ToT: La Musica

How has music impacted my life? More like how hasn't it.

Music is as integrated into my life as food or sleep. Sometimes it is glorious, sometimes it is a responsibility, sometimes it is hardly noticed. It has been a long time since I really reflected on music. Now, I'm thinking of all of my musical memories, experiences, and aspirations . . . oy, this could take awhile.



Music was ingrained in me before I was born; it's in the genes. On my mom's side, music was fun. Grandma and Grandpa would listen to the radio and dance in the living room. My mom played clarinet in marching band and oboe in orchestra; she went to all-state a few times. She can handle a piano, too. On dad's side, we had 'serious music.' Grandpa was an excellent pianist. My dad fell asleep listening to my grandfather play Chopin. Great Uncle Frank played violin. Great-Grandma Anderson (one of J's namesakes) played piano by ear, but well. My dad grew up on piano lessons and played trombone and french horn. Obviously, the fun and serious crossed paths on both sides, but even now these preferences hold true.

Good ol' J.S. Bach

Growing up, my mom regularly sang each of about four million silly songs she knows taught me how at a very young age. I had records of old folk songs, old Disney songs, church music, all kinds of stuff. Both my parents played music at church, so I spent a lot of Saturdays dancing around while they practiced. I remember developing preferences early . . . as a kid, I just couldn't take my dad's Brahms piano concertos (too thick! too slow and low!) but would listen to Mozart over and over and over. I had a tape set of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, and Wagner. Wagner didn't make the cut as a kid. In third grade, I got to go to Indianapolis Children's Choir summer camp. I LOVED it. It was time consuming and waaaaay too expensive, so it was short-lived, but that was my first taste of taking singing seriously. My grandpa had been teaching me piano, and by fourth grade or so I was taking lessons. I wanted to play classical music, and this teacher made me learn chording for pop . . . so backwards of the usual experience! I learned a lot from him, but I will never be a piano genius. By fourth or fifth grade, I relished having time home alone . . . because I would break out my parents' Norton Scores and sit at the piano and listen to excerpts from Messiah over and over and over, first reading the soprano line, then alto, all the way down. (Yes, I am that cool.) I had a friend whose dad was in a band, and we would spend hours in their music room playing and singing all kinds of stuff, plenty of it garbage I'm sure. Nan and I would listen to that high-quality nineties pop and sing and dance our little hearts out. (There may be a picture forthcoming . . . watch out!) When it came time to choose an instrument in sixth grade, I went for violin in honor of my grandfather. They offered me the chance to play harp since I could manage piano, but harps are HUGE and also expensive. (Now I know that harpists get work and get paid . . . if I knew then what I know now. I love harp!) My little violin was portable and squeaky, but I loved it.

I was pretty good at violin in 6th grade; I chalk that up to simply being musically literate. Because eventually, by the time I got to high school, I realized I wasn't getting any better. (Stay posted for some possibly amazing photos of some other ToT string players :).) I never took private lessons and I had the most ridiculous difficulty playing vibrato--I just couldn't get my wrist to relax properly. I practiced plenty, though I must admit a good chunk was laying on the couch with my feet in the air. I made it through freshman year in orchestra, somehow in the second violins in the full orchestra, and I got to play some pretty great music--Grieg, Mendelssohn, Copland, and good ol' Mozart, and then I quit. I was pretty sure I had maxed out my ability in violin, and I was so curious about singing.

Here came show choir. (Another photo-op . . .) As a sophomore, I finally sang a solo in my fancy sequined blue dress in the girls' choir, HiLites . . . and it happened to be Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is You." Too bad I was obsessed with Tori Amos and had never heard that song! I sang it about as straight and plain as it could have been sung, with plenty of heart but very little musical soul. Oops. Still, I guess this was when I found out I could sing, for sure. I wasn't sure how well, but I was sure I could do it. When we got to sing classical music, that was exciting for me. Latin! Big harmonies! "Real" music! I was pretty lonely in my excitement, but I loved it. I spent the rest of high school in many, many rehearsals for show choir and musicals. I was pretty lucky to have great choir teachers (shout out to Mrs Anderson and Mr Carter!) and great opportunities. I got to be Dorothy. (Of course, says the perfectionist, I can think of a million ways to play it better now, but I have grace for my 17 year old self.) I still remember the Ave Maria we sung in Connection. I got to take voice lessons and start on those Italian classics, some French song, and lieder, though I got the message that I was a 'musical theater'-type singer. I was good with that--I loved musical theater in those days. Still, I worked my tail off and even got a little scholarship to study music in college.

