(Hat Tip: MomZee, who stays tuned to these items better than I do.)
Bro. Craig Jessop has resigned from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. This news comes as a shock to all of us who have appreciated his contributions to the choir over the years. I especially have appreciated his ability to coax ever-increasing musical proficiency from such a large group of singers. Many of us struggle to pull good sound out of a 20 voice choir; Jessop has done so with 360 voices.
Beyond that, Bro. Jessop is a genuinely nice person. I've only met him once, when I was privileged last fall to sing under his baton during our Interfaith Council concert here in Orange County. Although he was able to martial a group of 10 or so different church choirs using his well-honed rehearsal skills, he also exuded the kind of peaceful testimony of the gospel to which we all aspire.
Craig Jessop is the fourth director of the Tab Choir to serve during my lifetime. I was born and raised during the "reign" of Richard P. Condie. Under Condie, the Choir grew in both size and reputation, becoming a particular favorite of Eugene Ormandy of the Philadelphia Philharmonic Orchestra. Several of my favorite MTC recordings hail from this period, including one of my absolute favorite Christmas recordings.
[Update: Reader "aloysiusmiller" reminds me that Bro. Jay Welch served for a brief time following Bro. Condie. Apparently he didn't make any impression on me — the name is only vaguely familiar to me — but I certainly don't want to slight his memory. Thanks, aloysius!]
In 1974 the baton passed to Jerold Ottley. Under Bro. Ottley the Choir (sometimes affectionately called "Jerry O and the MoTabs") began a significant improvement in both technique and degree of musical difficulty. This was also the same period where I began my own musical "career" in earnest in high school. During a family vacation that year, we were able to attend one of their public rehearsals. I was both thrilled and fascinated by the dynamics of working with such a large group of people. I was impressed that Bro. Ottley had to use a microphone to conduct the rehearsal, and that the Choir had such a professional rehearsal work ethic. Not a sound was heard between run-throughs, and everyone listened intently to Bro. Ottley's direction and teaching. Dad always remembered my critiques of the music they were rehearsing and was impressed that I had learned as much as I had by that time.
When Bro. Jessop was announced as Bro. Ottley's replacement I was, at first, unsure what to think. I had seen Bro. Jessop conduct when he served as Assistant Director during a few sessions of General Conference, and I always found his baton technique to be too physical. I'd never seen a conductor move like he does. It's completely unique in my experience, and I confess it took some getting used to. However, I don't believe anyone can argue with his success as the Choir's director for the past decade. The sound they produce today is nearly flawless, especially compared with recordings from their past. Under the combined talents of Jessop and Mack Wilberg the Choir has continued to impress me musically, and inspire me spiritually.
Fortunately, the Choir is not left entirely bereft. Bro. Wilberg will serve as interim director until the First Presidency can appoint a full-time replacement. Bro. Wilberg may not be quite as dynamic a front-man as Bro. Jessop, but there's no arguing with his musical bona fides. He is every bit the master of this element as is Bro. Jessop, and I have little doubt that he would make an equally wonderful full-time director for the Choir. It will, of course, be fascinating to see just who the Lord chooses to fill this position. It always is.
As a more or less life-long musical servant in the Kingdom myself, I appreciate what Bro. Jessop has done for the Choir, and I wish him every success in whatever endeavors he pursues. He will remain one of my musical and personal inspirations in life. May I aspire to serve as Bro. Jessop has served; faithfully and with complete dedication to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Sing Christmas!
As a choir boy, I have performed Christmas concerts in all but a handful of years since I hit junior high school. I mean I could probably count the number of years in which I've not performed an actual Christmas concert of some kind (not counting ward choirs) on one hand and have fingers left over. That's a lot of Christmas music performed over the course of, what, thirty-five years, give or take.
I'm listening at the moment to the broadcast of the St. Olaf's Christmas celebration on PBS. As they always do, the choirs severally and individually are performing beautiful (and unabashedly) Christmas music. Some of it is very familiar to me, some is not. Because it's St. Olaf's, the performance is interspersed with scriptural readings and lessons.
[Side note of no particular significance except to me: With the near universal adoption of the American Standard and other contemporary transcriptions of the Bible, I find these readings have far less impact when not using the poetic language of the King James version. One could argue that's just the Mormon in me, and that's okay. I still really, really miss hearing it in these concerts. When they read the Christmas story from the American Standard version, it sounds more like a reading out of the Federal Register than holy scripture.]
