All Good Gifts

Today is Thanksgiving; a day for giving thanks for what we have, and not kvetching about what we might not have. 

I am thankful for my family: twins, Nicole and Luke; and their significant others, Jay and Beka; my youngest, Christopher. My wonderful husband, Bill. I am thankful that I am able to contribute to the roof over our heads with my music. I am thankful for friends and extended family. 

I want to share one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite Broadway musicals. This is All Good Gifts from Godspell. (This was Stephen Schwartz' first musical - he later gave us Pippen and Wicked, among others) This is from the 10th anniversary reunion show with the original cast. You get the parable leading up to the song, so don't turn away because the music hasn't started at the beginning.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Songs?

So, last week I ranted a bit about background music. I don't like background music, for the simple reason that I don't find it to be in the background. I hum along with the muzak at the grocery, in elevators, at the fabric store, wherever. Music is never in the background for me. (Do you think that being a musician has anything to do with that?)

Anyway, I complained about the presence of Christmas music in the stores just after Halloween. I still contend that this is a cynical ploy on the part of the management to make us feel in the Christmas spirit and spend more money. And I'm sure that for some people it works. Me, it just annoys and makes me want to shop on-line. No background music at home.

But, I got to thinking: why can't they play Thanksgiving Music? Grocery stores could start piping in all the lovely Thanksgiving carols and make us buy bigger turkeys and more stuffing mix (for those out there who don't make their own cornbread!) Hmm. . . Thanksgiving Music. Is there any?

Over the River and Through the Woods  This is the first song that occurs to me. I'd hoped to find a better version of it than this one, but sadly, many of them turn it into a Christmas song.  In giving this song to one of my students, she argued that even though it mentions Thanksgiving Day, it has to be a Christmas song because of the snow. Here in Albuquerque, we don't see that much snow on Thanksgiving. We don't see that much snow on Christmas, either, but in her mind snow equates Christmas, not Thanksgiving. But, in other parts of the country, there is snow for Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and New Years, and Valentine's Day, and even Easter. Oh, yeah, and it's usually snowing in those places before Halloween. (Trick or treating in the snow - what memories!)

Of course, there are many hymns that qualify as Thanksgiving songs: Come, Ye Thankful People Come, We Gather Together, and Give Thanks;  lovely songs all, but not what I'm looking for. I want to deal with secular music right now. 

I found an interesting number performed by Johnny Cash, Thanksgiving/I Thank You. Johnny's not wearing his usual black, but wearing overalls.  But, still, the song is overwhelmingly sacred. He may do some of his best singing on the chorus. I've always had a sneaking fondness for the "man in black" but, I've never thought he was a good singer.

I found Mary Chapin Carpenter's Thanksgiving Song. Wow. Where to start with this one? I'm sure that this song means a great deal to someone out there, but not me. The lyrics seem to consist of a list of things to be thankful for:  no real point, just a list. But the lyrics are brilliant compared to the stultifyingly boring melody. There seem to be only 4 notes in the whole song! (OK, I know there are several more, but that's how it seems to me.)  And the tempo . . . it's definitely not what we would call up-beat.

There's Natalie Merchant's Kind and Generous. Once more, I'm at a loss. I'm not familiar with Ms Merchant's other works. And this (follow the link) is at the end of a concert, and live, so perhaps she was tired and her voice was shot. I'll be generous and hope that was the issue, because there are a LOT of notes that she almost hit. (And if I'm feeling generous, perhaps she should be thankful.) Most of them were just enough under the tone that you could tell what note she meant to sing. Painful. And then there are her lyrics. She's not just rambling off a list of things to be thankful for;  she's apparently thanking a specific person for services rendered. But she runs out of lyrics before the song is even half over; she just keeps repeating herself. I got kind of bored. At least the song is upbeat, unlike Ms Carpenter's opus.

(You may notice, I'm not giving you a whole lot of videos, just links. That's because there haven't been any songs that I've liked yet. The only reason I gave you the video to Over the River is because it gave you the lyrics as proof that it's a Thanksgiving song.)

Natalie Cole did a song called, Be Thankful. Once again, I'm not a big Natalie Cole fan. I've always thought that she was riding on her father's coat-tails. (Nat King Cole, if you're too young to remember. If you don't, look him up on YouTube. Voice like velvet, so warm and smooth.) I will say that this song is upbeat, but it struck me a being somewhat shrill. (That could also be the headache that our weather has brought on.) But, I didn't like it. 

And, still in the realm of songs I don't like, I give you the link to Adam Sandler's Thanksgiving Song. I REALLY don't like this one. I only mention it because the title does lead one to think it's a song about Thanksgiving.  And it is.  I just really don't like it. The content is often rude, but my biggest dislike is reserved for his singing. Or screeching. I only like him on occasion: the Wedding Singer and Happy Gilmore. That's about all that come to mind. And in the Wedding Singer he proved that he CAN sing. To an extent. So, I get even more angry with what he does the rest of the time. . . 

