, but I think he's right -- it's overused. (Maybe by his wife, too?) So, get a tuner and practice basic vocal technique, and you'll never sing flat again. Unless you want to end up on YouTube. . . . I like it when she takes out her gum . . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Saints and All Souls

Time for the saints to march in! What wonderful music we have for All Saints' Day and All Souls'. Who doesn't love For All The Saints, Ye Watchers And Ye Holy Ones, the wonderful Litany? When I was a music teacher at St. Michael School in Annandale VA, dear Sister Renee wrote a saints' play for the Second Graders, and I used to read an illustrated, book version of "I Sing A Song Of The Saints Of God" to the kids as they learned the song to perform along with her play. The lyrics, by the wonderfully named Lesbia Scott, are colorful and engaging: "I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true/who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew/And one was a doctor, and one was a Queen and one was a shepherdess on the green/they were all of them saints of God, and I mean God helping, to be one too." Verse two lists that "one was a soldier and one was a priest/and one was slain by a fierce wild beast." Awesome!!

Gabriel Faure's Requiem is sometimes heard on (or around) All Souls' Day, right after All Saints'. It's a beautiful way to remember and honor our loved ones. Trinity Episcopal Church's choir in Newport, directed by my friend Brent Erstad, performed the work last weekend. Faure actually joked that he composed the work "for fun" but it was inspired by the loss of some of his family. It's short and quite  .  . . sweet, especially the Sanctus and the In Paradisum. I managed to wrangle a volunteer choir together to sing the Offertoire once  at St. Anthony - it was worth it! Faure is always worth it.

Most recently I sang the Faure Requiem on September 11 with a small volunteer singing group in Stonington, CT, headed by Dara Blackstone and accompanied by my friend Kim Lewis. Here's my performance of the "Pie Jesu".

Rest in peace, all the faithful departed. May perpetual light shine upon them. PH, EJ, LG.

Every word, a pearl

Every voice teacher uses imagery and metaphor to teach basic vocal concepts. We have to do this because many small, functional parts of the voice are hidden from sight and touch, and we have to help our students feel their way around. All the little unseen parts work together to make a voice, so teachers tend to talk in colorful terms about the coordinated actions of these muscle groups. It's like telling someone to "run like you are on top of hot coals" instead of telling her to quickly move your right foot and knee forward at an angle, put it down, and then move your left foot and knee. To save time and earn a reputation for fanciful and entertaining lessons, a teacher will not order a sophomore soprano to rotate her posterior cricoarytenoid cartilages to close her vocal folds and contract her rectus abdominus muscles to produce a clear strong tone. Instead she will be urged to imagine your thumb is being nailed by a hammer and say, "Ow!"

Each teacher likes her own set of images, and they inspire mystery and awe in students. "She's awesome -- she told me to sing into my hips!" "So I'm like, 'yawning' into the sound now." Imagery can help an unskilled teacher cover her tracks, but it's no substitute for solid pedagogy.

Sometimes the imagery gets in the way. I remember my dear college teacher's exhortation to relax my tense muscles in the back of my mouth -- or, as she put it,  "keep your throat so open that I could take this box of Kleenex and send it down your throat, and it would never touch." Exactly how was I supposed to stretch my throat to the width of an air conditioning shaft? I was far more interested in imagining the sound and feel of a tissue box banging around my metallic throat than actually trying to do it -- whatever "it" was.

The wonderful teacher Jeannette LoVetri insists that teachers should use clear scientific explanations in vocal pedagogy. "Telling you to move your larynx is as bad, albeit in a different manner, as telling you to vibrate your forehead or send the sound across the room. Useless information that just makes it harder, not easier, to sing," she writes on her blog. She's right. Imagery is a way to call attention to what's happening or what's requested, but it should always be paired with an appropriate scientific explanation.

So, if you're a voice student and you've been wondering what your teacher is talking about, here is a friendly little translation guide: "Inhale the rose" means close your mouth, breathe through your nostrils, and release your tongue. "Throw up into the sound" means lower your tongue and sing a vowel from the back of your throat. "Squeeze your Kegels" means activate your lower abdominal muscles. "Raise your eyebrows to sing that high note" means don't be flat. "Sing into the mask" = sing with a little nasality. "Sip the air through a straw" -- don't gulp when you inhale. "Push out your guts" = not a clue. "Imagine you are a unicorn and the sound is coming out of your horn" = what?! "Imagine you are a marionette and the sound is like a string being pulled at the top of your head" = okay, take your meds.