With the busy schedule of our own Anaheim Mormon Chorale this season, I found myself grousing privately that I wished I could just for Pete's sake sit and listen rather than have to get dressed in my monkey suit and sweat myself through one more concert. Yet here I sit listening to these young choirs wishing I could be up there with them, singing my heart out in awe of the Gift of Christmas who would redeem us all.
The Chorale is pretty much done for the season. We have one more engagement to carol at a local assisted-living center on Christmas Eve (which I hope to make if we're in town that afternoon), but our own Christmas concerts are done until next year. No more "Carol of the Bells," "O Little Town of Bethlehem," or Messiah Sing-Alongs in 2007. That thought leaves me just a tad melancholy.
So now I have my chance to sit and listen. Granted, I'm at home, sitting at my computer, listening to a broadcast on TV, but I'm listening. And secretly wishing I were there, watching the conductor for my cues, and hoping I'm not over-singing. It's a wonderful way to feel the Christmas spirit.
Merry Christmas, and may your New Year be blessed with opportunities to learn and grow.
God bless you.
I'm listening at the moment to the broadcast of the St. Olaf's Christmas celebration on PBS. As they always do, the choirs severally and individually are performing beautiful (and unabashedly) Christmas music. Some of it is very familiar to me, some is not. Because it's St. Olaf's, the performance is interspersed with scriptural readings and lessons.
[Side note of no particular significance except to me: With the near universal adoption of the American Standard and other contemporary transcriptions of the Bible, I find these readings have far less impact when not using the poetic language of the King James version. One could argue that's just the Mormon in me, and that's okay. I still really, really miss hearing it in these concerts. When they read the Christmas story from the American Standard version, it sounds more like a reading out of the Federal Register than holy scripture.]
With the busy schedule of our own Anaheim Mormon Chorale this season, I found myself grousing privately that I wished I could just for Pete's sake sit and listen rather than have to get dressed in my monkey suit and sweat myself through one more concert. Yet here I sit listening to these young choirs wishing I could be up there with them, singing my heart out in awe of the Gift of Christmas who would redeem us all.
The Chorale is pretty much done for the season. We have one more engagement to carol at a local assisted-living center on Christmas Eve (which I hope to make if we're in town that afternoon), but our own Christmas concerts are done until next year. No more "Carol of the Bells," "O Little Town of Bethlehem," or Messiah Sing-Alongs in 2007. That thought leaves me just a tad melancholy.
So now I have my chance to sit and listen. Granted, I'm at home, sitting at my computer, listening to a broadcast on TV, but I'm listening. And secretly wishing I were there, watching the conductor for my cues, and hoping I'm not over-singing. It's a wonderful way to feel the Christmas spirit.
Merry Christmas, and may your New Year be blessed with opportunities to learn and grow.
God bless you.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Interfaith Council Choir Festival
Mrs. Woody made mention a couple of days ago of the "Interfaith Council Choral Festival" that was held here in Orange County last Sunday. It's time I added my observations to hers.
This is something that they've been doing for about four years that I know of. Since I joined the Anaheim Mormon Chorale a year ago, this was my second Interfaith concert. I must say that it's an intriguing blend of philosophies that are represented at these events. I like to think that I've studied a bit about many different religions, but some of the faiths who participate here I've frankly never heard of before. Zoroastrians, for example. New to me! Likewise the Jains. Jain is an ancient religion having its roots in India from about the 6th century, BC. Zoroastrianism is likewise based in India and parts of Iran. Their prophet Zoroaster is said to have proclaimed something called "Mazdaism" (study of rotary engines?) which proclaims the divinity of Ahura Mazda, creator of the universe.
These fascinating facts aside, there's a lot to be said regarding the faith of these many different religions and their adherents. One comment in particular tickled me (and the rest of the audience as well): The Muslim representative stood up immediately following the choir representing a local Jewish synagogue. He made the singularly appropriate comment that he was "a Muslim that just followed a Jewish choir in the house of the Mormons. Thank goodness for the Mormons!" Contrary to current type and hype, this man had nothing remotely inflammatory to say about any other religion. The theme of the event reflected a need to find happiness through faith, and every speaker used their unique points of view to proclaim that message throughout the evening.