But enough of that rant.

Hmm, are there any good Thanksgiving Songs? There have to be some. But, we may have to get a little tricky here. Let's start with Louis Armstrong. How can I complain about Adam Sandler's singing and yet enjoy Satchmo's? That's a good question. For one thing, Satchmo is a part of my childhood. He died in 1971, when I was 10. And I remember seeing him in movies like Hello, Dolly, and on TV, and the whole family liked to listen to his trumpet. I think it has to do also with his enthusiasm and his heart being in the music. It's there for all the world to see, with nothing held back. Compare that to Mr. Sandler just trying to be funny. What a wonderful world.

No mention is given of being thankful for these things, and like Ms Carpenter's song, a lot of it is just a list. But the emotion here (and the fact that I think it's a better song) make all the difference. I just wish he'd played that trumpet in his hand.

If we expand giving thanks to thanking someone, not a big leap, then we can have Bette Midler and The Wind Beneath my Wings. The Nameless Cynic does not understand why I like the Divine Miss M, but a lot of it, once again, has to do with the emotion poured into her singing, with nothing held back. This song was horribly overplayed when it first came out, but it's been awhile, and so I can like it again.

These are a few Pop songs. What about Broadway? Does no one there have anything to be thankful for? 

The first Broadway song that comes to mind actually breaks my own ban on sacred music. It's from Godspell, but that's another blog. (Stay tuned!)

The next song, though, doesn't break my own ban. Irving Berlin, an icon of American music, wrote the score of "Annie, Get Your Gun."  I sang some of the music from this with the Cheyenne Symphony when we lived there. And while I had fun, it's not my usual style. And I may annoy some Bernadette Peters fans, I actually prefer Reba McEntire. I think the country sound fits this part. And this song is about being thankful for what we have. (Although, the evening gowns and tuxes imply that they still have quite a bit!)

I'm saving my favorite Thanksgiving song for Turkey Day, itself. In the meantime, what are your favorite Thanksgiving songs?

Will you just listen?

"Listen my children and you shall hear. . . " 

"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!" 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and William Shakespeare were both talking about listening. In the Harry Dresden books, Jim Butcher introduces the concept of Listening (capital L) which he's not sure is a magical gift, or just a form of intense concentration. 

We went to a fabric store last weekend, and they were already piping in Christmas music. It started with a Celine Dion Christmas song. About three songs later was Paul McCartney's Wonderful Christmas Time. Now, as you may (or may not) have noticed, I am a huge McCartney fan. But I don't want to listen to Christmas music in the first week of November; I get annoyed by things like that. I wanted to leave. My husband (the Nameless Cynic) actually complained. The worker had no idea, having tuned the music out ages ago.

This was an example of the crime that background music has become:  it's used as a subliminal marketing ploy to tempt us to spend more money. It's used as white noise to block out the world, or sometimes to block out our own thoughts. It blasts through us, leaving very little memory of what we've heard. It's become ubiquitous: nowhere can you escape its nefarious sound.

Do you get the feeling that I dislike background music? For me, there is no background music.  I almost always notice it, and almost always find it distracting. I prefer silence.  

The Merriam-Webster dictionary gives three definitions for this intransitive verb "listen." 1) to pay attention to sound, 2) to hear something with thoughtful attention, and 3) to be alert to catch an unexpected sound. Various websites give anywhere from four to twenty-five different forms of "listening." Depending on whom you listen to, this type of listening is either "casual" or "inactive." In any case, no communication is accomplished, and the mind is not involved. That's what background music receives: the "in one ear and out the other" type of listening. 

Then there are amplified, ensemble-based concerts. You can call them rock concerts, jazz concerts, things along those lines. There might be thousands of people in the audience, and the music, though it might have a lead performer, will be ensemble based. 

I'm thinking of the Bob Seger concert I went to. Or Styx, Frampton, Cher. A different type of listening goes on here. I tend to wear earplugs when I go to these, wanting to protect my hearing, but I still listen. The mind is more engaged. The music is the purpose for the gathering, instead of just drifting through the air, ignored. Of course, we've also paid a lot of money to be there, so we WILL enjoy ourselves! But there's also a lot more going on. There's the spectacle (and let me tell you, Cher puts on quite an impressive spectacle).  There is also the emotional intensity of the crowd around you, that catches you up and brings on an adrenaline high.  

But, while your mind is actively engaged and you are enjoying yourself, at no moment does time stop to appreciate one perfect note. (Or at least it hasn't yet for me. But I'm also not a rock musician.) Time flies, certainly, because I'm having fun. But time doesn't stop, even if Cher can turn it back. I guess this would be a form of appreciative listening. Listening to be entertained, but with little critical intent.