Of course, all of my images work brilliantly. I routinely tell my students to "make whale sounds", which means to slide smoothly from one vowel to another in a random pattern to help the throat and tongue free of tension. I told a group of young choir students to "imagine they were flying squirrels" by jumping into the air with arms and legs outstretched, landing in a kind of karate-ready position, all because I wanted them to activate their abdominal muscles and not just stand there listlessly. I remind singers that "breath is like manna -- take only what you need for the phrase", because I don't want them to breathe too early and hold the breath, or too late and not have enough. I can also tell who's read their Old Testament when I use this imagery. ;) I do try to make sure I give an age-appropriate scientific explanation right along with the imagery.

Yesterday, I came up with a doozy! "Your voice sounds like peanut butter smooshed onto bread, and I want it to sound like jellied cranberry sauce." Translation: You are making a nice legato line here, but your vocal tract is small and flattened out because your tongue is up, and consequently your sound is muffled and soft. Keep your palate raised so your tract assumes a rounded, cylindrical shape -- which will help you resonate better and then we will hear a nicer sound.

I was hungry, so I went for the food imagery. Peanut butter is smooth but flat. The only cylindrical food I could think of was jellied cranberry sauce. Even though he didn't like cranberry sauce, the student understood.

Same time next week? Don't forget to nail your thumb with a hammer!

 

 

 

 

Ruminations on Adele's "Deep" lyrics, disabled larynx

There is a large sorority of popular singers who sound like they're suffering from bad allergies: Those sexy gals with low, raspy voices who yawn into the microphone and sound pinched when they sing a rare high note.

 

I'm talking about Norah Jones, Adele, Dido, Corinne Bailey Rae, Colbie Caillat, Sade, and the dear departed Amy Winehouse. It's thrilling to hear a singer performing the vocal equivalent of walking a tightrope -- will she hit that note or will she fall off? However, I spend a lot of my professional time trying to keep young singers from dwelling too long in this style. It's not healthy.

Adele, the 21-year old British chanteuse who sounds like Dusty Springfield's illegitimate daughter, recently canceled her U.S. tour due to a vocal hemhorrhage. In fact, this was her second major vocal crisis in a year. Adele's grainy, uneven vocal tone, exacerbated by smoking and the demands of touring, is not sustainable. I gather they've told her to go to vocal rehab and thankfully she has not said "no, no, no."

I have to admit I'm drawn to song of hers. Rolling In the Deep is an almost-great song and fun to hear. However, the  lyrics, co-written by Adele and Paul Ellworth, don't match the strong melody and performance. Every time I hear this song I think, "Almost!" I like the chorus the best --  a great match of words and music: You had my heart inside your hands/and you played it to the beat. Until I read the lyrics I thought she was singing You had my heart and soul in your hands, and I like that image and soul rhymes slightly better with the beginning of the chorus, We could have had it all -- even if technically having two items in a jerk's hands (one's heart and soul) would therefore demand changing played it to played them to the beat. I know . . . nitpicking.

Verse One: Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark -- did they forget the "of" as in "out of the dark," or was that intentional? Or does she mean she's bringing out the darkness of her mood? I can't figure it out. And why did she repeat these opening lyrics at the end of the first verse? She didn't do it on any other verses. Finally I can see you crystal clear/Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your sh-t bare. Sell out? What the heck happened, Adele? I'm confused! And, why use a scatological word in the first verse? To a 21 year old it might not be a swear word, but really, girl, once you go blue here's nowhere left to go, just ask Cee-Lo Green. And can we rhyme clear with something else? How about extending the whole fire metaphor: Smoke and cinders fill my eyes with tears /Burn up the past but it won't help me forget the years. I know, it's not great -- but neither is yours.

Bridge to the Chorus: The scars of your love remind me of us  . . . they leave me breathless. Wow, those must be some scars if they interfere with your ability to breathe. Diagnosis: Love Pneumonia.