One other speaker got a good chuckle out of the audience. One of the Hindi speakers had apparently not made it, and a pastor of, I think, the First Christian church took his place at the podium. He began by stating that he wasn't at all sure he could do any better than the gentleman he was replacing on the program. He spoke well for about 5 minutes or so, at which point the microphone went out. After a few attempts at restoring power to the mic, he finally chuckled, threw up his hands, stated, "See? There IS a god!" and took his seat to much laughter.
But, oh, the music. Understand something: most churches have nothing but volunteer choirs. Often their staff are also volunteers, particularly in our church. Thus you find a wide variance of talent and ability among the many choirs. Such was the case last Sunday. Oddly enough, however, even though our voices were disparate and our styles just as different, there was a sweetness in the music presented by every single choir. A local AME church sent their soulful gospel singers along and raised the decibel level by several notches. A Chinese choir sang one of the sweetest lullabies I'd ever heard. We took our turn as perhaps the best trained group of the bunch, but our music was by no means any more or less significant than that presented by any other choir that night.
The climax of the evening, of course, was the grand finale. Bro. Craig Jessop, conductor of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, conducted all of the singers from every choir (except, for some reason, the AME choir who left early) in a Mack Wilberg arrangement of "Praise to the Lord!" Joining us for this number were members of the Brass section from Chapman University. It was a stirring rendition. We were apparently so strong as a group, that we knocked the power out toward the end of the piece so that the organ cut out completely during one interlude passage. It was back in time for the final chorus, though, and the audience was suitably impressed with the entire evening.
For me it was a chance to hear some wonderful musical traditions from other churches in the area. I can only hope that they appreciated our own offering as a choir representing the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I'm sure the Spirit was there throughout the night, assisting not only our choir, but every other choir and speaker that came to demonstrate their faith in God, however they may understand Him.
Can't wait for next year!
This is something that they've been doing for about four years that I know of. Since I joined the Anaheim Mormon Chorale a year ago, this was my second Interfaith concert. I must say that it's an intriguing blend of philosophies that are represented at these events. I like to think that I've studied a bit about many different religions, but some of the faiths who participate here I've frankly never heard of before. Zoroastrians, for example. New to me! Likewise the Jains. Jain is an ancient religion having its roots in India from about the 6th century, BC. Zoroastrianism is likewise based in India and parts of Iran. Their prophet Zoroaster is said to have proclaimed something called "Mazdaism" (study of rotary engines?) which proclaims the divinity of Ahura Mazda, creator of the universe.
These fascinating facts aside, there's a lot to be said regarding the faith of these many different religions and their adherents. One comment in particular tickled me (and the rest of the audience as well): The Muslim representative stood up immediately following the choir representing a local Jewish synagogue. He made the singularly appropriate comment that he was "a Muslim that just followed a Jewish choir in the house of the Mormons. Thank goodness for the Mormons!" Contrary to current type and hype, this man had nothing remotely inflammatory to say about any other religion. The theme of the event reflected a need to find happiness through faith, and every speaker used their unique points of view to proclaim that message throughout the evening.
One other speaker got a good chuckle out of the audience. One of the Hindi speakers had apparently not made it, and a pastor of, I think, the First Christian church took his place at the podium. He began by stating that he wasn't at all sure he could do any better than the gentleman he was replacing on the program. He spoke well for about 5 minutes or so, at which point the microphone went out. After a few attempts at restoring power to the mic, he finally chuckled, threw up his hands, stated, "See? There IS a god!" and took his seat to much laughter.
But, oh, the music. Understand something: most churches have nothing but volunteer choirs. Often their staff are also volunteers, particularly in our church. Thus you find a wide variance of talent and ability among the many choirs. Such was the case last Sunday. Oddly enough, however, even though our voices were disparate and our styles just as different, there was a sweetness in the music presented by every single choir. A local AME church sent their soulful gospel singers along and raised the decibel level by several notches. A Chinese choir sang one of the sweetest lullabies I'd ever heard. We took our turn as perhaps the best trained group of the bunch, but our music was by no means any more or less significant than that presented by any other choir that night.
