I was back. The setting was familiar. The stage was empty, void of the usual props the drama class normally left out at this time of year. Even the risers were already put away. No matter. It was dark. The only light came from the lamp atop the old, yellowed piano where I sat. I plunked out a note, letting the pitch echo in the large auditorium. Then I turned and mounted the uneven steps up onto the stage. My hands took on a familiar cool, my body's way of acting nervous on stage despite the fact that there was no one around but myself. Everyone had already gone out to talk about another well done performance. I'd join them later. I closed my eyes. I took in a deep breath. I opened my mouth.
"Midnight..."
Auditions. I handed Jon the music we'd rehearsed to only a couple of times before. This was it. He gave me a smile for luck, both for me and for himself. He could never play my music correctly. I smiled in return and mounted those familiar steps to the stage. I projected my voice as I'd been doing the past three years, introducing myself and the work I was about to sing, Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Memory". Two pairs of eyes stared right back at me but I avoided their glance.
I sang.
God, did I sing. My voice as at its peak that day. Every note rant true and I let myself go. I could feel Jon relax as well, improvising in the parts he didn't know but nevertheless playing the right melody. It was almost magical, those three minutes, and I could barely keep the smile off my face as I retrieved my music and skipped out the door. What a difference between that year and the year before...
"Aldonza..."
I cringed even now upon remembering that audition for Man of la Mancha. I remembered how I'd convinced myself that because I was in the advanced choir and one of the judges was my choir director, I thought everything was to my advantage. I knew the song. I could sing well. She already knew my range...
I blew it off. I didn't put any emotion into my singing. I stood there uncaring, unmoving... Needless to say, I was (one of the few who were) cut. I remember receiving the news right before my bio class. I should have been paying attention but instead, those forty-five minutes' worth of lecture were spent sniffling and trying to hold back my tears. I don't think I bothered singing my best that day in rehearsal.
"Follow that star..."
I smiled again. Junior high was where I'd learned from my teacher that I had the potential for singing. My friends always asked me to demonstrate difficult spots in the music for our school plays. The choral director even went so far as to ask my opinion on a few harmonies. But then there was the transition into singing in a "real" group in high school...
"Every now and then, we find a special friend..."
I'd chosen that song as a tribute to my junior high days. Casper's "Remember Me This Way" was our graduation song...
But I was so terrified the day of our first solo... Our first real grade. Thankfully, I didn't completely choke. I didn't stumble with my introduction, I knew all the words... There was only a small problem between the accompanist and myself but that was only because we hadn't practiced together before; she followed me well in the end. My voice didn't crack although I was terrified of singing out then. No, singing wasn't the problem. It was relating with my audience. I spent those entire three minutes singing to the feet of the people in the front row. Sure, I'd glanced up once in awhile to find my peers smiling at me encouragingly but I was too scared to keep my head up. That had all changed by spring however...
"Don't lose your way with each passing day. You've come so far, don't throw it away..."
I smiled. I sang. I smiled some more... My confidence had built up in that short time span of four months. I knew how to sing emotions into Diana Ross's "If We Hold On Together" because every word of that song was testament to my maturing into being a vocal artist. I strove for the best after that horrific first solo attempt and I got what I wanted. There was only one way to go and that was up.
"Come raggio di sol..."
My first real solo at a real event came March of the following year. I stood there, being judged by a vocal instructor up at CSUH. Yes, I was terrified, but I figured that such an event could only help me out in the end. Imagine my surprise when the judge awarded me with a superior. I was floating on air the rest of that day. Two months of hard work had certainly paid off.
"I love coffee, I love tea, I love java and it loves me..."
That was one of two jazz pieces we entered at that year's CMEA Jazz Festival. For sure, that was an experience to never forget. My first introduction to singing jazz... Despite how difficult it was for me to adjust in the beginning, I grew to love this style of singing. This started my love and my respect for such acapella groups like The Manhattan Transfer. Singing jazz became a tradition for us, continuing with "Snowfall" the next year, followed by "Mood Indigo," "Beyond The Sea", and "Don't Mean A Thing" my senior year.
Back to sophomore year. At that year's final concert, I sang two duets, "When I Fall In Love" from Sleepless In Seattle and Celine Dion's and Barbra Streisand's "Tell Him". The former didn't turn out to be the best. My partner still wasn't comfortable with improvising as I was but that was expected so I put most of my effort into "Tell Him" for two reasons. First off, it was a great song to sing in general and I loved my duet partner. She was a great person to be around with a great personality and a lot going for her. The second reason... Well, if you take a look at the lyrics, you'd understand what I was feeling. Yes, I had the most terrible crush that year on one of my classmates and this was my way of getting it out. Funny, I don't know if he ever found out but I have a feeling he has. Oh well. He knows who he is and though our paths have long since separated, I hope he knows how much I thank him for the friendship we shared and that I'm truly sorry for what I've done...
That wasn't the only song that took double meaning for me in my high school singing career. It was the following year, junior year, when Shania Twain's "From This Moment On" came out. What started out as just a tune to sing along with on the radio came to be so much more. On a small scale, I began to sing this song daily with one of my friends. Much of the free time we had during rehearsals for the musical we'd gotten into was spent singing. We sang anything from the songs from Pippin, the musical we were in (of course), the Backstreet Boys (those teenybopper days...), and anything else that came out on the radio. It was a great time for pop music, what with Monica's "Angel" and NSync's "God Must Have Spent A Little More Time On You". We were caught singing nonstop for hours on end sometimes. However, I digress. "From This Moment On" was also a very special song for me because it was the theme of the relationship I had with my first boyfriend.