Musically, I am puzzled by Adele's "rolling in the deep" on the highest notes in her head voice range. She sings "deep" on the C above middle C. It's an odd juxtaposition of that good melody and that good lyric. Maybe only picky voice teachers find it odd.

Verse two: Baby, I have no story to be told/but I've heard the one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn. I understand she's trying to connect the fire images from verse one and also keep the tone angry, but it's a weak link. Told and burn do not rhyme. Eminem manages to rhyme when he's ticked off, why not you, Adele?

What about Baby, I have no story to be told, but I've read the book on you and now your head will roll. What's wrong with that? Makes me think of Henry VIII! Or, I heard it all from her, it's seared into my soul. Why not confirm that there was another woman? That would be justifiable, rhyming anger.

Verse three: Throw your soul through every open door. Who's doing the throwing, Adele or the jerk? Each scenario is plausible. But, the whole stanza is a jarring mix of images: Soul-throwing, then counting blessings, then sorrows becoming golden, then reaping what you sow (my favorite of the four). All of the lines end in half-rhymes or oblique rhymes.

For those seeking an advanced degree in Adele Lyrical Studies: Please figure out whether these rhyme schemes were intentional. As for me, I'll continue to enjoy deconstructing and rewriting Rolling In The Deep every time I hear it. Adele, during your vocal rest I know you'll be writing songs. Just be sure to have a thesaurus and a rhyming dictionary next to your Throat Coat tea. Or, call me up! ;)

Can't wait to hear what you do next.

 

 

 

 

Singer needs massage.

Busy, busy, busy!

This fall I am teaching voice lessons in four locations around Rhode Island: Salve Regina University in Newport, Jacqueline M. Walsh School for Performing Arts in Pawtucket, Rhode Island Philharmonic Music School in East Providence, and St. Luke Episcopal Church in East Greenwich. I also teach a few students voice and piano at my home in Charlestown. I am teaching six days a week at the moment. Looks like Sunday will be my Sabbath rest, at least for the next month or two, and that's good!

I'm also subbing as a cantor and organist when asked, and I'm in the middle of singing my first High Holy Days with Temple Beth-El in Providence. Some of the members of the eight-voice choir have been participating for decades, and I'm honored to be with them. It requires every bit of focus I have to sight-sing 30 to 40 choral works in phonetic Hebrew  (sometimes transposed!) for three hours at a stretch -- and that's just rehearsal! I have learned that I need to rest and eat more before the services; when I'm hungry and tired, I miss entrances. I am in awe of Cantor Judy Seplowin, who will be singing her heart out for ten hours on Yom Kippur while observing the fast. The choir is 95% Gentile, so we're sneaking out for lunch! Apparently it's tradition.

I spotted some of my fellow choir members at a stunning performance of the Bach B Minor Mass last Friday in Providence . . . the Ecclesia Consort draws (and deserves) that kind of support. I brought along a score and happily read along, even though they had tuned down about half a step (which tends to throw off a gal with perfect pitch).

Does all this singing and teaching leave me tired? Absolutely. Would I appreciate a three hour long massage if I could ever find three hours in a row? Sure. Do I want to stop any of it? No way! It's too much fun!

I was talking with my True Love about this. I was telling him about the retired lady student who had lived and worked near the same places I lived and worked -- and who sang Puccini to relax; the road-tripping student whose grandkids are in my daughter's class -- who got rid of some vocal tension; the student whose part time jobs matched my sister's part time jobs at the same age -- and was learning how to make a rounded "oo"; the smart, shy high schooler who was becoming aware of her talent as well as her technique -- and getting compliments from her choir teacher for the very first time. And that was just Monday!

Music enriches my life -- by deepening my prayers in a house of worship (even if I don't completely understand them); by bringing satisfaction and joy as I hear my fellow musicians at the top of their game; and by giving me a way to meet students, who often become great friends. I'm grateful for those who taught me music, and grateful for those who I teach now.

(But yeah, I really would like the three-hour massage. On a Sunday.)

