Via Sequencia

Ode to Il Supremo

Some years ago—not quite sure how many exactly—a young singer who was desperately trying to find his voice ("Am I a tenor? Am I a countertenor?") breezed into the lives of Incontesta and me. This wonderfully effervescent and flamboyant young man instantly intrigued me and very soon after won my heart. He is known by many names—Il Supremo, Prophet Gregorius, Sr. Mary Magnifique, Manprano, et cetera, but his mama gave him the name Gregory. This is my humble attempt to honor one of my favorite collaborative musicians, one of the most fabulous gayboys walking the earth, and one of my very best friends.

This very obviously brilliant—just ask him—musician started studying with Incontesta, and within a few months became quite aware that he was indeed a countertenor; as a matter of fact, he was a soprano countertenor. It was one of the most beautiful voices I'd heard, and I couldn't wait for him to finally "get it" and really come into himself vocally.

Over the next couple of years, I had the privilege of playing for him in lessons and enjoying his progress. It's such a gift to have the opportunity to witness an intuitive musician with more ambition than anyone I know work so well with such a great teacher as is my dearly beloved husband. When they worked together, sparks flew. I was witnessing history.

In 2004, when Incontesta took over as choir director and I as organist at our suburban parish, we brought Gregory on as a section leader. The choir didn't know what had hit 'em, but Incontesta and I sure did. Not only did we have our section leader, but also a resident composer, a substitute director for when we were both away, and an ambassador—or was it a mascot—of bitchiness and hilarity. (I endlessly tease him as I am doing here, but I assure you it is only out of great respect and love for the dear boy.)

It has been my great delight to watch him work toward his newly earned Master of Music degree. And in these past few years, I have had the great happiness to collaborate with Gregory on three recital projects. We had the greatest fun making wonderful music together. Next to my husband, I've enjoyed collaborating with Gregory the most.

Why am I going on like this? Because our dear boy is about to leave us for his next life-adventure as the newest soprano with Chanticleer. I couldn't be happier for him than I am. But I couldn't be sadder for myself. Our boy is moving on toward greater things. I know he isn't really leaving us; he's simply expanding his world.

Glegoly, my dear, Mommy is so proud! I am going to miss having you in my life on a near daily basis. I am going to miss hearing you sing to my right as I play the organ. I am going to miss your infectious laugh. I am going to miss trying to read my music through tears as you and I perform things like Duruflé's "Pie Jesu." I am going to miss sitting with you and bitching about the mundane. I am going to miss kissing and hugging you at least twice a week. Thank you for your compositions that I've had the great honor to premiere. Thank you for all the many things you've done for me. Thank you for being my sister, my BPI therapist, my wedding attendant, my collaborator, and my friend. I wish you the greatest success as you embark on this exciting journey. I love you with all my heart.

Magical Moments Musical

For the past twelve summers, I've had BPI, that wonderful fortnight where dreams are made and musicians find rebirth in a new—or rather old—way of doing things. For me, the magic was in finding the fortepiano after years of frustration as a pianist; then, in subsequent summers, finding myself as a full-fledged harpsichordist and organist. In other words, I have BPI, along with its brilliant and encouraging faculty, to thank for my renaissance as a musician.

While every summer in Oberlin has its own special magic, there are isolated moments for all of us individually that are exceptionally memorable. Some of those moments for me, of course, have been my own personal successes in performing; but today I'm interested only in a handful of magical moments of which I was only an observer. These four experiences I will carry with me forever:

• Die schöne Mullerin. A few years ago, my dear friends and colleagues, Max van Egmond, baritone, and Penelope Crawford, fortepianist, collaborated on performances and a recording of Franz Schubert's song cycle Die schöne Mullerin. The BPI community that summer had the once-in-a-lifetime experience of hearing these two amazing musicians perform the cycle in an early afternoon recital. Making the experience even more memorable was Penny's Conrad Graf fortepiano (c. 1835), which she had brought with her that summer for the sole purpose of playing this recital with Max.
• Weinachts Oratorio. During another summer, one of BPI's Bach years, I had the privilege of hearing my beloved Incontesta sing "Schlafe, mein Liebster" from J.S. Bach's Christmas Oratorio on the faculty concert. It was hands down some of his most beautiful singing and a moment I will never forget. An added bonus was that I was sitting with our dear Florence, who held my hand as we both cried through the entire aria.
• C.P.E. Bach Cello Concerto. Within the last couple of years, Catharina Meints wowed us all with a spectacular performance on another faculty concert with C.P.E. Bach's Concerto for Cello, Strings and Basso Continuo. Cathy's playing has always impressed me, but on this particular day, her playing was transcendent.
• Goldberg Variations. Again, a number of years ago, Lisa Goode Crawford, harpsichordist, took us all to that otherworldly place with a performance of J.S. Bach's Goldberg Variations. That same summer, she recorded the work. Much to my delight, the recording was released this year.

