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 Burnett Chapman, Sharon Orr 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

THURSDAY THOUGHTS: A NEW, GOOD DAY

Let's try this again.

It's a new day..and it's nice. 

Deliberately endeavor, as much as you can, to keep it that way.

You know the stuff that aggravates, so refuse to entertain it. 

I know. That sounds too easy, but you don't have to answer every call, email, text message. 

You can shut down, unplug, change channels, and disconnect from the beeping, chiming, ringing, and knocking. 

Stop and think about your responses. 

You can say, "No", too.  

Now that's a good one that we tend to forget on occasion.

You can stick to your plan, finish your assignments, address your laundry list, or just chill. 

Setting boundaries is a good idea, sometimes. 

Those things that try to bully their way in to get an audience, can only do so with your permission.

If some of yesterday's yuck spilled over into today, and you're going to have a conversation, don't talk to yourself, you'll only become more aggravated 'cause you will always cosign your own point of view, and you'll be so engrossed in agreeing with yourself, that you'll look up and it's tomorrow. 

All of those voices in your head have to stick together, you know, and they will talk forever. 

So...Free yourself today and get a wise, objective take on the situation. 

Talk to God.

He will probably suggest that you get some help with the yuck. 

If another person is involved, he'll suggest you talk to them. 

What a novel idea! It's not the favored route of gossips, but it does have its benefits. 

Instead of assuming or speculating, or just flat out making up stuff, you'll know. 

Whether you are comfortable with what you learn through having clear-the-air-type conversations, however, depends on you, your honesty, maturity and willingness to forgive or say, "I'm sorry". 

Granted, it's not always easy to engage others, especially if they're right fighters, but do your best. Whatever you find out, is better than not knowing--and then you can commence to enjoying the day!

Don't spend today being catty, though. 

Talking about others can, and does backfire--especially if you're engaged in conversation with someone who is as loyal as Lucifer (or they can't keep their own business confidential--let alone yours). Besides, it's kinda messed up when others meet the person you've been bashing, complaining about, and criticizing, and conclude that they're positively lovely and you're the crazy, jealous, judgmental, insecure, manipulative, unstable one.

It's never a good idea to assign thoughts and feelings to other people. You may be horribly, horribly wrong. Your interpretation of what someone else is doing, thinking, saying, feeling, and why, is either colored by your own impression of them, their deliberate negative actions, the contents of your own heart, or it's an excuse to maintain distance or perpetuate strife. 

Don't be messy, boys and girls. Going around starting hate campaigns against others because you have an issue with them is...well...petty...and selfish...and childish...and just not a good look...

Sorry, but everyone is not going to agree to be mad just because you are. That's not support. That's stupid--especially if you're the culprit in the matter. If I'm going to be mad, I need my own reasons and they're gonna be good and justifiable.

Don't muck up today. It's so gorgeous, and it's still early. 

Decide if whatever IT is can possibly be as big a deal as you think. Either address it, and face the consequences, or let it go. 

There's a lot of serious stuff going on in the world, and although your issue is...well...YOUR issue that a whole lot of people would be delighted to swap with theirs,  if THAT is the most serious item on your plate.

Come on. Have a GOOD day...on purpose.

HOWARD UNIVERSITY MUSIC HISTORY: GROSS OMISSION

I like receiving the glossy Howard University magazine. 

The cover reads, "A Century of Leadership in Music Education". 

So, I turned the pages in anticipation of seeing a photo of you know who...

I read, “Several other alumni and students are still making their marks." 

Okay, his name is coming up, right? 

Wrong.

SMH....

I suppose one can't possibly discuss the "pivotal" role of gospel music, on the campus of Howard University, in three small paragraphs, but a certain distinguished alum's name would have only required 16 letters and a space!

 

I know he's not about the accolades, and never has been, but as a reader, a comprehensive list matters....and NO mention of The Celestials?...and another thing...I'm still not understanding why "Where Are They Now" is ANYWHERE near Roberta Flack's name, as if she fell off the Earth.

There's a VERY nice article about that sangin' Kenny Wesley, by the way. 

I know. I'm biased.

To me, Richard Smallwood is a visionary; one of the greatest pianists and composers in the Solar System. One cannot have a conversation about the Music history of Howard University, or American music history, for that matter, and knowingly omit him.

When we have the opportunity to tell our own stories; write our own histories, and pen articles about our own, we cannot afford to allow space or ignorance, however unintentional, to cause us to gloss over VERY important details. 

I imagine that writers will always offend someone, and I won't go so far as to make an accusation of laziness, or attribute the omission to youth (because there are some very thorough young journalists), but a little research will transform a nice article into a great one.

SUNDAY THOUGHTS: THE LITTLE THINGS

When he gets a hold of my phone or computer, my littlest nephew always wants to search for all things "Sonic the Hedgehog". 

He commandeered my laptop, once again, looked at numerous versions of Sonic, and then zeroed in on one. It was a 5 inch action figure from the "Black Knight" series. 

"This is it! This is the one!" 

They all looked the same to me, but he was very specific about which figure he wanted--and was sure I was willing, AND had the means to obtain it for him. 

There were some available at ebay, Amazon, and ToysRUs. 

Most of the ones he clicked on, shipped from outside of the country, and the shipping charges would be more expensive than the actual toy. 

I tried to persuade him to choose another one. 

He was adamant about the one he saw. 

It was that or nothing. I admired his commitment.