At smaller concerts featuring acoustic, un-amplified performers, that's when time can stop. I'm thinking classical guitarists, and of course singers. Moments when you're listening so intently, and that one perfect note happens. 

Time stops. Nothing else in the world matters but that note. It is ineffably beautiful. 

I get goosebumbs just thinking about the times I've experienced that.  Frederica von Stade achieved that, singing Send in the Clowns. And to be honest, I think Send in the Clowns is a stupid song: it has the verses in the wrong order, and so it doesn't really make much sense. But when she sang it, it moved me.

This type of listening has a bit more discernment. Not only are you listening to enjoy (and once more, you probably forked over a lot of money to be there). But you are also expecting a very high level of artistry. And although I love Cher, I don't expect that level from her. This is not at all about the spectacle, and is all about the music. You expect each note to be flawless, and you look forward to those rare, perfect notes. (Yes, there is a difference between flawless and perfect. Somehow, perfect goes beyond flawless. I really can't explain it. Sorry.)

And then we have critical listening. In this type of listening, you can still experience those perfect notes, but the intent is not just to appreciate the beauty of the music, but to try and discern the technique that lies underneath the art. While I'm sure that this can apply to all instruments, I'm going to focus on the voice. That is the instrument I know best, after all! 

This is the type of listening that I want my students to acquire. And, I find this works best with recordings. It's easier to back up a recording and listen again. Singers get upset when you interrupt their song, and they get really cranky when you ask them to sing that note over and over so that you can figure out how they are doing it. 

Don't know why. Seems unreasonable of  them, but there you have it. Recordings are probably best for this. Sometimes it's best to close your eyes and really focus. Although, with YouTube, you can see them and try to analyse what they are doing physically. I even imagine my muscles going through the motions with them. (This harkens back to my blog on Proper Focus and visualization.)

As with so much of singing, it's hard to explain how to do this. I would start with a song or aria that you have printed music for. Listen to the song several times, paying attention to where they breathe. Do you like their choices in this? Do you think that a breath in a different part of the phrase would make more sense? Make notes on your music. (USE PENCIL! You may end up changing your mind, and if you've written in pen, you are doomed. Doomed, I tell you!)  

Practice the song at this point, trying to incorporate these ideas. This is where you may find that some of the places where they took a breath just don't work for you. 

Then start to notice their dynamics: where they get louder or softer, where they sped up or slowed down, where they got more or less intense. Do you agree with their choices? Once again, mark these in your music! If you don't write them down, you will forget them. Then go back to the keyboard, and practice again. 

Do you like how they are sounding on a particular note? Play that note over and over again. Try to hear how they are reaching it. Is the note placed forward? What vowel sound are they really singing? (As opposed to how you would think the word should be pronounced.) Are they raising the soft palate? (Yes, once you've learned how to listen, you really can hear that.) Write these notes in your music! (It may be getting hard to actually read the music notation, but that's OK, because you should have the song memorized by now, having heard and sung it so many times!)

Are you getting the idea that this process will take a while? Good! Because it will. Does every song need this kind of care? NO! 

Are operatic arias the only songs that are deserving of this amount of care and effort? NO! There is a lot of lovely music out there that deserves this kind of treatment. Yes, a lot of them are operatic, but not all. And not everything operatic really deserves all this work, either. 

Isn't this cheating, stealing artistry from other people? Ooo, good question! Yes, if all that you did was to take their ideas and not add anything to them. But that's not the idea. You take their ideas, their artistry, and learn from them. Then you add your own soul into the mix, and make it yours. Students learning how to paint will often copy the masters to learn about brush strokes, or the use of light and dark. This is the same idea. 

You also have to be careful of whom you listen to. for example, Pink might not be the best singing model. This is also a part of developing a discerning ear: learning whom you can learn from. 

Sometimes you might learn how not to do something. That can be important, too. Sarah Brightman can teach us a lot on how not to breathe. Cecilia Bartoli can teach a lot on how not to move your face. 

(Really. That's her over to the right. Just try and watch the woman without wanting to laugh at some point: I dare you. Sometimes, a bad example is the best example.)

You might have noticed that I haven't supplied you with any background music for this blog, as I sometimes to. A deliberate choice on my part. I will give you a closing video. Montserrat Caballe singing O mio babbino caro from Puccini's Gianni Schicchi, from 1990. 

Some critical comments first: Wow, but that woman's big! I'm sure that her health and voice were suffering because of all the excess weight. Her breath control certainly is suffering, some of the phrases in the early part of the aria are a little odd. BUT - her high notes are things of pure beauty. How does she do them? I'm still working on that one. Listen to how she hits them and then backs off the volume, making the notes just hang in the air. From the context, I gather that this is an encore. She tells the audience what the aria is, and assures them that it's not long but brief. 