The climax of the evening, of course, was the grand finale. Bro. Craig Jessop, conductor of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, conducted all of the singers from every choir (except, for some reason, the AME choir who left early) in a Mack Wilberg arrangement of "Praise to the Lord!" Joining us for this number were members of the Brass section from Chapman University. It was a stirring rendition. We were apparently so strong as a group, that we knocked the power out toward the end of the piece so that the organ cut out completely during one interlude passage. It was back in time for the final chorus, though, and the audience was suitably impressed with the entire evening.
For me it was a chance to hear some wonderful musical traditions from other churches in the area. I can only hope that they appreciated our own offering as a choir representing the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I'm sure the Spirit was there throughout the night, assisting not only our choir, but every other choir and speaker that came to demonstrate their faith in God, however they may understand Him.
Can't wait for next year!
Thursday, November 08, 2007
The. Best. Kids. Christmas. Recording. Ever.
I have expounded the virtues of the "Veggie Tales®" animated shows before. In the mold of Davey and Goliath (now there's a blast from my past!) they teach good fundamental Christian principles and stories. But there the similarities end. "Veggie Tales" are smartly written, artistically rendered, and consistently funny. Their creators have always admitted that they write with a healthy (if one can use that adjective in this context) dose of Monty Python influences, albeit with much cleaner language and context. The result is something that plays equally well with kids and their parents. I can always get some serious chuckles from the "Silly Song" segment, and we have several of their soundtrack recordings, which I monopolize.
A few years ago, we came across a recording called "A Very Veggie Christmas." I love this recording. I just found it in my car this morning when leaving for work, and I chuckled all the way there.
Without giving away too much, you would need to listen to a version of "Feliz Navidad" that includes both a tuba solo and a chicken dance. There's also the "8 Polish Foods of Christmas" that always makes me laugh. In between (and even during) songs there's plenty of authentic Veggie Tales banter and shenanigans. In fact, if you don't listen to the background dialogue, you're in danger of missing some pretty funny stuff. It helps, of course, if you have some familiarity with the animated shows and know the characters. But I don't think it's an absolute requirement.
I used to think it a pity that they never animated this particular album. However, after numerous listenings, I have, like Mitt Romney, been converted to the purer truth. This needs to be seen in the mind's eye. It's a little like listening to old radio broadcasts of Jack Benny. You know that they're just standing in front of studio microphones, but you can see the entire scene and appreciate every bit of it. When Veggie Tales did their first network Christmas special a few years back, they included a few of these songs in the show, but not in the context of the party around which the recording was written. The special was fun, but this recording is funny.
Don't take my word for it. Find it and buy it. Listen to it with your kids this season. You'll both appreciate it, if for somewhat different reasons.
A few years ago, we came across a recording called "A Very Veggie Christmas." I love this recording. I just found it in my car this morning when leaving for work, and I chuckled all the way there.
Without giving away too much, you would need to listen to a version of "Feliz Navidad" that includes both a tuba solo and a chicken dance. There's also the "8 Polish Foods of Christmas" that always makes me laugh. In between (and even during) songs there's plenty of authentic Veggie Tales banter and shenanigans. In fact, if you don't listen to the background dialogue, you're in danger of missing some pretty funny stuff. It helps, of course, if you have some familiarity with the animated shows and know the characters. But I don't think it's an absolute requirement.
I used to think it a pity that they never animated this particular album. However, after numerous listenings, I have, like Mitt Romney, been converted to the purer truth. This needs to be seen in the mind's eye. It's a little like listening to old radio broadcasts of Jack Benny. You know that they're just standing in front of studio microphones, but you can see the entire scene and appreciate every bit of it. When Veggie Tales did their first network Christmas special a few years back, they included a few of these songs in the show, but not in the context of the party around which the recording was written. The special was fun, but this recording is funny.
Don't take my word for it. Find it and buy it. Listen to it with your kids this season. You'll both appreciate it, if for somewhat different reasons.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Voice
The Voice is not happy tonight.
The Voice has been with me for many, many years now. It has been my companion through every stage of life — the good, the bad, and the severely depressing — and we have survived. The Voice has been shaped and molded over several decades. It is nowhere near as elastic as it used to be; but then, neither am I.