What can I say? I loved him then. Everything we shared was special. He supported me and my passion for music. He was one reason why I began playing the piano again in earnest after about a year's break. He was the focal point for my solo at the solo festival up at CSUH that year when I sang "O del mio dolce ardor". It was unfortunate that he was unable to see me earn my Superior: Command Performance for that but he knows that I gave him much credit for it anyway. He was one of the people who believed I could stick through that year's musical, despite the fact that my voice decided it had had enough singing, giving out during the last week of our musical. I shared with him my love of musicals, everything ranging from Rent to Les Miserables to The Phantom of the Opera.
The beginning of senior year, I practically swore off all music. I had to. It took me awhile to realize how much music was and is a part of my life. By sharing it all with him, I'd given away my identity and it took a long time before I could once again enjoy music for what it was and not let it be tainted with thoughts of how simple melodies had affected us before. I sang in the choir again, but it became routine for me in a lot of ways. This year's choir was never going to be able to become the family I was used to in the previous three years. We were too divided amongst ourselves. It was no longer enjoyable. There was even more strain for me to assume an active role as a choir leader, under only our teacher and our accompanist. But I couldn't sing. My voice was still shot from having to work so hard the previous school year. I was growing increasingly frustrated with myself. So I decided to join CSUH's Oratorio Society for a quarter and see if that could help me out.
It did.
I found myself enjoying singing again, even if it was only for two hours, once a week. The difficulty of our piece, the adult atmosphere, the unsaid expectations... It was everything my high school group was not. I belonged again. It is a regret I didn't stick with it the rest of the year, but that quarter's worth of singing was definitely one push I needed to get back on my feet again.
"Laudamus te..."
The corners of my mouth crept up into a smile. My how my duet partner and I stressed over this movement from Vivaldi's Gloria. Not to mention how our accompanist Jesse stressed. Talk about nerves... Oh well. It wasn't his fault he was nervous and the piece we'd chosen was a mess of notes to play. Luckily for myself, I'd just gotten done with my solo, "Solvejg's Lied". It certainly hadn't been my best considering I was battling a cold that day, but it felt good nevertheless. I needed that boast of energy to keep from totally going hysterical. I needed to calm down my partner and our accompanist... But I could only do so much. Needless to say, Jesse sped up throughout the song and it became our chore to keep up with him instead of the other way around. Looking back, I can laugh at what a sight that must have been. We must have looked so scared...
Then again, that wasn't the only thing driving me during that performance. The presence of a couple key people also gave me the energy I needed to do my best after that somewhat disappointing solo I had. I found my outlet and sang what emotion I could muster out. It didn't matter that I wasn't speaking to one of them. The anger and dark feelings I was experiencing was definitely what I needed for that song. Sure, I transformed that energy into something more positive to match the light, airy feeling of the piece, but it was still the thing I needed most right at that moment.
"Evergreen..."
I gave a sad smile. I choked on that last note but no one knew it but myself and Jon, who once again, was accompanying for me. So much had happened in the past four years both on this stage and off. I'd wanted to go out with a blast. I'd been planning on doing something from Phantom ever since I stepped into choir freshman year, most likely "Think of Me", but there was little time to prepare. Everything was coming to a close so quickly... "Evergreen" was a last ditch effort. I wanted to do a solo but didn't want to put too much time into learning something in two weeks. In many ways, it was my tribute to the choir which had done so much for me. It had forced me to grow up quickly, making me realize that just because some may have the talent, it just doesn't cut it when there is favoritism being played. I'd come to appreciate my talent deeply and to not take it for granted.
I learned of my responsibility to the group and to always push for even more. Such was the way with our trio's "Till There Was You" and Guys And Dolls' "More I Cannot Wish You". Although it'd been my wish to do the latter for our last concert, we just ran out of time and had to sing the simpler melody from The Music Man. Expectations can't always be met. I certainly learned my lesson about that. But sometimes, expectations could be surpassed. I'd also realized that I was wrong about my earlier notion of the group. We actually did become a sort of family that year. It certainly wasn't the family that would have been able to talk and be a group together like the years before, but we did grow up a lot my last year of concert choir, and so, I helped out as best I could to bring out the best in my fellow choir singers. It was the least I could do.
"Meine Seele verlanget unt sehnet... Mein Leib unt Seele freuen..."
Two long years and my voice finally developed to something close to what it was in junior year. It was a lot of work, but I thought it was worth it. Yes, I was happy for I'd finally found (complete) joy in my singing once more. Two hour rehearsals twice a week... It's a wonderful workout. And to sing under such accomplished performers like Mr. Thomas or Mr. Holoman is truly rewarding in itself. I guess something I'd learned was to find a director who enjoyed singing and performing as much as I did. Finally! Directors who made singing fun for the entire rehearsal process!
"Help me say good-bye..."
I let that last note waver in the air, allowing myself time to come out of my trance. That was how it was supposed to end. The perfect song. I could now leave it all behind. I took in a couple of breaths to calm myself down. Then I opened my eyes. I stood there a moment longer to regain complete awareness of my surroundings. Carefully, I went down the steps and turned off the lamp. I let myself out of the auditorium.