A New Blog in the 'Sphere

There's a new blogger in the Youngstown/Mahoning Valley Blogosphere. His name is Boston, and he's eight years old. The apple has fallen right under the tree, and it's not a rotten apple!

He's been showing lots of interest lately in writing. How fun that he's taken that interest into cyberspace.

The Love of Music

As I sat in rehearsal tonight, singing some beloved Christmas songs, including old favorites in lush new arrangements, I noticed something amazing. Every moment I wasn't singing, I was smiling. (Note that I didn't say I was smiling while I was singing. That's not such a good idea.)

I truly love singing with this chorus. I love it with every fiber of my being.

Work is particularly challenging right now, with a new release of our software slated to be released momentarily. There's tremendous pressure being placed on my colleague and me to get it done, get it done right, and get it done right now. There are very few moments throughout the day when I feel like smiling. And my drive is long and hard. I dread leaving the house every morning.

But I don't mind the drive to Cleveland before rehearsals. And I don't mind the three hours spent sitting in an uncomfortable chair. And I don't mind the drive home from 10:00 to 11:15, or later.

When I sit in that rehearsal hall, amid likeminded singers, accompanied by incredibly talented pianists, and led by a sensitive conductor, I am happy*happy*happy.

For those three hours of my life, all is right in my world.

MusicMonday Phrase of the Day

This is Monday, it's 11:15 p.m., and I've just arrived home after another Cleveland Orchestra Chorus rehearsal. Tonight you're to be gifted with another Pithy Porco Phrase.

The cast of the chorus Holiday concert rehearsals is large and assorted. We perform nine Holiday concerts (and two Messiahs), so the administration pulls together vast numbers of singers, in hopes that enough can survive the stress and typical sicknesses of the season to have a full chorus for every performance. In our Monday night rehearsals you will find the normal COChorus, plus those members of the summer Blossom Festival Chorus who want to sing with us, plus the CO Youth Chorus and the Cleveland State University Chorus.

That's a whole lot of bodies in one rehearsal hall. And yet when we sing, it sounds like only four voices. The blend, the togetherness, the synergy—it's truly awesome.

But the downside is that the choruses other than COC aren't used to singing with Maestro Porco. They're not in the habit of practicing the discipline we practice. Well, some are, and some aren't. But it must be frustrating to Maestro Porco to have to repeatedly request quiet so his requests and instructions can be heard.

Tonight, in a moment of frustration, he said, "Let's hear what silence sounds like." If I hadn't been trying so hard to be quiet, I would have laughed out loud. It struck me as the most perfect phrase, a phrase which could be translated, "Hush!"

The silence was wonderful. And I learned a new phrase I can and will use on my grandchildren!

All Notes Are Not Created Equal

If you've read more than, oh, five posts in this log, you are aware that I love making music. I passionately love making music.

I began playing piano by ear at three-and-a-half. I started accordion lessons at four, piano and theory at five, organ at seven, and auditioned for the church choir at eight. During the audition, the choir director discovered my perfect pitch. I consider myself a musician first and foremost, and piano is my primary instrument. Choral singing would be my second instrument, if choral singing can be defined as an instrument.

I don't love all genres of music, but I respect talent and perseverance. And once I am exposed to and begin learning a choral work, I am in love with it by the time we stand on stage behind the orchestra to perform the work.

As I'm learning, I love observing the director to see what inspired phrases he or she is going to use to make a point or teach a lesson in a manner that we will retain the information at least through performance, if not forever. Many singers will grab that inspired phrase out of the air and write it in their music. In fact, over fifteen years ago some singers in The Washington Chorus memorialized Robert Shafer's inspired phrases in "The Book of Bob". When he moved to City Choir of Washington two years ago, some singers were searching for a Book of Bob to again be able to quote those phrases.

Cleveland Orchestra Chorus has a total of four rehearsals with Maestro Porco to be able to learn all our holiday concert music. Some of the music is tried and true; some requires a lot of practice to get the notes down. We are charged with doing all that practice on our own, in order that rehearsals will go swiftly and smoothly.

Many singers sing the notes and the words without speaking them first, without stopping to think about the vocal inflection of that spoken phrase. Think about how you would speak "What sweeter music can we bring?", as opposed to singing "what sweet-er mus-ic can we bring", concentrating on making sure each note was held for its proper duration, at the notated volume. The tendency is to make the two syllables of sweet-er equal, to remove the natural inflection that comes when speaking "sweeter", accenting the first syllable. Portions of last Monday night's rehearsal were spent just speaking the words to pieces we were rehearsing, trying to hear what the natural speech patterns were. Our goal? To enable the audience to understand clearly every word we sing.

The inspired phrase that Maestro Porco used to help us remember? "All notes are not created equal." I grabbed that and wrote it in my music. Then our rehearsal notes arrived by e-mail this morning and, again, I saw "All notes are not created equal."