Moments like these are rare. I can only imagine the other magical moments musical that have occurred during the 25 years of BPI before I started attending. Many of my friends there who have been at the institute for many of those previous 25 years have similar stories to tell, I'm sure.

This summer, however, I shared a moment with two dear friends, which must join my list above. All of the above moments were very public events. This one was much more private. At the end of a voice lesson that my friend Nancy Zylstra, soprano, was giving to Florence, I began playing Schubert's "Gretchen am Spinnrade." As I began playing, Nancy began singing. What's remarkable about this is that Nancy hasn't sung in years. She stopped singing before I really got to know her about 15 years ago. But Nancy's voice was legendary. It was a sad day for all when she stopped. Well, she and I performed the song for our audience of one, Florence. When we finished, Florence's hands were over her mouth and tears began to well up in my eyes . . . and then in Nancy's. Her singing was powerful, beautiful, and very moving. I always thought I would never get to hear her sing. That evening changed all that. Thank you, Nancy, for my latest (and one of my most memorable) BPI moments. Please keep singing! 

Poem for the First Day of Spring

Spring and sprung,
the grass is ris'.
I wonder where the boidies is.
The boidies? They is on the wing.
Oy, but that's obsoid!
Everyone knows the wing is on the boid!

  --Anonymous

In Memoriam

Mary Fran P.
Member Emeritus of the Soprano Section

Mary Fran, retired world-class soprano who was for decades the section leader of our 1st sopranos, died last night. She suffered from Alzheimer's and had been in declining health for some time. She was a great lady, and I am going to miss her very much. Those of us who were lucky enough to know her and work with her were indeed privileged to do so.

I would like to share with you now my most memorable personal moment with Mary Fran . . . .

We, Incontesta and I, have oft been interchangeable persons to people we know and love. I would even venture to say that on rare occasion, a family member might call me Incontesta and/or him, Sequencia. Needless to say, it gets old, and I have to wonder how the error can occur, as he has hair and I don't, he sings and I play, he is him and I am me. Anyway, it happens. We are also forced to endure the assumption that we're brothers from time to time. But back to my story.

On a Sunday morning of March 2003, I was looking forward in a few days to the milestone birthday called the "Big Four-O." I had always complained up to that point that Incontesta had never thrown me any sort of surprise party, and I assumed that he wouldn't this time, either, even though THIS was certainly the year to do it! Anyway...moving on. I was standing in the hallway of our church, vested in cassock and surplice, ready to begin my participation in the Eucharist that was about to commence.

I noticed Mary Fran, who had retired from singing in the choir a couple years earlier, was making her way over to me with a big smile on her face. She said, "I got the invitation and will definitely be there for the suprise! Thank you for inviting me."

Smiling back, I said, quite obliviously, "What invitation?"

The color draining from her face and her expression turning to a combination of embarrassment, frustration, and deep thought, as if to be thinking of some way to turn the clock back a minute or so, she shouted as only an 80-something diva could who has lost much of her hearing, "Damn! You're the wrong one!"

As she hurriedly turned and disappeared, I began to howl with glee! Not only did her "You're the wrong one!" crack me up, but Incontesta was throwing me a party! Yippee!

I had decided to chase after Mary Fran to tell her that if she didn't tell anyone that she'd told me, I certainly wouldn't. But as I chased after her, I saw her catch up with Incontesta and spill the beans. He was far more upset that the surprise had been spoiled than I was. As a matter of fact, today I'm extremely happy that I have this story to tell about our dear old Mary Fran.

May she rest in peace.

More from London

Today at 3 o'clock, I teach my piano master class. The youngest of my students is 9, and the oldest is 14. I'm imagining what the repertoire will be. Hot Cross Buns? Go Tell Aunt Rhody? Liszt's Années de Pèlerinage? Beethoven's Hammerklavier Sonata? Apparently, the 14-year-old is quite advanced.

