A few more fall Bryanisms:

"Don't make eye contact with the staple."

"Men, can you be a little less open on your bottom."

To drummers: "I really like what you're doing there, especially your right hand."

The concert was highly successful; between ticket sales and the silent auction, we raised over $6000 for Maji Mazuri. There was an antique hunting spear in the auction that I really was fascinated by; unfortunately the bids started at $475, so there went my dream of the ideal baby toy...

Afterwards, we teamed up with justben (who sings with us), and radiantbaby and itarille (who were in the audience), and drove down to ahhhnahhh's place to catch the end of the pumpkin carving party. We were too late for pumpkins and not a few guests were turning into pumpkins just as we arrived, but we hung out with those remaining for an hour or so before heading home. I'm glad we were able to make it at all, with the concert!

"What does 'subito' mean to you? It means, oh, crap, we should have done that sooner!"

Bryanisms of the evening:

"Try not to make it sound like Handel on steroids, ok?"
EDIT: Now that I think about it, it was actuall "Handel on crack," which may even be funnier.

"I feel like a mad scientist about to blow something up--and I think I like it."

I never thought I'd say this, but I am burned out on choir. I felt this way last spring, but chalked it up to not having had the prior summer off, due to the tour. And truly, after having this past summer off, I was happy and ready to go back in the fall. But ye gods, I'd gotten so busy. And what with the nightmare concert weekend of driving back and forth to Kennesaw, I was all too happy to ditch the Christmas concert...and then when the winter season started, I just couldn't get myself into it again.

I can't remember when I last gave my whole heart to a piece of music, just fell in love and gave it everything I've got. I got close with the Brahms, but not until opening night, which is a long way to go without the love. There are only two pieces in this concert I really feel good about, and one of them is so difficult I worry about my ability to pull it off in less than two weeks.

I've decided to skip the spring concert--I've done that before, when it coincided with XPT in 2005--and then see how I feel in the fall when it all starts back up again. Maybe April to September will be enough of a rest. Or I might need a whole year. (It's not just a rest I need, either--I really want to devote more time to dancing. I can't learn to dance well with once a week lessons or social dancing. But that's a whole 'nother post.) The important thing is, choir will be there for me when I'm ready to go back.

Choir has been such a pillar of my life for so long--I've been with the Guild almost since I moved down here--that it seems like a major upheaval to consider leaving. But it's turned into a Monday night chore, and it's not right for me to sing without my heart in it. It's not fair to Bryan, to the rest of the choir--it's not fair to the music that deserves to be sung from a joyful soul.

Consider yourselves extras on “Hogan’s Heros” for this weekend.

Movement 1:

You feel happy knowing there are still eighth notes in the world.
You know what I mean, right? Good. Don't make me say that again, because I have no idea what I meant.
Don't squat on top of a whole note; it's not polite.
Neither you nor I would have thought of that; only Brahms is that smart.

Movement 2:

To my knowledge, this is the only funeral dirge written in waltz time.
It's like finding out there's a crack in Hoover Dam, and you're standing at the bottom of the dam.
That's just a greased slide to hell.
It shows all our shortcomings; so let's not be so short in our comings.
Vitamins, guys, blood transfusions, I don't care what it takes, legal or otherwise.
Everything else was so calm, and that one was off its meds there. So get it back in the bottle.
Head voice, chest voice, splat. It sounds like yodeling. Bad yodeling.
There can’t be any kind of seeping under the carpet with that.
You all obeyed the comma, but you did not love the comma. I want it to be a meaningful comma.

Movement 3:

It’s the metronome of the Grim Reaper: Death does scales.
I knew it was coming and I still kinda flinched.
I can see the horsehair coming off the bows, fragments flying!
In the Pentecostal church, I believe that’s knows as speaking in an unknown tongue.
It’s like you’re strapped onto something moving.
Fugues, right? Where voices come in one by one…and the audience leaves, two by two…
Don’t beat yourselves up, I’ll do that for you.
You all can be my whipping boy, doesn’t that sound like fun?
Make it obvious to even the most dull of our listeners that something is going on here.

Movement 4:

The hairpin is so much more fun if you sneak up on it.

Movement 5:

It heightens the dissonance that the sopranos are sort of scrubbing with.

Movement 6:

Sopranos, I want you to make a crescendo without getting any louder. You can use any part of your bodies you wish. Men, cast your eyes away.
You were standing right in the middle of the track—where else would the train be?
There’s somebody in the alto section who’s harmonizing with Death, and it’s not becoming; Death likes to sing in unison.
Your kill ratio is really good!

The miracle happened last night.

About this point in any choir season--about four rehearsals in--the music lifts off the page and starts sounding like music. It's like this every season: slog, slog, slog...miracle!

And yes, after all my whining about stress and busy-ness and such, I was actually alert and singing well last night. It was nice to be awake for the miracle.

"There's an alto somewhere who's harmonizing with Death, and it's not becoming. Death likes to sing in unison."

Tonight's Bryanism:

"Sopranos, I want you to crescendo without getting louder. You may use any part of your bodies you wish. Men, cast your eyes away."

