Solo, So Low

Hmmm, AC, you might as well embarrass yourself further by writing one more post dealing with your musical shortcomings. Well, why not? On the bucket list that I’ve been loosely following, there’s a question about whether I’ve ever sung a solo, so here goes.

The sad answer is, “Yes. I have sung a solo ... or attempted to.” And the result, along with my choir and fiddling experiences, seems to indicate that my music should be limited to being between my iPod and my ears. Voice and performance should not be attempted by AC – not in public at any rate.

Once upon a time, I was an emerging teenager and going to a very small charismatic church. They began to hold a young peoples meeting in a house. Since there weren’t many of us to call upon, I was asked to sing a solo one night. Well, I had no idea how to prepare a solo, such as work it out with the accompanist ahead of time. What the adults, including my parents, were thinking, I don’t know. Yes, I do; they didn’t know either. Anyway, the result was predictable, and I was never asked for a repeat performance. I sang When the Roll is Called up Yonder, and I’m sure that just about everyone was fervently agreeing in prayer: “Even so, come quickly, Lord.”

There was a later attempt, also involving church and young people, but it requires a little more explication.

These days, many kids want to play in a rock band, but back when I was a religious teenager and when gospel concerts (southern style) were all the rage in my circle (anybody remember All Night Sings?), it seemed that everyone wanted to sing in a gospel quartet. Because I had and have a pretty deep voice, I was asked to join a new quartet. We called ourselves The Royal Sons – great name, lousy group.

Without prattling endlessly about all of the details about the quartet’s trials and tribulations, let me skip to the end and reveal that in the fullness it fell upon Mr Bassman (who was found lacking “that certain something”) to sing a solo part. After much rehearsal, I seemed to have it down to passable standards in practice but, then I mysteriously struggled onstage on the three occasions in which I performed it publicly.

As I thought about it, I realized that when performing for an audience, I was struggling to reach the higher notes. When I mentioned to the self-proclaimed leader that I thought we needed to bring the key down a notch, he confessed that they moved the key up on me during performances because he, the lead singer, needed the notes to be higher for the refrain. Can you imagine the cheek of sabotaging the soloist in a piece? What unChristian-like gall!

So, you see, I have sung a few solos. And none of them worked out very well. I should have sung so low that nobody could have heard me.

Considering my recent confessions about choral singing, fiddling and now soloing, it really does seem I should limit my musical experiences to sticking the iPod in my ear, or at least the earphones attached to said device. The poor souls who have been forced to listen to my various attempts to make music, however, would no doubt prefer to shove the whole iPod … er … ahem ... blush ... yeah ... you know where.

Smudge Sings

(Mainly a video clip — mostly for family)

Way back in June I clip of Nikki Dee humming as she ate her lunch. At the time I reasoned that I should capture it before she stopped. Well, she hasn't stopped: still hums through her meals. When she stops humming, you can be pretty sure that she will soon stop eating. If it's early in the meal, you know that she doesn't prefer the dish of the day. However, that happens seldom; she's a pretty good eater. (Here's the whole blog, and just the clip is here if you want to see it.)

Apart from mealtimes, however, she does hum on occasion. Quite some time ago, she attempted to hum along with me as we danced while I also hummed the tune. She has continued to hum along every now and then although not frequently enough that we expect it.

Therefore, we were delighted when Daddy started to sing the Elmo song to her, and she made the attempt to join in. I think she did a pretty good job. And we were there with the camera.

A Time to Keep Silent

That made me laugh. It (A Time to Keep Silent) was the title of tonight's chapter in my nightly reading to Cuppa, for, at that very moment, I was despairing deeply over the sounds that I had been trying to make, sounds that hadn't come out well. You see, I had wanted to sing certain sounds tonight. I had practised them diligently, but I had totally flubbed my part during rehearsal. So, it was good to chuckle for a moment.

Is that just a tad cryptic? Well, here's the story.

I went to choir practice tonight for the third week in a row although the choir had been rehearing for a month prior to my arrival on the scene. They are starting a new community choir in this area, and a neighbour who overheard me vocalizing around the house (I do that a lot — hum, whistle or sing — almost without realizing it) asked me to join. When I hesitated and explained that I really have difficulty harmonizing, she asked me to try anyway and extracted my promise to try going to two practices before making up my mind.

So in the due course, I showed up for the first practice and was rather mortified to discover that I was the only guy there. Not being a reader of music, not for singing purposes anyway, I made myself sit and observe and maybe hum the occasional bar. But they sounded good, and I decided that I'd really like to be a part of the group.

So, I got hold of the music and tapes of the bass part. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to practise my part before the next (my second) rehearsal (last week). Nevertheless, I was aided by the fact that I wasn't the only guy. Indeed, I was able to sit beside a fellow who more or less knew the ropes. I followed him, sometimes behind the beat and sometimes badly, but there was reason for hope. So, this past week, I practised some more and thought that I was ready for tonight's rehearsal (my third). I was quickly disabused, however, because I was not, in point of fact, ready at all.

Unfortunately, I was the only guy again, but because I had practised on my own, I thought I'd be able to muddle through to some degree. However, I'm afraid I really, really floundered when it came down to it. You see, although I can pretty well sing the bass part when I'm by myself, it happens that as soon as the full music starts and everybody starts singing their parts, I get totally lost and seem unable to fathom what notes I am supposed to be singing. When surrounded by those other voices, I can't seem to hear my part in my head. Tonight, it was so bad that I really would rather have been almost anywhere else, but a grown man can't really run out, so I stuck it out ... and despaired of my plight during every agonizing moment.

I disappoint myself. I know that I don't have a solo quality voice, but I can sing. I mean to say that I can carry a tune. It's just that I can't seem to sing harmony when all of those other voices get going, especially if there's no one to help me along. I'd like to sing with this group, but I really need strong bass voices around me to lead the way. Do I go back one more time and hope that those other guys will show up, or do I just toss in the towel?

I hate to be a quitter, but maybe this is beyond me. I don't know why I find it so hard when it seems so easy to others, but I do, and it frustrates and disappoints me. I feel stupid. So, maybe, for me, it really is "A Time to Keep Silent." But it no longer makes me laugh.