 

 

What I remember

I missed it all. I got my son and his friend to school but I had turned the radio off. I hid out in my classroom prepping madly before the five year olds came in for music class. When the kindergarten teacher collected her students, she quietly told me all the awful things that had happened. We knew that we were probably not in imminent danger -- classes went on, the electricity was working, there was no airport near us. But the world had changed. Every church in town had a prayer service that night. At Mass, I wanted to sing The Battle Hymn Of The Republic, but we got On Eagle's Wings instead, which made me angry. I wanted St. Michael The Archangel and was dissatisfied with the Paraclete.

The next morning the sky was empty and quiet. My 3 year old son told his preschool teacher, "The tower got an owie." A friend emailed that her cousin was missing from Cantor Fitzgerald, would everyone please pray for him. Some veterans from the Greatest Generation were visiting the school that morning, after speaking at the college up the hill. We found out that one of the veterans had lost his son and brand new daughter-in-law on the flight that crashed into the Pentagon. The young couple was flying off to their honeymoon. The college was arranging to drive the man home; we didn't see him. The choir performed "America The Beautiful" for the veterans. We had always planned to sing all four verses. It seemed slightly excessive the day before and absolutely necessary the day after. They sang it beautifully and reverently. I wanted it to go well, and it did.

We watched the Tribute To Heroes telethon a week later and I liked Billy Joel and Tom Petty the best. We watched The Who bring catharsis to all the surviving first responders at the The Concert For New York City. God Bless The U.S.A., God Bless America, and Imagine played in endless rotation. Samuel Barber's Adagio For Strings was . . . even sadder.

On September 11 I'll be singing, too, and I'll remember.

 

 

 

 

 

"Quon"-gratulations

We just finished the inaugural performances of Quonnie: The Musical. What a great weekend!

"Quon"-grats to all who sang, acted, made costumes, painted sets, sold tickets, helped corral kids, and generally made this show such a pleasure to create. We had wonderfully enthusiastic audiences, we were able to donate some of the proceeds to the Quonochontaug Historical Society, and the kids had a great time!

It went so well, in fact, that we will repeat the show in 2012. I've done this before; I did an encore presentation of The Odyssey because it was well-received, and I wanted to see if the kids remembered anything! (They did).

For the first time ever, I'm selling my lyrics in a songbook format -- "Quonnie: The Songbook." I had never even given it thought, but a nice mom suggested I do it, and now I'm kind of excited to work on this project! If you want to order a songbook (or a DVD of the show), just email me. I have extra songs that didn't make it into the show; I'll throw those in, too.

I'm one of those people who likes to know what she'll be doing 12 months from now (a family trait). In fact, I have already purchased my day planner for 2012 and am filling it in, so this past weekend has been delightful for Planner Eden.

One of the songs in the musical was called "Rocks Of The Quonnie," to the tune of "Rock A Bye Baby."

It was all about the huge rocks that grace our beach. They have cute names like Profile Rock and Turtle Rock, and interesting histories. We had seven sweet young ladies sing the "rock parts" in the show, and my son made a "rock map" for the program to show where they were. Great idea, but . . . this past weekend I've toured friends and family to those rocks -- everyone wanted to see where they were! -- unfortunately, three of them are on property that used to be public, but is now private. We got some very suspicious looks from people. I don't know how much longer I can go up those driveways and pretend to be a geographically challenged tourist.

The only solution is. . .write another song.

 

 

 

 

RSCM: Really Spectacular Churchy Musicmaking

I just returned from a week of wonderful music-making at the Royal School of Church Music-America's Choir Camp at Newport. I was the vocal coach, which meant I spent hours standing up, walking around, teaching voice classes and modeling good choral technique for 60 trebles and 14 adults. I wish there had been time to work with each singer individually! I did try to spread the gospel of vocal technique as revealed to me by Jeannette LoVetri. ;) You can see some photos of the camp here. We sang spirituals, motets, hymns with larynx-rending descants (written by the 11 year olds in "Descant Class"!), and we chanted a lot of Psalms. Our wonderful organist improvised preludes on the spot. We congregated in choir lofts and choir stalls. We used no microphones. We sang the Mozart "Little Organ Mass" in Latin. The rehearsals were held in the opulent rooms of Ochre Court, the mansion that was donated to the Sisters of Charity in the 1940s and became the first building of the Salve Regina campus. Singing classical music in Ochre Court in summer happily reminded me of my summer singing with AIMS in Graz, Austria!