I'm sitting here trying to think of all the tricks my teachers used with me when I was that young to get me to relax, to think outside the box, to want to practice. I wonder how many of them I'll be able to pull out of my dusty old memory to use today. How do you teach a 10-year-old in a master class? Oy!

Yesterday's voice coachings and master class were fun. Incontesta worked his magic with three beginning students, all in early days of study (2 months to 1 year). Then tomorrow is the big day: an all-day (6 hour) voice master class with 10 students, ending with a full class recital of all the pieces studied in the class.

But back to today for a moment. After the music is over and done this evening, we are taking our hosts out for a lovely dinner at Le Bistro, a wonderful French restaurant here in their little area of London that Incontesta and I fell in love with last time we were here. I've been looking forward to it all week!

The picture I've included here was taken on Tuesday, our first full day here in London. We'd just taken our flight on the London Eye and were on our way back over the Thames toward Westminster Abbey, where we spent the next three hours. It was by far the worst weather we've had all week. But it was quintessential London, I suppose. Perfect for Mumsie's first day. I like this picture because the smile on Mum's face tells the whole story. She has had the perfect time! And she even said that the weather was perfect, since it seemed so London to her. In the background, of course, is Big Ben, the one landmark that has always been London in her mind. She has had a fascination with the old boy since she was a little girl.

Mum, here's to you and your first trip away from North America! Hope you remember it fondly.

And now we work

First, let me tell you that this trip with my beloved partner and my dear old mum couldn't be going more swimmingly (touch wood, as they say). All the walking that we had to do over the past four days, what with airport terminal lengths, going to and from trains and buses to tourist attractions, and shopping for hours, Mumsie has been put through it (so have I with my damned leg, but never mind). Not once as I've glanced over at Mum has she had a scowl on her face. It's always a smile. I really do believe that she's having the time of her life, which was our goal. I doubt she will ever make a trip like this on her own or take the initiative to arrange one for herself and a friend, for instance. So this holiday to the UK had to happen! And so it is.

As of today, we've passed half-way point. We are basically finished with the touristy things we had planned: the London Eye, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Covent Garden, Buckingham Palace, the Victoria and Albert Museum, Harrods, the Tower of London, etc. I think that's enough for three days, don't you? To be honest, I'm exhausted!

Fortunately, for my aching thigh and calf, today begins the working part of the vacation. For the next three days, I'll be accompanying voice master classes, instructing students in vocal coachings in preparation for those classes, and teaching a piano master class of my very own! Also, there are recitals to sit through and play for after each of these classes. One very nice side effect from all of this is cash. Each of these coachings and master class sessions earns us a few pounds to minimize the damage done by an exchange rate of about $2.10 per £1.

So, dear readers, I'm off to coach and be a musician rather than a tourist. Mumsie'll be watching, so I hope I make her proud.

Cheers!

Rip Van Sequencia awakes from a 2-month nap

All-a-y'all's yelling finally woke me up. It's sure nice to see that at least a handful of you miss my posts!

Here's a little list of highlights of the past two months:

• I have very recently crossed over to the beautiful, clear, and I'm-better-than-you land of Mac
• I am in (occasionally excruciating) pain from sciatica in my left leg
• I am enjoying (occasionally blissful) moments of Vicodin®-based relief
• A got a nice shot in the arm from one of Incontesta's university colleagues this week
• My mother has called me no less than 4 times a day for the past three weeks as she prepares to come with us on a week-long trip to jolly old England (her first trip outside the US)
• I have completed four movements of Meriam Mass

Here's another little list of highlights of upcoming events:

• In three days, Mom will hear and sing Meriam Mass for the first time (it's named for her mother, my grandmother)
• In three days and a few hours after the just-mentioned church service, Mom, Incontesta, and I will board a direct flight on United Airlines for Heathrow Airport in London to begin our 7-day working getaway
• I will continue to (hopefully) enjoy (occasionally blissful) moments of Vicodin®-based relief

I will endeavor to keep you updated with some sort of travelog over the next couple of weeks. I will also endeavor to get back to blogging. I think that my new MacBook Pro® will help me to attain this goal.

Ready or not, Queenie...here we come!