I must remember to speak it and hear it before turning it into music.

Everybody Needs a Buddy

There's something about cats and sewing rooms. The cat tends to get onto the sewing table and interfere as much as possible in the sewist's creative process. I found this great basket on Etsy and it seems to have directed Angel away from the table. Rudi was wayyy too big to curl up in it, but Angel has found his new go-to place.

Sing A Song of Christmas

Tonight was the first chorus rehearsal for the Cleveland Orchestra's holiday concerts. There were approximately 230 singers (comprised of members of the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, Blossom Festival Chorus, and Cleveland Youth Orchestra Youth Chorus) at the rehearsal, plus conductor, assistant conductor, accompanist, and chorus manager. As one of the taller singers, I usually am seated on the back row. Tonight that was the 7th row! It's a long way across seven rows and through a line of bobbing heads to see the conductor's gesture!

The chorus members always receive our music prior to the first rehearsal, and are expected to have the music prepared and be ready to sing at rehearsal number one. There is never to be any sight-reading or fluffing of notes. Due to the sheer volume of music (ten or so songs times 233 singers for holiday concert, plus 65 singers for Messiah), some of us did not get our music ahead of time. Therefore, tonight's rehearsal did not proceed as smoothly as Maestro Porco would have preferred.

We only have four rehearsals to prepare this music before the first concert. If you count the number of pages in the songs we're singing and multiply it by the average number of black dots per page, that's a lot of ink we've got to sing in nine more hours of rehearsal.

Maestro Porco was troubled tonight as he looked around the chorus and noticed some people listening rather than singing, trying to get the music.

The quotable quote for tonight? "Rote learning is for the Peace Corps" (i.e. not for a top symphonic chorus). Translation: In the Peace Corps, you're trying to communicate with natives struggling with a foreign language and foreign concepts. You're an accomplished musician. Learn your music on your own before you walk through these rehearsal doors.

In a phrase? Be responsible!

Rules, Rules and Nothing But Rules

(With apologies to Bernadette Peters and "Greens, Greens and Nothing but Greens" from "Into the Woods".)

I've been wanting to write about this all week, but I'm exhausted. The past two nights I've been asleep by 9:00 p.m. This full-time g'parenting is just exhausting. And please note that that statement is not a complaint—it is merely a statement of fact. I was able to pull this full-time duty when I was in my 20s and 30s. But, People, I'll be 60 in seven months, and this is hard damned work.)

The babes attend the local Montessori school. The administration there is very conscientious about the environment and healthful nutrition and the like. But, for my taste, they're a little too conscientious.

I've been having to pack the babes' lunch every day. The first day I tucked in some Hallowe'en fruit snacks that were left over from Saturday night. When Ridley got home, she told me, "That's fake fruit. You can't send that again."

Fake fruit? FAKE FRUIT?! The babes' mother does not purchase food that is not nutritious. She doesn't purchase fake food.

And, by the way, I know from fake fruit. My mother kept a bowl of wooden fruit that was brought as a gift from Honduras by a family friend. That's fake fruit.

And to remotely and figuratively slap my hand because I sent a decent snack that you deemed inappropriate. Do we maybe need to be a little less intense about some things?

Okay, I know you have precedents you have to uphold. And I'm just an agent of my grandchildren's parents. So I'll try harder next time.

But I reallllly don't like people telling me what to do. And I don't like the thought that you have deemed a perfectly decent snack to be "fake fruit."

Whatever!

Makin' Up Stories

Instead of reading stories before bed, the babes and I frequently make up stories. One person will start, pausing where someone else is to add a word or take over the story line.

Last night I started a story about a boy with four cats and a dog. Ridley named the boy's father "Jim", and Boston named his mother "Rosa". The boy became "Sam", and the cats were "Sally", "Willie", "Sarah", and "Wally". Then I asked Ridley what breed of dog Sam had. She said, "a Chocolate Puff." Hmm, that's not a breed with which I'm familiar.

I asked her what a Chocolate Puff was. She said, "You know. A Chocolate Puff. Like Guide."

That would be a Chocolate Lab to the rest of us. The photo above? Guide, at nine weeks, when he moved in next door.

Jaci's Live Blog

Jaci, with the help of cameraman Tyler, is live-blogging from New Orleans. Her posts are must-see Internet. If you have never met Jaci, a single viewing of these videos will explain to you why everyone who knows her falls in love with her. Her personality just glows through these videos.

Go. Read. And keep checking back for more as the week progresses.

Day 1
Day 2

Did You Vote?

How nice that my life thsi week is including quiet post-8:30am mornings into which I can slip a conversation with an old friend or a pastry at Panera. Or voting without stress.

If you're a Mahoning County reader, please vote to keep the light on at our libraries.

Go vote—it's your right, your privilege, your obligation.