The Voice even survived puberty with me. In fact, in many ways The Voice made that transition in far better shape than I did. Over the ensuing years I have done my best to master The Voice. At this stage of life I can only say that, far from mastering it, The Voice and I have reached a mutually beneficial agreement. We are comfortable with each other now. It does its level best not to make a complete fool out of me (difficult, given the roles I've pursued on stage in the past), and I try not to take The Voice too far outside its comfort zone.
The last time I did that was a near disaster. The Voice was fresh out of high school and singing for the local J. C. The choir director had it in his head that The Voice must be capable of stretching into the realm of the counter tenor. Dangerous ground for one so inexperienced and — at the time — relatively intractable. The Voice was asked to perform the treble solo work in Schütz's "Magnificat." Heinrich Schütz liked his tenors, ah, surgically altered, and I probably had no business trying to emulate one at such a tender age. The Voice survived, but that director and I have parted company, never to work together again.
When The Voice started speaking to me again, I vowed not to rough him up so much in future gigs. I stuck to stage work where I could use my Character Voice. The Character Voice shares facilities with The Voice, but doesn't wear them out quite so much. Different still is The Speaking Voice, which at one time was compared with — this is true — a rusty hinge on helium. On stage, one can project to his heart's content, safe in the knowledge that The Character Voice is making few demands on The Voice.
(Note: Once upon a time it was referred to as The Singing Voice, but The Voice is a pretentious snob and prefers the more mysterious cognomen.)
About fifteen years ago I hit my vocal prime. The Voice had somehow matured to a point where it was fairly easy to put up with. It had also gone through what I can only define as a secondary puberty. The Voice insisted it was a 2nd Tenor, and I was more than willing to go along with it.
On second thought, I lie. What I really wanted was for The Voice to drop into baritone range. Baritones are 2nd tenors with attitude problems. But they get meatier roles.
Musically it's been a wonderful time. I have performed for some truly wonderful conductors over the years, and have been invited to solo far more than when I was a scrawny 1st Tenor. I have a recurring gig (until they get tired of me) doing the tenor solo for our annual Messiah Sing-Along here in Yorba Linda. The Anaheim Mormon Chorale has kept me happily busy doing an occasional solo, including some Gilbert & Sullivan.
Except...
We had our first rehearsal of the season a week ago. Our director, JoLane Jolley, is a wonderful musician. Educator, adjudicator, having worked herself with some of the finest conductors in the business. She also knows what she wants to hear, and right now what she wants is more oomph in her 1st Tenors. "Woody," she asked, "would you be willing to do 1st Tenor in falsetto?"
Since this question put Woody immediately in mind of a certain brush with counter-tenorhood, Woody was not pleased. Willing, of course, but not pleased. Woody is extremely comfortable as a 2nd.
The Voice is furious.
The Voice hasn't been stretched like this since I was 18. The Voice is starting to mutter under its breath. I'm hearing words like "mutiny," "retirement," and "Harry Belafonte." (Woody is not implying for a minute that The Voice would deliberately go around singing "Daaaaay-o!" until it went so hoarse that Woody could only speak in croaks, but I'm certain The Voice wants Woody to know that it's capable of doing just that.)
Tonight, after another two-hour workout in this truly unnatural range, The Voice came very close to not speaking to me again. I tried to soothe it by reminding it that I stayed in head voice for as long as possible. I only resorted to falsetto on a few occasions, and only for short bursts! The Character Voice has been chuckling to itself all night long. The Voice, meanwhile, is huffing around the house demanding its own dressing room. With chilled sparkling water.
No, The Voice is not easily appeased. Woody has been sort of croaking since returning home tonight. I'm hoping that The Voice feels much better after a good night's sleep.
"Daylight come, an' I wan' go home."
The Voice has been with me for many, many years now. It has been my companion through every stage of life — the good, the bad, and the severely depressing — and we have survived. The Voice has been shaped and molded over several decades. It is nowhere near as elastic as it used to be; but then, neither am I.
The Voice even survived puberty with me. In fact, in many ways The Voice made that transition in far better shape than I did. Over the ensuing years I have done my best to master The Voice. At this stage of life I can only say that, far from mastering it, The Voice and I have reached a mutually beneficial agreement. We are comfortable with each other now. It does its level best not to make a complete fool out of me (difficult, given the roles I've pursued on stage in the past), and I try not to take The Voice too far outside its comfort zone.