Oh, and last week I got the ultimate alto rush. There's a ledger-line F in one of the Brahms movements. That's F-below-middle-C, i.e., very very low, but not the bottom of my range, which means I can grab that note and wrassle it to the bar line and make it beg sweetly for mercy. And the tenor next to me muttered, "day-um." Heh. Yeah.

"This just shows off all of our shortcomings...so let's not be so short in our comings."

Welcome to our new tenor, justben!

We're doing Brahms' Requiem this fall. Concerts are Saturday evening, 11/18, and Sunday afternoon, 11/19.

Wow, Bryan was really on this season:

Mozart's Coronation Mass

It's nice to know you have 5th gear if you need it.
Don't set off a bomb when you come in.
When the amens get there, it's just another moment. Don't give the farm away.
Don't just bark through that.
It feels like we're being sucked down by some kind of evil darkness.
What happens in rehearsal stays in rehearsal.
This is: "I ride a Harley, I wear leather."
These are people with iron undergarments.
Be stingy until you get to the P.
Match pitch is for trained seals; match vowel, match tone, match vibrato.
Let the tree fall in the forest, and wonder if it's in C Major.
Tie 'em to the railroad tracks. Here comes the train! Run for your life!
It's like a posthole going into the ground, nails in a coffin.
Do not sing in that measure; we're paying the orchestra a lot of money to play that measure.
You're the cayenne pepper.
You can't vibrate if you're going to the gallows.
It's not molto blasto.
That's just juicy, sopranos.
By the time we get there, they'll be begging for mercy.
At letter D--I have double D actually.
It's just after the slurpy eighth note stuff.
See? It's like a sandwich. Once you've got one slice of bread, the other slice is from the same loaf.
Those were really dark brains on the left side there.
Boy, when they say senza ritardando there, you're all taking me seriously!

Matins for the Virgin of Guadalupe

This is for the caveman in your life. Hey, I wanna pound rocks with you. All right, let's pound rocks together.
The altos are going to die in this one--for all the right reasons.
It's like you're waiting for a bus to come by.
Don't just hold the note like, "here, hold this for a while." Put it to your bosom.

"Don't sing in that measure! We are paying the orchestra a lot of money to play that measure!"

Bryanism for the evening: "It sounds like you bought a bad camel with a bum left wheel, and you're stuck in second gear." Also, "Are you the four percussionists of the Apocalypse?"

Yes, I'm still coughing, but I'd be damned if I'd miss recording tonight. Not that anyone could tell, listening to the CD, hey, they're down one alto! But I'd have known. I managed to avoid coughing fits during any actual recording, and I was in reasonably good voice, all things considered. I got through all the pieces well enough, once I'd warmed up. And 23 takes later, we have half a CD. (The other half we recorded last year, and damn if I wasn't sick for that one, too. That's it, I've done it twice, it's a tradition now. Damn.)

We sang three pieces in a mixed formation, and singing without the usual crutch of a half dozen other altos around me was--fine. Not scary at all. Huh. In my college choir days, the words, "Let's mix up and sing in quartets!" struck abject fear into my little choral heart. Everyone else greeted it with enthusiasm, and I was the only one in the choir going, "Oh, no, please no, this is going to suck!" But after three years of Bryan's tutelage, it's not a problem. Bring it on. Mix me up, baby.

Unfortunately, I seem to have lost my middle C. Or at least, my pianissimo middle C. I was fine in louder songs where I could belt a little, but softly, on a closed vowel, in the final chord of a chant piece? Forget it. The D preceding it was fine, but the C--nothing. Breath support notwithstanding--my diaphragm was firm as steel, and nada. So I just pursed my lips--look at me, I'm singing, really I am!--and left it alone. Silent is kind of like pianissimo, right?

Last night's concert went very well. It's sure fun to have an easy enough concert that we can goof around a bit. The audience especially liked the part where one of the altos in the top row started waving her lighter during the last measures of "Bohemian Rhapsody."

In addition to the music, this event offers a buffet of homemade goodies courtesy of the Dekalb Caterers' Guild...if the singing doesn't work out, we always have the cooking to fall back on. For the first year, I didn't just bring a store bought cake. Instead, I spent, literally, all day cooking. The mini muffins and the gingerbread didn't go over so well; we took lots and lots home (especially since I did double batches of both!). But the Ginger-Shrimp and Snap Pea Salad got a lot of love.

Bryan told the audience mid-concert that the traditional phrase is "From the ridiculous to the sublime." But, he explained, we would reverse it that night. "We're finished with the sublime, and we now present the ridiculous."

( Valentine Bryanisms )

They're sparse this time around. We only had 5 rehearsals, and I missed one to work overtime, and I didn't have a pencil during another!

"Sweet Noel"
It's just like the SAT--go with your first answer.

"A Musicological Journey Through the 12 Days of Christmas"
That was so good...and it's so silly.
To audience: If you wish to giggle or twitter, that's ok.