Clearly I was ignorant about the authenticity of the toys, and he explained the color schemes, story lines, and purposes of Sonic. 

Impressed, I told him that if he could find one that would be shipped from somewhere in the U.S., I'd get it for him. 

He kept searching. "California is in America, isn't it, Nessa?" 

I found a U.S. map, and told him to look and see. With his little finger, he traced the map. 

He was heading toward the Pacific Ocean and was getting a little worried, then let out a yell when he saw the letters. 

"C-A-L-I-F-O-R-N-I-A! There it is!" 

He then counted the number of states between California and Maryland. 

His little countenance changed. 

He figured it would take a very, very long time for the toy to arrive, but he assured me that he was willing to wait. 

"Are you gonna get it for me? Can you order it today?" 

I knew he could have it in a day if I was willing to pay for the shipping...lol

I'd had the toy for about a month or so when I finally gave it to him. (My sister thought that the end of the school year would be a good time, since he'd done so well). 

I went to my sister's house, and he met me at the door. 

I'd mentioned something about the toy each time I saw him, and he could hardly contain his excitement. To see his little face light up just melted my heart. He knew I had a bag behind my back, and the contents of the bag were for him. 

He opened the bag, then the package, and handled the toy like it was pure gold. 

He turned and flipped it, and noticed all of the points of articulation. 

"I've never had a toy like this in my life!...This is a great toy...This is a great DAY!", he said. 

I imagine that almost 7 years on Earth IS a long time for a little kid, and their estimations of their experiences, and what's extraordinary, MAY seem over the top. 

That's the delight of a little kid, I guess. 

It doesn't take much to make them happy.

 Faithfulness is something they depend upon. 
There are things, I suppose, none of us should ever lose, like patience, gratitude and joy. 

His happiness made ME happy. 

The toy didn't make a dent in my wallet, but the emotions he demonstrated made me feel as if I'd given him a million dollars--or whatever the equivalent of that would be in the mind of a six-and-a-half year old. 

He also made me want to see that smiling face again and again. 
He told me all about Sonic's gold alter ego "Excalibur" as he played. 

He has a figure but, apparently his sword is broken, and his body is missing. 

I had to stifle a laugh, and was impressed that he knew and could pronounce the word "Excalibur"...so...He doesn't know it yet, but I placed another order. 

His faith in me let me know I don't ever want to let him down. 

I don't always have to buy something, nor do I have to have a gift every time I see him, but I think he knows I just love him, and will keep my word--and he simply can't have a bodiless action figure, now, can he?

The whole thing made me think about my relationship with God. 

He knows what I want, and how badly I want it. 

I know better than to ask Him for certain things, but if something is in line with his will for me, I don't mind waiting on Him to deliver. 

I know that he loves me. 

I know what he is capable of, and I know that his timing is perfect, and his word is good.

FOURTH OF JULY: EAST OF THE RIVER

Happy Independence Day! 

(WHOSE independence is highly debatable.)

Happy 238th Birthday, America, and Happy 239th Birthday to the U.S. Army

--in which, if I had the authority, I would enlist every person outdoors who's holding a lit match, and send them straight to Fort Greely...no...Siberia.

I don't dread the day. 

It's a lovely day that the Lord has made! 

It's just what comes with the day that concerns me. 

It's the annual commencement of DC's most popular game: "Gunshots or Fireworks?" 

Does one phone 911, and hear the seemingly unaffected voice of a dispatcher, who has to contend with a record number of similar calls, or does one merely pray that no one was actually shot, and is bleeding in the street as you struggle to make up your mind? 

I am officially getting old.

Well, Chirren, in this year's exciting episode of "Fourth of July Tales From East of the River", Lil' Ray Ray, Tee Tee, Man Man, an' Nem got started at exactly 7:40 AM with the ammo they must have picked up during their last field trip to the Pentagon.

Yes, your girl started praying a Davidic-type prayer, replete with words like "smite" and "beasts". 

Would that I had the power to:  

summon a swarm of mosquitoes,

and torrential rain (come on, Arthur), 

and harness the mighty wind to snuff out every match, and carry away every lighter, and blow down every eyesore fireworks stand, and reduce them to kindling,

and become independently wealthy so I can pay off every vendor.

and render useless every fuse of anything that's meant to explode or mimic gunfire (except, of course, the stuff that will be controlled tonight by the licensed professionals of Garden State Fireworks Company)

and, finally, I'd make a law: 

NO FIREWORKS IN DENSELY POPULATED RESIDENTIAL NEIGHBORHOODS BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 12 AM AND 12 AM!!!!!!

I can see how people snap. 

I would understand if someone would just go outside, sleep deprived, in their pajamas and start smacking people with a stop sign. 

I can see how an insanity plea can be justified. 

I can see how people in war-torn areas can either become desensitized or go insane...

*sigh*

Attitude needs adjusting...must flee to quiet Maryland...must find happy, cheerful Vanessa...

Let's see...Thank you, Psalm 118:24...

*woosaaaaah*

Be safe, Everybody... 

Oh...and don't end the day without reading "What To The Slave is The Fourth of July" by Frederick Douglass...and pick up a copy of "Negro Comrades of the Crown: African Americans and the British Empire Fight the U.S. Before Emancipation" by Gerald Horne...

and try endure the noise in a way that will not be detrimental to your health. 
That's it...Put the bottle down. 

Hopefully the revelers will run out of ammo by mid August or so.