Tommy, can you hear me?

Naked people have little or no influence in society. (Mark Twain)

This week I started rehearsing for an Opera Unlimited production, Mozart & Company. If you don't know, Opera Unlimited is a non-profit organization that brings operas into the elementary schools all over New Mexico. Our operas are always in English, and never last longer than 40 minutes. (They have to fit in a class period.) Often, we are the only opera these children have ever seen, and frequently the only live performance they've been exposed to.

Anyway, Mozart & Co is being relaunched. We ran it several years ago, and are hoping to perform it again this school year. Unlike our other productions: Hansel & Gretel,  Little Red Riding Hood, and Cinderella, Mozart doesn't tell a story. It's a series of operatic vignettes, bit and pieces from various operas. Mostly Mozart, but not all. 

One of my numbers is the Marcellina/Susanna duet from Le Nozze di Figaro ("The Marriage of Figaro"). I play Marcellina, the older lady, who is arguing with Susanna over who will go through a door first. Insults fly. We play it up a bit more, but this will give you an idea of what we do. (Don't try to understand it, unless you speak Italian; this one is not sung in English.)

Mozart & Co is a trunk show. This means that we don't have a set; costumes and props are minimal and are pulled out of bins that we have on stage. Our base costume is a pair of black pants, with a black t-shirt that has Mozart & Co in big white letters on the front, and we occasionally put additional costumes on top of that. 

I pulled the bins out of my garage, where they've been stored (the company has a storage unit, I've just been too lazy to drive there!) and looked over the costumes. They had been thrown together sort of at the last minute. Nothing was planned out, and they looked like it. So this week I've been sewing costumes. Again.

Costumes are a vital part of any production. They can set the mood of a scene, tell us about the characters, give us relationships, and make a company look good or look cheap. For the two women in the cast, I'm sewing a lot of skirts. How many is "a lot?" Two for the Marcellina/Susanna duet, one for Muzetta, and two more for The Merry Wives of Windsor scene. So, five. 

Each costume has several requirements: they must set the historic era, be colorful (we are performing for the K-5 crowd, after all), be durable, fit a wide variety of sizes (we have several people in our pool of players), and be easy to get on and off (costume changes are made while we're talking in front of the kids). Oh yeah, and since we're a non-profit, they need to be cheap.

That's quite a list of requirements, but not impossible. Actually, I think it's kind of fun. You see, I really do love to sew. It wasn't something that my mother taught me growing up: Dad bought me my first sewing machine and taught me how to use it. But he didn't know how to read a pattern, so my skills didn't really take off until college. 

I was a theater major at first: I tried to have a double major (theater and music), but it was a small school, and the music department consisted of only one person. He didn't like my dad. (Yes, this matters to the story. Dad was the head of the education department there, and so I had free tuition.) To make things even worse, he didn't like the theater department (which consisted of about 3 people). He told me that I had no talent and should get out of music. (You can see how well I listened to that jerk!) 

So, anyway, I was a theater major. And the faculty had the idea that we should learn how to do everything ourselves: acting, makeup, lights, set design and construction, and costumes. I even learned how to wire a light switch there. 

The first costume I ever made was a tunic made out of a beautiful red silk velvet. Velvet is supposed to be difficult to work with. It's possible that this was an example of the bumblebee principle (which says that aerodynamically, the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly; the bumblebee, not knowing this, flies anyway*).  Because I didn't know that velvet was hard to work with, I didn't have any problems. 

Since that time, I've sewn with just about every fabric I can think of, and have tackled many an advanced project. Yes, I've also ripped out many, many seams and started over, but the finished product is usually pretty good. 

Today has been dedicated to working on a doublet for Sir John Falstaff for a scene from The Merry Wives of Windsor. (I tried to find a video of the scene that we do, and failed. Sorry.)

But I'm working with two lovely satin brocades: one is blue with gold, and the other is gold on gold. How can I work with such gorgeous fabrics on little to no budget? The answer is that I went to thrift stores, and bought draperies. We could never had afforded these luxurious textiles at a fabric store. But since I bought used window dressings, they are suddenly really cheap. Yes, I have to get a little creative with cutting out the pieces, but I love that kind of figuring and piecing. It's a challenge. (You'd think I'd be better at Tetris.)

As I said, this hasn't been about music this week.  But costumes add so much to any production, that I thought they deserved their own week. I keep hearing the music we're working on while I'm cutting, pinning, and sewing. I'll leave you with Susanna's dressing aria from Le Nozze di Figaro. When I sing this in Mozart and Company, I'm putting a clown costume on a little kid. (Like I said, we are playing to the K-5 crowd!)

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* If you are curious about how bumblebees fly, here you are - straight from the bees themselves.