While we were hosted by a Catholic university, the Morning Prayer and Compline were Anglican, the venues for our Evensong and liturgy were Episcopal, and the choirs at Newport all came from Episcopal and Congregational churches. It was very beautiful and reverent, but I was a little sad when I realized  it will be a long time before I see 74 Catholic singers from ten different choirs spend a week of their lives in Rhode Island, learning how to sing better at Mass. RSCM America does have some Catholic parishes using its curriculum, and I hope more find out about it. I wish I had known more about it when I was a choir director/cantor at St. Anthony in Hillsdale, Michigan.

My True Love was off picking up our kids from camp, so some of my fellow church musicians -- Jason, Ben, Astrid, Zach, Ernest, Mark, Waylon -- took me out to dinner at The Black Pearl for my birthday. They helped me remember there are good things about getting little bit older -- namely, you make more and more good friends! The best part was when I revealed my true age and one dinner companion looked at me and said, "Bitch."

And now, on to Quonnie: The Musical, which is in rehearsals right now. The entire 15-member cast arrives tonight for rehearsal. The kids have memorized their lines so tonight instead of a runthrough of just the songs, I'm going to try to run the whole show. Today I'm also making rocks out of refrigerator boxes. I love my life!

 

 

 

A Lazy Afternoon

Forget Afternoon Delight. Keep your Under the Boardwalk. Ditch that Summer in The City.  Lazy Afternoon is my favorite summer song.

It's from the musical The Golden Apple by Jerome Moross and John LaTouche -- the show updated the Helen of Troy legend to 1950s Washington State. It's okay that you've probably never heard of it; some colleges perform it, but it has never had a major revival -- it doesn't deserve one, except for this song! I love how the chords progress back and forth from minor to major, and I also love the Faulkner-esque (Capote-esque?) lyrics ("and I know a place that's quiet/ with daisies runnin' riot/ with no one passin' by it to see"). It sounds like it could be Caddy's nine o'clock number from the musical version of The Sound And The Fury.

Kay Ballard, portraying Helen, sang Lazy Afternoon on the original cast soundtrack. I think she is a little too lazy with the pitches, swooping and moaning. I do like the vibraphone, for it dates the rendition appropriately.

The first version I ever heard was by Barbra Streisand back in the 1980s, when she came out of retirement the first time and did a TV special. Being Barbra, she hits every note dead on, and Marvin Hamlisch has some nice little electronic keyboard moments drip-dropping against a reedy double bass. But do I believe Streisand could relax enough to really live this song? Nah.

There are countless other versions, all with good moments. Tony Bennett, Eartha Kitt, June Christy, et al. But my all-time favorite version is by Joan Morris, a mezzo-soprano voice professor at the University of Michigan. She has spent decades performing the Great American Songbook in concert with her husband, the Pultizer Prize-winning composer William Bolcom. About fifteen years ago, I stumbled upon Let's Do It, a CD they recorded of a live concert from 1987. Every track is a gem, from Wait 'Til The Sun Shines Nellie to Let's Put Out The Lights (And Go To Bed) to the hilarious version of the Cole Porter title track. But the standout, for me, is this song. Just listen to Morris sing Lazy Afternoon. She is all quiet, intoxicating invitation, while Bolcom provides spare but completely effective piano. I have assigned this song to a few of my private students over the years, just so I can play the Bolcom accompaniment again by ear. When Morris sings, I can see Helen on the porch with her tea and "cake that was never richer," and Paris prostrate before her. Perfection! Who needs A/C?

The garden's growing!

Lots of flowers in the garden . . .lots of projects in the works!

1. Auditions for Quonnie: The Musical are Monday, July 11 at 6pm here in Charlestown RI. Quonnie kids ages 5 and up are invited to audition. I've written singing and non-singing parts, and I'm editing the first full draft now! The musical is all about Quonochontaug, the area of Rhode Island I call home. In the mid 1670s, Quonnie was illegally sold to British settler Thomas Stanton, by a "fake" Native American. That history is covered in our show, as is Thomas Edison's disastrous flirtation with Quonnie as a potential factory site, and the catastrophic direct hit of the 1938 hurricane. As I've researched this project, I've discovered that everyone loves Quonnie because it never seems to "change" - a funny thing to hear about a place that's 400+ years old! But, the Quonnie's natural beauty is constant, as is the friendliness of its people. Shows will be August 19 and 21 at the Quonnie Grange.