The last time I did that was a near disaster. The Voice was fresh out of high school and singing for the local J. C. The choir director had it in his head that The Voice must be capable of stretching into the realm of the counter tenor. Dangerous ground for one so inexperienced and — at the time — relatively intractable. The Voice was asked to perform the treble solo work in Schütz's "Magnificat." Heinrich Schütz liked his tenors, ah, surgically altered, and I probably had no business trying to emulate one at such a tender age. The Voice survived, but that director and I have parted company, never to work together again.
When The Voice started speaking to me again, I vowed not to rough him up so much in future gigs. I stuck to stage work where I could use my Character Voice. The Character Voice shares facilities with The Voice, but doesn't wear them out quite so much. Different still is The Speaking Voice, which at one time was compared with — this is true — a rusty hinge on helium. On stage, one can project to his heart's content, safe in the knowledge that The Character Voice is making few demands on The Voice.
(Note: Once upon a time it was referred to as The Singing Voice, but The Voice is a pretentious snob and prefers the more mysterious cognomen.)
About fifteen years ago I hit my vocal prime. The Voice had somehow matured to a point where it was fairly easy to put up with. It had also gone through what I can only define as a secondary puberty. The Voice insisted it was a 2nd Tenor, and I was more than willing to go along with it.
On second thought, I lie. What I really wanted was for The Voice to drop into baritone range. Baritones are 2nd tenors with attitude problems. But they get meatier roles.
Musically it's been a wonderful time. I have performed for some truly wonderful conductors over the years, and have been invited to solo far more than when I was a scrawny 1st Tenor. I have a recurring gig (until they get tired of me) doing the tenor solo for our annual Messiah Sing-Along here in Yorba Linda. The Anaheim Mormon Chorale has kept me happily busy doing an occasional solo, including some Gilbert & Sullivan.
Except...
We had our first rehearsal of the season a week ago. Our director, JoLane Jolley, is a wonderful musician. Educator, adjudicator, having worked herself with some of the finest conductors in the business. She also knows what she wants to hear, and right now what she wants is more oomph in her 1st Tenors. "Woody," she asked, "would you be willing to do 1st Tenor in falsetto?"
Since this question put Woody immediately in mind of a certain brush with counter-tenorhood, Woody was not pleased. Willing, of course, but not pleased. Woody is extremely comfortable as a 2nd.
The Voice is furious.
The Voice hasn't been stretched like this since I was 18. The Voice is starting to mutter under its breath. I'm hearing words like "mutiny," "retirement," and "Harry Belafonte." (Woody is not implying for a minute that The Voice would deliberately go around singing "Daaaaay-o!" until it went so hoarse that Woody could only speak in croaks, but I'm certain The Voice wants Woody to know that it's capable of doing just that.)
Tonight, after another two-hour workout in this truly unnatural range, The Voice came very close to not speaking to me again. I tried to soothe it by reminding it that I stayed in head voice for as long as possible. I only resorted to falsetto on a few occasions, and only for short bursts! The Character Voice has been chuckling to itself all night long. The Voice, meanwhile, is huffing around the house demanding its own dressing room. With chilled sparkling water.
No, The Voice is not easily appeased. Woody has been sort of croaking since returning home tonight. I'm hoping that The Voice feels much better after a good night's sleep.
"Daylight come, an' I wan' go home."
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
I Don't Do Windows®, Either
I'm just certain I've mentioned before that, while I do have a modicum of musical talent, I have never undertaken any real formal musical education in my life.
Ever.
Oh, yeah, okay, I did take a couple of semesters' worth of theory and such on the off chance that I might parlay that into a career as a music teacher. It only took a few months, however, to realize that I could never get serious about such a career for one reason, and one reason alone: I don't play the piano.
Music majors are expected to be able to hammer out their "compositions" in theory class, for example, and my piano skills were (and still are) non-existent. A few years (okay, many years) later I tried one last time to get serious about studying music, despite my fear of learning to play piano. I applied (and was even accepted!) for the musical pedagogy course at Southern Utah. I auditioned for a man who told me that his own reputation as a pianist was to be nicknamed "The Claw" by his professors in college. I suspected that I would never rise to that level, even, and soon dropped out without ever having set foot on campus as a new student.
I find it thus ironic that I have been asked to teach men at church how to sing.