I started my undergrad with a theatre major and music minor, but quickly shifted my focus to music--voice performance. This is where I fell in love with 'la voce,' as the dramatic singers say, or the voice. I sang opera for the first time--Adele's aria from Die Fleidermaus--and I loved it. And then the same teacher had me sing Madame Butterfly . . . at age 19 . . . with my teeny, tiny coluratura voice. Oops again. (She was a nice lady, but she didn't work there long.) Then my next teacher killed time for a year and taught me how to unhinge my jaw and drop it. BIG oops. He doesn't work there anymore either. And now I have TMJ disorder. Nice. And THEN I had two people enter my world who really taught me how to sing. They saved my voice.

We got a new department chair, and she knew the voice. She brought in a tough and beautiful singer who saved my technique and gave me a shot. I spent a year learning how to breathe and relax my (posteriorly tied, as it turns out) tongue. Some of the other students were pretty inspiring. I got to sing some nifty little one-act operas (that was the biggest my little school went) and churn out some high notes in the notorious 'Glitter and Be Gay.' My teacher hooked me up with a teacher at IU, and I got up the guts to audition for grad school. I knew if I wanted to take this further I needed more training, so after spending a year working up my Bach cantata (which I LOVE), I auditioned. It went great. I was floored. I sang on a Saturday and knew I was in on a Monday, and I had teachers leaving me voicemails to ask me to join their studio. I couldn't believe it, I had doubted I would even get in. Before I knew it I was making plans to spend the summer in Italy studying with other IU students.

And then my world crashed.

In 2002, the last bit of my senior year of undergrad was the hardest time my family and I have ever faced, to put it mildly. Music--especially a music career--was no longer important, or even appealing. I let Italy go, because I wanted to stay with my family. I hated being onstage--HATED it--but I finished what I started. I went ahead to IU because I had already made the decision. The first year was a blur, but by the second I started making some progress. I got some good opportunities and settled my technique, but singing was much lower on my priority list than ever before. I got married :) and spent plenty of time with my family--and that was as it should have been. I did leave on a high note--the best singing I ever did at IU was on my audition to get in and in my final recital.

I hated the way I learned it, but I now know that the life of a singer is no life for me. The show must go on. I am not one of those people who can sing when my inside is all in shambles. Singing comes from the gut--quite literally--and if my gut is a wreck, then my singing isn't free and isn't me. While at IU, I was the first one out of my costume and out the door following opera performances. No mingling or receiving line for me. Sacrificing time with friends and family, always being 'on' because you never know when that opportunity might arise, being ready to move to where the work is, was just not what I wanted. And it took me some time to adjust (and it took some explaining to my teachers!), but I am OK with that. Many singers can find a balance and make it work, but for me, that wasn't a juggling act I wanted. Performance was never the main thing for me anyway--it was the craft and the beauty of it.

I spent some time teaching. I love teaching serious students, but there are only so many Disney songs I can rehearse with 12 year olds. I sang with the Symphonic Choir a bit and got to float some high notes after running a half marathon, so that's a great memory. And now I sing with my church. It's a great fit for me. At Bethlehem Lutheran, we sing 'serious music.' I've sung Poulenc, Part, Schubert, Mozart, Bach, Bach, and more Bach at church. No pressure, just good people singing quality music. I get to sing just enough to keep me happy, and I get to pay off those student loans. :)  It's a humbling honor to be a part of the spiritual experience of the people in the congregation, and it brought me to a whole new place in my faith. Singing the Schubert 'Benedictus' from his Mass in 2008 was the first time my heart swelled while singing since 2002. (And it was during rehearsal--so many magical moments happen in rehearsal!) For this and many other reasons, Bethlehem will always have a special place in my heart.

I took a break following Peanut's birth, and I am heading back in the fall. I'm looking forward to it. This was the longest break I've had from singing since . . . well, my sophomore year of high school. It was a good idea. Now I'm singing for fun here and there and enjoying some of Ben's and my favorite shoegazer indie rock. It's not just serious music that's important in my life . . . when we were just college kids, this handsome guy I'd recently landed as a voice student asked me to a Denison Witmer show. I couldn't make it, but he bought me a CD that would end up being the soundtrack to a goodbye I had long needed to say. A few months later, handsome man took me to a Denison Witmer show. About a year later, we were married. I could list all of the artists we love together, but that would be another ridiculously long post . . .  we sing and play Beatles and other such stuff together often, and he joins me in the church choir. It's been too long since we've been to a live show, but we share music any way we can. And my Peanut is a great dancer and a drummer in the making. He sings his heart out with me, and my heart swells again.

This somehow became my musical autobiography. Who knew! After a lifetime of music this is really the first time I've sat and reflected on it. If you've made it this far, thanks. I have always hoped my love for song has made the world a better place. I know that's true for me.

Check out the ladies from Together on Tuesday (links on the right) to see how music has shaped their worlds.