2. I'm serving as a voice coach/teacher at the Royal School of Church Music camp, to be held at Salve Regina University in Newport August 1-7. I'm excited to work with these talented young singers! There are still openings for youth and adult singers -- consider making this your musical family vacation. Sacred music in a beautiful seaside location. . . be like the Von Trapps, with salt water!

3. And here . . . garden photos. I'm not one of those people who thinks stone fences are pretty all on their own. So, I have been building up berms of dirt against the 140-foot fence, and loading in plants from my former garden, my mother's garden, and my mother-in-law's garden. The church secretary gave me some hosta, too. I think it looks good so far . . . need more Asiatic lilies and boxwoods!

Eden's Excellent Ecumenical Adventure

To me, bad sacred music is like poison ivy. It irritates! It distracts! And once you have it, it's hard to ignore. But, in the past few weeks I've had some musical experiences that have been, for me, the aural equivalent of calamine lotion. Ahhhhh! Relief! First, I stumbled upon St. Paul's Catholic Church in Cambridge MA. I was in the Boston area for the weekend, and it was 5pm on a Saturday, and I saw people scurrying into Mass, so I did too. What a wonderful treat! The organ melodies swelled and bounced off of the marble surfaces of the altar and walls. Then, in the pew in front of me I spied Hymns, Psalms, and Spiritual Canticles -- a revered but out-of-print hymnal compiled by the late great Dr. Theodore Marier. Marier helped develop the Ward Method of musical instruction -- the method I learned as a young teacher in Virginia, and still use today. Marier was a devoted supporter of beautiful traditional sacred music and polyphony, and he founded the famous Boston Boy Choir. I met him once at a chant worshop in Washington DC -- very nice, humble man. I opened up the hymnal and read a little of the preface. . . so here was Marier's hymnal. . . being used in his old church. At that moment I realized that this parish was Marier's "lab" -- here was where he composed all of his great melodies, and where he taught beautiful sacred music to generations of young singers! (Eden looks up to Heaven: Dr. Marier, they're doing a great job! I only hope that the upcoming new translation of the Mass doesn't result in the loss of all the beautiful melodies you created.) My friend Douglas, the music director at my former parish in Michigan, is also composing new liturgical music. I thought of him as I participated in Mass at St. Paul's. Dr. Marier had 52 years to work on his compositions; Douglas is on year 5. Alles Gute! ;)

For the second time in my life I attended a synagogue service. Last time, it was the 1980s and I was visiting a local synagogue with members of my Methodist church for a "discovering many religions" youth trip. (All I remember is that the rabbi's parking space had a sign that said "Thou Shalt Not Park Here" and the word shit appeared in the phonetic translations of the Hebrew, which we all found scandalous and amusing. ) This time, I was part of a small chorus that sang for Shabbat Eve service at the lovely Reform Temple Beth-El in Providence. What a happy experience! Cantor Judy Slepowin has an amazing voice and she led both her choir and her congregation with great skill and talent. Three out of four choir members were Gentile voice teachers from Rhode Island, which made it even more fun. The other singers were familiar with the music and the service, but I was sight reading everything. They helped me figure out what to sing, when. I liked being on my toes! There was new music to sing about every minute or so and it seemed to be drawn from many different styles and eras. I glanced at the copyright dates of some of the songs and some were composed very recently, others were obviously very traditional. Some of it was Israeli folk melody and sounded like it could have been sung by Miriam herself. Some was unaccompanied Hebrew chant, and a couple of songs sounded rather modern, almost like they were straight out of a hotel lounge in Tel Aviv. I found it all fascinating, liturgically and musically. Throughout the whole hour, the vibe was undeniably joyful, and everyone participated in the singing and prayers. (Later someone told me that this was an especially good night, that sometimes it's quieter and not as well-attended. I'm glad I was there on such a good night.)