"Estampie Natalis"
14 minutes of intense pleasure.
It sounds like you're driving it into the car wash for the first time.
Let's all pretend we've had a jangle.

"The First Noel"
"Putting that carol in front of sopranos is like giving whiskey to an alcoholic."

I didn't have a pencil last night, so many many fine Bryanisms went in one ear and out the other. But here's one I specifically hung onto:

Re: "The First Noel,"

"Putting that carol in front of sopranos is like giving whiskey to an alcoholic."

First, some Bryanisms:

"I assume you always carry a pencil; it's good choral hygiene."
"You're on stage, and your leading man is named...Four!"

We're singing a piece called "A Musicological Journey Through the 12 Days of Christmas." I've decided I need to take a good music history class, bc I'm sure this is a lot funnier if you know the composers and styles being spoofed. I mean, the Strauss waltz is obvious, as is the Gregorian chant, the Cohen march, and the "Ride of the Valkyries." But some of them are a bit more obscure, and I hate to miss out on any clearly hi-brow humor for the over-educated. Just need to over-educate myself a bit more.

It was a very short rehearsal cycle, and I missed one when I was sick, so there aren't as many as usual.

Laudate Jehovam:
It sounds like you crossed a dark room and caught your toe on the coffee table.
Measure 93-101: The Revenge of the Altos
Altos, it was heaven. Stay that way for the rest of your lives.
You must be beautiful but you must be on time.

Salmo 150:
The parts that are impossible you’re doing quite well. It’s the parts that require a little work…
If an organ major could sound that good in here, think what you could do.
That will just go bouncing around like atoms in a nuclear reactor.

Kein Schoner Land:
Measure 58: It would just be easier on me if you would just not open your mouths there.

This Little Light of Mine:
Measure 98: Just confidence, not an explosion.

Ezekial Saw de Wheel:
Don’t confuse responsiveness with running away with it.

Gloria (MLK Mass):
Suddenly you’re singing a song with a very heavy hoe in your hand.
Measure 47: I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to do that yet—and when I am, I doubt I’ll be that calm about it. (ED: The lyrics here are "I have laid my body down.")
Was that a question, or just desperation?

Dona Nobis (MLK Mass):
It sounds like you're dragging something under a car.
Measure 22: Deep, dark, royal blue velvet.
Measure 35: You don’t do it in a cheap way, and that’s what makes it art.

Tonight we got to meet the man behind it all...Bryan's grad school advisor. He gave us a treat by letting us see him critique Bryan's conducting. Then he lined us all up by section and "tuned" us like a piano, grouping similar voices until he had the ideal blend. Pictures were taken so we could remember the order, and I'm betting by next week we'll have a seating chart.

Some Bryanisms:

"It sounds like you're dragging something under a car."
"It sounds like you crossed a dark room and caught your toe on the coffee table."

We're singing at the monastery in Conyers again, on November 6. Interested parties contact me for ticket information. We're doing the MLK mass again!

Bryanism from last week: "Men, you had it for the first two, but then my stick got the better of you."

Bryanism for the evening: "The men have been practicing their innocence, haven't they?"

We're singing an arrangement of some of William Blake's "Songs of Innocence." There are a lot of sheep and lambs and happy, pastoral shepherds. Despite the prevalence of ovis aries in the 18th century, I remain convinced that these words were written by a man who had never actually seen a sheep. Or smelled one. Or heard a full-grown ram protesting being wrangled into a van to be taken for shearing. Sheep do not say "baaaaa." They make a sound more like an old man belching. Lambs can be kind of cute, at least until you step in their end-product, which is just like that of a full-grown sheep, but smaller. And not in the least cute.

All those sheep and lambs, of course, are heavy with Christian symbolism, particularly in "The Lamb," where a child compares both himself and a lamb to Christ.

He is meek, and he is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb.
We are called by his name.

Does this strike anyone else as a slightly sinister comparison? After all, the reason Christ is the Lamb of God is that he replaces the traditional sacrifice. How much good fortune can there be for the hapless child and lamb, to be just like Christ?

Oh, yeah, we had a concert last night. I just haven't been able to drum up any enthusiasm for this season's music. I'm just glad it's over and we can move onto something else. Oh, some of it was fun, but mainly it was a lot of oooh-y, ahhh-y folk music. Being the backup band for the melody can get old.

We did enjoy the visit from the local Scottish dance group. They have lessons on Thursday nights not too far from where I work, so we might check them out one week.

( More Bryanisms )

You know how instruments go out of tune in damp weather? Drum heads and strings loosen, wood swells, reeds squeak, etc.? This week's fog seems to have had a similar effect on the choir. We were flatter than Kansas last night, and tempos were all over the place. Poor Bryan was ready to tear his hair out, wondering where his normally well-behaved choir had gone.

It doesn't help that some of the music is not terribly inspiring to sing. The problem with arranging folk music for choirs is that the easiest thing to do is to give one section the melody with the lyrics, and write oohs and ahhs for everyone else. As Bryan says, "My biggest fear, when we are singing nothing is that we are also thinking nothing, and therefore we are doing nothing."