World premiere without the ticker-tape

My Meriam Mass was given its world premiere this morning at church. It was successful, I think. The notes were all there in the voices as well as in the organ (thank God!). How embarrassing it would have been to play it wrong! The choir sang it beautifully. The congregation was singing, albeit timidly. New pieces always get that treatment. Within a couple of weeks, they'll all be singing it with gusto, I'm sure.

Bottom line: I was well pleased with its first use in the service; it's raison d'etre, if you will.

Having said that, its reception from the masses (no pun intended) was much cooler than I would have hoped. In hindsight, I should have realized it would be just as it was. My therapist keeps telling me that it isn't so wise to ask a question hoping for a specific answer in return. He says that if one does, one will almost always be disappointed.

As much as I was trying to be humble about my work, I was not hoping for it go unnoticed. To be fair, three of my favorite people in the parish who are outside the music program sought me out afterwards to tell me how nice they thought my compositions are. (One friend from outside the parish came to church today specifically because she wanted to hear and sing the pieces, which of course is especially gratifying.) I was grateful for their comments, but they always comment and are very forthcoming with their praise for what we do there to enhance their worship experience. What was disappointing is that no one else saw fit to say a word.

I know I'm on the verge of whining and sounding rather unappealing, but we musicians thrive on attention and need your approval. The piety of Soli Deo Gloria most certainly did not originate with a church musician! It was painful for me to bare my soul in the form of some very personal music today and then feel as though no one gave a shit. It's so typical of Episcopalians to avoid rather than engage. It's no wonder people so often find our signs ironic: The Episcopal Church Welcomes You. Yes...we want you to come and be welcomed by our superior way of doing things, but don't expect us to say much more than hello to you after church. Heaven forbid we should truly connect with you on a human level.

Oh, and yes...peace be with you!

'Missa Mamaw' begins to take shape

The Mass that I've been busy composing has a name: Meriam Mass. It's named in memory of my grandmother, Meriam Delphine Calhoun, who died two weeks ago today. It's still very much a work in progress, but I've completed two parts now...I finished the Agnus Dei on Saturday. Anyway, its nickname of "Missa Mamaw" is already in use around our house.

It was an amazing feeling to hold a piece of music in my own hands that I had just finished writing with those very hands.  Not just amazing...it was intoxicating! Can't wait to experience the whole spectrum of emotions that are still to come, like the nervous anticipation of the reaction from the choir when I pass it out for the first time. Or the excitement of hearing the congregation and choir sing it for the first time during the Eucharist on Sunday, September 16!

Yes, I've started the Gloria, in case you wondered. This is so invigorating!

Sequencia branches out

This evening, as Incontesta was busy upstairs in the music office at church, I was in the chancel practicing Bach and Buxtehude. Suddenly, I got a very strong urge to compose some service music. I have often thought about it, but always managed to procrastinate. I mean, why do today what I can put off till...oh...say, next year?

But tonight was different. The need to create was palpable. I called up to Incontesta on the walkie-talkie to see if he had some music manuscript paper. He printed some for me from the internet and I was on my way.

I decided to start simply...a setting of the Sanctus et Benedictus would be good. (Oh, God! I can't do this! Oh, yes, I can! So what if it's terrible or, even worse, mediocre or sappy or silly. My God! What the hell am I doing?)

So I started sketching out a melody. Then I'd get distracted trying out harmonies. Then I'd try to write something down. Then I'd go back to sounds. I have no system for this. This is uncharted territory. (What the fuck is Supremo going to think of this drivel? Is there any way that he might actually approve of my first attempt at tapping into my compositional creative juices? He pokes fun at my sincere attempts at improvisation. Stop it, Sequencia...just keep at it. Fuck all that other shit!)

Well...about two hours later, I had sketched out the whole piece. D Major. Nice modulation to at least a couple unexpected harmonies. Highest note is an e that occurs in the Hosanna (a whole step higher than what you usually see in service music, but they're quick). Two phrases end with a couple descant-y moments for the choir's sopranos. Yep...I think I remembered to use all the conventions. The fun thing about it is that I didn't really even think about those things very much. They just sort of happened naturally.

Stay tuned. I may have the piece sketched out, but I haven't finalized any of the organ part. Lot's of harmonic ideas that I hear in my head, but still a lot of decisions to be made. Honestly, it's the organ part that's going to make this piece something more than a run-of-the-mill, dime-a-dozen Sanctus.

Again I ask...what am I doing?

Holy, holy, holy shit!