The service was held in a small side chapel, and it was filled. Two new adult members were welcomed into the congregation, and a young boy was recognized because the next day was his Bar Mitzvah. Everyone in the congregation sang at least the first part of each song that Cantor Judy started, and several times they knew the melodies well enough to sing all the way to the end. After the service, everyone stayed to pray and sing as the challah was broken for the reception -- which also included a healthy dose of coffee, chocolate desserts . . .and fruit for the dietetically righteous. I also got a good look at the Rabbi. She's about nine months pregnant, she had stood up for an hour! ;) A sheynem dank and thank you for having me!

Two days later I was in the choir loft of St. Luke's Episcopal Church in East Greenwich RI. I have been teaching voice at St. Luke's for a couple of months now, and it's been a very happy experience to help the choristers develop their voices. A few weeks ago, a couple of my private students brought in a piece they were going to be singing on a future Sunday. It was not just any old choir piece -- it was "How Lovely Is Thy Dwelling Place" from the Brahms Requiem. I've never heard it performed in a church, and the last time I sang it was freshman year of college. It's a lush, gorgeous, Romantic choral piece. And this choir was going to sing it for Offertory! So, after helping my singers learn their parts, I invited myself to "help out" in the choir loft on Brahms Sunday. I almost cried at the beauty as I sang those arching lines once again. Priscilla Rigg, the music director, had been worried about having enough singers to pull off the Brahms -- lots of singers away for the weekend due to graduations, etc. -- but it worked. The children of the church's St. Cecilia youth choir were robed up and present, too. Priscilla had them sit and listen to the adults as they sang. "You're going to hear something very special today," she told them. She was right.

All in all, May has been an Excellent Ecumenical Adventure! Onward!

 

 

Questions for the high school musical performer

Dear High School Musical Theater Performer, Do you want me to tell you what I really thought of your performance, or do you just want to hear "Great job"? I didn't think so. You're a mature high schooler. So, you really want to know? Okay. I only say this because I care about you.

I know you gave it a shot. I know that you put time and effort into rehearsals and you had a lot of fun. But, did you have any idea who your character was? The walk, the talk, the attitude, the genealogy? Did you read the book on which your show was based? The Cliffs Notes? Did you at least consult Wikipedia? I didn't think so.

Well, you should have done that work. And then you should have written a description of your character in your own words (better yet, in your character's own words), and handed it in to your director (who should have required it), and discussed it with him/her and your fellow cast members. Did you know that that would have made your performance instantly better? Did you know anything about the time frame or history in which your show's events took place? I didn't think so, for I saw your show's chorus members slapping high fives and gang signs onstage while dressed in petticoats and tall hats. It looked wierd. (Then again, it didn't help that your show was terribly written. That show was astonishing in its insipidness. But I don't hold that against you.)

Did you know that if you have no idea how to sing or project your voice without a microphone, you are completely out of luck if the battery goes dead in the middle of your two-measure solo? Did you know that when you use microphones you tend to forget how to execute basic blocking, and sometimes you sing with your butt to the audience? Did you know that about half the time, microphones short out or crackle and pop loudly? You didn't know that? I didn't think so.

Did you watch the film version of your show? Or, did you just watch clips on YouTube, you lazy bum? Did you bother to compare the film version to the stage version, and decide with your director when you were going to consciously imitate (*cough* pay tribute, *cough* copy) the film and when you were going to attempt to be original? I didn't think so.

Did you know that your show was written a while back, and those strange words in the script used to be modern slang? You didn't know that, homeboy? I didn't think so. Therefore, when you didn't comprehend something about your show or your character, you just kept on going, assuming that no one would realize that you had no idea what you were doing? Well, I noticed it -- many times. And I'm not that old, or even that culturally literate. (Here's a rather good modern performance of a dusty old number from a creaky old show.)

Were you at all aware that you were joining your work with the artistic contributions of the thousands of performers who also wore those costumes, danced those dances, recited those lines, and sang those songs? It sounds very "arteeste" but this is in fact what you were doing. There will be thousands more doing it after you. Did you know how important it is to show some respect for yourself and your character, and all the people who played that part before you and all the people who will play it after you, by learning as much possible about the part you are playing in the show you are doing? I didn't think so.