Our Stake is sponsoring a music workshop this coming weekend that is designed to help folks get more comfortable with certain basic musical functions. Things like learning how to conduct hymns, for example, or beginning organ skills. When I saw that there would be classes in learning how to sing different parts, one for women and one for men, I wondered what poor sucker they'd nail to try to teach a bunch of recalcitrant men to follow a tenor or bass line in a hymn book. What loser would even attempt to teach men who have never sung anything but melody by rote for the last 50 years to sing a tenor line?
"Hey, Brother Woody, I've been meaning to ask you something!"
That this person is our Stake Music Chairman fills me with a sudden dread.
"Oh, yes?"
What ensues is begging at its most refined. She was so desperate to find someone to take that workshop that she even contemplated asking her husband to do it. I know her husband, and he is a terrific guy, but music is not his strong suit. I think he plays some piano, but in the six years we've been in the ward, I've never once heard the man sing. She had wanted to ask me sooner, but knowing of Mrs. Woody's convalescence had been hesitant to ask at all.
"Will there be a pianist?" My last possible out. I don't do piano.
"I'll make sure you have one!"
I really can't turn the lady down. She was my first choir accompanist when I got the calling in our second year here, and I'm sure I owe her far more than this measly workshop will ever repay.
"Sure. I'll just make sure it won't conflict with anything we've been planning at home." (It doesn't.)
So now I'm on the hook to teach old dogs extremely new tricks. For some of them, at least. My current plan consists of dividing them up by voice, hammering out their parts on a hymn or two, and telling them what a wonderful job they're doing.
I plan to wear ear plugs and smile a lot.
Ever.
Oh, yeah, okay, I did take a couple of semesters' worth of theory and such on the off chance that I might parlay that into a career as a music teacher. It only took a few months, however, to realize that I could never get serious about such a career for one reason, and one reason alone: I don't play the piano.
Music majors are expected to be able to hammer out their "compositions" in theory class, for example, and my piano skills were (and still are) non-existent. A few years (okay, many years) later I tried one last time to get serious about studying music, despite my fear of learning to play piano. I applied (and was even accepted!) for the musical pedagogy course at Southern Utah. I auditioned for a man who told me that his own reputation as a pianist was to be nicknamed "The Claw" by his professors in college. I suspected that I would never rise to that level, even, and soon dropped out without ever having set foot on campus as a new student.
I find it thus ironic that I have been asked to teach men at church how to sing.
Our Stake is sponsoring a music workshop this coming weekend that is designed to help folks get more comfortable with certain basic musical functions. Things like learning how to conduct hymns, for example, or beginning organ skills. When I saw that there would be classes in learning how to sing different parts, one for women and one for men, I wondered what poor sucker they'd nail to try to teach a bunch of recalcitrant men to follow a tenor or bass line in a hymn book. What loser would even attempt to teach men who have never sung anything but melody by rote for the last 50 years to sing a tenor line?
"Hey, Brother Woody, I've been meaning to ask you something!"
That this person is our Stake Music Chairman fills me with a sudden dread.
"Oh, yes?"
What ensues is begging at its most refined. She was so desperate to find someone to take that workshop that she even contemplated asking her husband to do it. I know her husband, and he is a terrific guy, but music is not his strong suit. I think he plays some piano, but in the six years we've been in the ward, I've never once heard the man sing. She had wanted to ask me sooner, but knowing of Mrs. Woody's convalescence had been hesitant to ask at all.
"Will there be a pianist?" My last possible out. I don't do piano.
"I'll make sure you have one!"
I really can't turn the lady down. She was my first choir accompanist when I got the calling in our second year here, and I'm sure I owe her far more than this measly workshop will ever repay.
"Sure. I'll just make sure it won't conflict with anything we've been planning at home." (It doesn't.)
So now I'm on the hook to teach old dogs extremely new tricks. For some of them, at least. My current plan consists of dividing them up by voice, hammering out their parts on a hymn or two, and telling them what a wonderful job they're doing.
I plan to wear ear plugs and smile a lot.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The Hallelujah Chorus - Of a Sort
Via my mostly-saintly mother, who got it from a former conductor:
My co-workers now think I have completely lost it.
I think I very nearly did. Enjoy.
My co-workers now think I have completely lost it.
I think I very nearly did. Enjoy.
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