THURSDAY THOUGHTS: MAKING MUSIC

It's Thursday.

For almost two and a half years, I've been learning how to sing in Hebrew.

 

("Hooked on Phonics worked for me!"

Why DID Phonics disappear from schools? 

I recall that EVERYONE in my first grade class could READ!...but I digress.)

It all began with a studio session for local Jewish artist, 

poet, 

liturgist, 

and co-founder of Shalshelet, 

Dr. Norma Rhea Brooks. 

The place was the studio of genius tech wizard, piano virtuoso, producer, composer, arranger, chef, magician, mentor, roller skater, ping pong enthusiast, and all around nice guy, Vince Evans. 

I went to Lanham in March of 2012 to record background vocals on ONE song. 

Since then, we've brainstormed, written, studied, laughed, fussed, agreed, gone off on tangents, questioned, scrapped, started over, listened, learned, prayed, cried, paused, found a second wind, sat, waited, critiqued, sipped wonderful coffees and teas, and enjoyed wonderful meals. 

The project will include the talents of The Blind Boys of Alabama, Greg Boyer, Jay Williams, Bryan Fox, Herman Burney, Andre "Blues" Webb, Byron Nichols, Raymond Reeder, Rhonda Chapman, Sharon Williams, Mark Walker, Ramon Tasat, David Dyson, Lena Seikaly, Alfredo Mojica, Natasha Hirschhorn, Desmond Lowe, (I know I'm forgetting someone...there will be credits...lol) and today cellist Tanya Anisimova will add her part before another tune is off to mastering engineer, Bill Wolf. 

"Psalm Full of Soul" is coming soon.
We have Washington Post photographer, Marvin Joseph to thank for the photo.

What a delightful guy!

P.S. 

AGAIN, Boys and girls. Don't sleep on your church choir. Who knew when we were playing musical chairs and switching parts because there weren't enough people in one section or another, that we were prepping for something called "vocal arranging"? 

It's FUN, I tell ya!

Lord knows. I could LIVE in a studio...but someone else will have to write the charts...lol

One more thing. The people who will genuinely support and appreciate what you do--verbally AND tangibly-- may not LOOK like you. 

Ditch the box. Don't allow anyone to put you into one, and always endeavor on any job, to be teachable and do your best.

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: AAAH...THE STUDIO

I think I like session singing most of all.

To everyone who has afforded me the opportunity, Thank You. 

I could start naming names.

You know who you are.

Thank you. 

God bless you AND your descendants. 

I LOVE IT. I don't tire, I don't want to eat, I don't have to sit. Just give me some water.

The process fascinates, and challenges me, but I'm not touching anything except my headphones. 

I will not be responsible for expensive equipment...lol.

It's more fun than an amusement park. 

There's judgment, but the environment it's safe, stress-free, honest, and focused. 

No one cares how you look, or what you're wearing. 

You're comfortable. You have to be. You're singing. Why be restricted, constricted, or miserable?

The sound--the music-- is all that matters. 

It is after all, the principal thing. 

Sometimes we get so caught up with insignificant stuff, that we forget, people don't look at music, they listen to it. 

If there's a demand to be made, place it on the sound. 

Don't do anything that will negatively impact the sound. 

Don't wear out the equipment--or the people using it. 

Maybe that's why there's so much window dressing in some genres. It's to camouflage and distract listeners from the soulless, trite stuff that would assault the senses without it. 

The pre-production for "Anthology" is going nicely. 

The 23rd will be here before we know it. 

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: POETRY PROMPT---THAT STRANGE CONCERN

I was on my way to rehearsal yesterday evening when I heard James Fortune report on the passing of one of my favorite actors, the brilliant, intelligent and zany comedian Robin Williams. 

I think I began driving a little slower as I processed the news. 

I thought about "August Rush", "Dead Poet's Society", "Awakenings" , "Mrs. Doubtfire", "Hook", "Jack", and I even thought about "Toys". 

"Mork and Mindy" aired during my college years, and I rarely missed an episode. 

I don't know how many times I've watched his visit to the Actor's Studio. 

It is one of the finest displays of improvisation I have ever seen. 

His mind did seem to work faster than everyone else's. 
The feeling I had yesterday was the same feeling I had when Lucy died...and Phyllis Hyman...Bernie Mac...Whitney Houston...Andy Griffith and so many other talented strangers. 

We hurt, even momentarily because our lives had been kissed by their gifts. 

We smile because we can always reach for a CD, DVD, or log on to YouTube and be entertained all over again.

 

I was reminded of a poem I wrote in 2009:

 THAT STRANGE CONCERN

Eyes close and never reopen every day

If only words could change things

"I'm so sorry!"

"Oh no!"

"What a shame."

"I'll pray."

But, there are those

Whose passing seems wrong

Too sudden

Too soon

They were supposed to stay forever

They belonged to all of us

Or so we thought

What will we do without them?

They were special

Yet, we never wrote or talked

We only knew them from afar

There's no real tie at all

But why are our hearts still aching

As if some part of us is missing?

Whatever they did filled some space

Some time

Some era of our lives

They made us laugh, applaud, or cry

Or thank God they weren't too shy 

Or selfish to share their gift

They just gave

And never knew we received it

They shined

And never knew our days were made brighter

We hear they're gone, and tears well up

There's that heavy sigh

Stunned silence

It stings a little

"I wish I could have told them..."

"Didn't they know how much we loved them?"

"How could they not know?"

Then, we seek the company of others

Who'd laughed, and cried, and thanked God, too

"What happened?"

"Did you hear?"

We remember our favorites of theirs

And demand answers that aren't ours to know

We wonder and embrace the sadness

And wipe the odd tears that fell

Things seem so unbalanced- so off course

Why them?

Not THEM

Wait. 

Why do we even care?

Does this thing have a name?

This odd, strange, and deep concern

For someone we don't even know?

And even when the truth is told

What will we do with the details?

Will we love them any less?

We mourn the faces of strangers

Glossy, projected images 

Amplified sounds

Choreographed movement

The beautiful people

But ordinary people just the same

Souls so talented and gifted

But they never even knew our names

Still, they go, and we hurt

For a little while

And then, in an instant, we're okay

We can always see their faces

We can always hear their voices

They left behind enough to keep us occupied

More would have been nice

But we're satisfied

Then we go on about our days

As if nothing happened

While the real pain is in their loved ones' eyes.

Their parents, spouses, children, and friends

The strange concern ends

We don't know THEM.

vrwc2009