Am I hurting your feelings? Am I being mean and overly judgmental? Am I not recognizing how hard you worked? Am I laying blame at the wrong feet? I don't think so. Dear one, you get credit for trying. It's not professional theater, it's high school. You're learning. I'm sympathetic. But you say you want to perform in college, or beyond. You might not be a professional yet, but at what point do you intend to start behaving -- acting -- like one, even a little? This is what the pros do. They don't perform unless they're informed. You must learn everything you can about your character and your setting, how to deliver lines and songs without gadgets, and how to be a performing artist. Start now.

Yes, I'll still come see your next show. I want to see you. I'll support you every time you give it a shot. But if I see the same uninformed, overly amplified performance out of you next time, I'm going to flee the theater at intermission and order a well-deserved margarita at the closest bar. Who cares if I miss your solo? Your microphone's going to short out, anyway.

Would you notice if I was gone? I didn't think so.

By the way, Great Job.

Love, Eden

Sing Amen, Somebody!

It was late afternoon when Mr. C said, "Isn't tonight the last night of Lenten Hymnal Study?" We'd only been to one meeting due to schedule conflicts, but it was great -- Mr. C's parish (where we were married) invited parishioners to learn more about the hymns of the 1982 Anglican hymnal . . . and sing 'em. So, we went to last night's meeting, the final one of the study. Each week we'd sing a few hymns and hear more about the history of each one. Fifty of us sat in chairs in the multipurpose room. We pulled out the hymnals, the church organist took his place at the piano, and Rev. J started to call out hymn numbers. Tonight wasn't a hymn study -- it was a wonderful orgy of hymn singing!! He had a long list of hymns that had been requested by members of the group and we worked through all of them.  . . about 20 hymns in an hour! I sightread a couple of new ones, but most were old, dear favorites. . . ."Praise To The Lord, The Almighty," "Eternal Father, Strong To Save," "Breathe On Me Breath Of God," "Ye Watchers And Ye Holy Ones," "Come Down O Love Divine," "For The Beauty Of The Earth," "Now The Green Blade Rises," "Seek Ye First." I sang many of them from memory, and so did several other folks. One lady started crying right in the middle and her friend comforted her, and they kept singing. It took me back to the  "Hymnal Sundays" of my childhood church, held once or twice a year -- the whole service was a hymn sing, sometimes with my dad at the organ and my mom in the choir (we started off, of course, with No. 1 in the Methodist Hymnal, "O For A Thousand Tongues To Sing My Great Redeemer's Praise").

I guess a Praise and Worship Team would be the contemporary version of a "Hymnal Sunday," moving from song to song with lyrics projected on a screen, and some microphoned singers in front. Glad it works for some, but that's too close to karaoke for me. I like to cradle a hymnal in my hand. I love flipping through its pages, scanning hundreds of different titles and tunes. I love watching people in the congregation squint at the small typeface, try to figure out the melody (or even the harmony), and then raise their heads and aim their voices straight at the altar when they get to a part of the hymn that they know by heart.

Sometimes I feel like I'm not doing enough to learn about my faith because I haven't memorized a Bible verse each week, and I don't get up at 5am with my Bible and my journal. I do manage to read a little devotional material during Lent, but I barely make it through a decade of the rosary, when I remember to do it. I realized anew last night, I've been singing my faith all my life, and the words and melodies are engraved on my heart. Church musicians know that "singing is praying twice," as St. Augustine said. Last night, I really felt it. God sings His love for me, to me, and I sing it right back. And boy, does that make me happy.

Oh, what a wonderful thing to know, heading into Holy Week! I can't wait to sing "Lift High The Cross," "Pange Lingua," "O Sacred Head Surrounded," and finally "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today."

What's your favorite hymn?

(More good news. . . my Ocean State blogger friend, the self-proclaimed "Snarky Organist" Brian Michael Page, will be starting a new job at Sacred Heart in Warwick, not too far from my home. I'm now within driving distance of a parish -- in my diocese -- that might actually find me useful! Congratulations, Brian! Hope we'll work together very soon.)