Old Age Day by Day May 13, 2011

At chorus rehearsal last night I had a mini epiphany when the director had me soften up and not press my voice. I am loud. I have always been loud. I have a voice that carries across an auditorium. I have a big laugh. Whispering is hard. Soft voice is difficult. Blending is is harder. Part of this is the Ethel Merman chops I was born with. The other comes from being the new kid at school and needing to be the class clown to get people to notice me. I had to be BIG. At least subconsciously I believed so. My father had this huge presence, and I wanted to be like him. Now, this does not mean I don't know how to blend. I was an alto most of the time, in school, and I was excellent at blending. But coming back to singing after all these years has triggered more emotional that rational behavior. I've lost my confidence, so I get loud in my nervousness. But I'm working on it with the director, and it's like therapy a bit. I am often the only person singing my part, so I get loud to try to be at least four people. In my case this is not necessary. So I'm listening to the other parts more, and blending, which is weird, because my part is different, and hearing the other parts is challenging. But it's getting better. And last night, when she wanted me to sing out on one piece, and I was too quiet, I told the group, "this is a change - usually I'm trying to damp myself down!" When to sing out and when to blend: now isn't that the trick in life?!