A Chorus Girl

"This is what I want to do for the rest of my life."

Lucy, in a cathedral in Europe, 1993

I've always been able to sing. In elementary school, I was usually chosen to sing the solo for the class musical (I had an awesome elementary music teacher. I think it's tragic that schools are eliminating their music programs). Until Misty came along in fifth grade. She had this unusual-for-our-age husky voice that everyone thought was so cool and I was relegated back to being a chorus girl.

I stayed comfortably in my choir role until my senior year of high school. I had done some duets and such for music festivals, but knew my strength came from my ability to read music, learn a part quickly and carry my section. I was the "alto" and the piano player. Those were my things.

My senior year of high school, I signed up for private voice lessons. I don't recall why. I just did and I was surprised by the enthusiasm of my voice teacher. She convinced me I was a singer. She had me sing at a NATS competition and it was the first time I had ever sung a solo in front of a judge. I had been playing piano pieces at District and State Music Festivals for years, but there, you sit at an instrument and play it. Here, I was forced to stand alone, and "play" my instrument from memory. If I was bad, I was bad. Not the piano. Not my fingers. Me. I felt naked.

I sang two numbers and did well. So well that I ended up tying for first place. My voice teacher was shocked (which didn't stroke my ego all that much) and called me a "dark horse" - a term I had to go home and look up. As excited as I was with the recognition, I was more flattered that I was considered an equal to the girl I tied with. She was incredible. I was just an alto.

Shortly after that, I was approached by my high school choir teacher about auditioning for a youth choir that planned to tour Europe that summer. My parents being the ever supportive and fantastic beings they are, told me to try. I sent in a tape and when I received confirmation back, got ready to leave for Europe the day after high school graduation.

Weren't we fetching in our floral concert attire? I mean, with that slimming pink cummerbund, all this dress needed was to be shortened and voila! Another dress for my wardrobe!

Yup...that's me with the fake smile and casual up-do in my usual spot. Back row...middle.

After a week of long and rather brutal rehearsals, our conductor had whoever wanted to audition for the solo in "Amazing Grace" sing the first verse a cappella in front of the rest of the choir. Coming off a fairly recent confidence boost, I tried. Once again, I was surprised and excited to "come in first".

Europe was...amazing. Life changing. We toured for three weeks around the countries of Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Belgium and the Czech Republic. We sang in front of crowds in small village towns, famous cathedrals and outdoor amphitheaters. We sang master works during the first half of the concert and American spirituals for the second half. When it was time to sing Amazing Grace, I and four other girls would climb the stairs to the organ loft after listening to a pitch on a pitch pipe. I'd hum that note the entire way and when the conductor gave me the signal, I began to sing the first line a capella. Halfway through the verse, two girls joined in with harmony and eventually the other two would join in to end the verse. The rest of the choir sang the remaining three verses all together, and at the song's end, the conductor would point up to the choir loft and we five would take a bow.

The choir spontaneously singing in a circle while touring a cathedral. That's me in my long cream rain coat.

Another circle moment at the bottom of the Olympic ski jump in Innsbruck. Apparently, we really liked to sing in circles.

It was exhilarating. It was what I wanted the rest of my life to feel like.

That fall, I declared voice performance as my major at BYU. The trouble is, female singers at BYU are a dime a dozen. It was the classic big fish/small pond to small fish/big pond transition. There, I was no dark horse. There, I was just a girl with limited training who decided early on that I was not nearly good enough to make it.

My first professor was convinced I was NOT an alto and forced me to sing selected songs in key signatures that I thought were too high. I remember singing Oh Danny Boy in front of our class and missing all the high notes. It humiliated me, mostly because I already felt that everyone in that class was better than me.

After that semester, I dropped out of the vocal program. Looking back, I realize what a huge mistake that was. I was eighteen, dumb and lacked vision. The only thing I knew was that the chances of me singing Amazing Grace in European cathedrals was not very likely. And anything less than that was simply....less.

That first summer home almost convinced me to change my mind again. A jazz band asked me to sing a few songs with them, including Amazing Grace, and that performance high returned ten fold. I loved singing. I loved performing.

One of the three songs I sang with Dixieland 7. (Of course, I made them an awkward eight)

My life sort of got in the way, though, and inspiration and courage rarely stood beside me during my pitiful sophomore year. I slept walked through my newly declared major's psychology classes, avoided the HFAC altogether (too many freaks there) and turned my back on the first thing I think I truly loved doing.

Besides that brief little moment in the sun, I have returned to my comfortable spot of alto in the choir. The caliber of choirs has fluctuated between being so good I could cry, like last year's Bach Festival Chorus and being so bad I do cry (ward choir #1, 2, 3 etc.). I miss singing. I miss being good. No, I miss feeling good. That isn't false modesty talking. I know my limits. I have a pleasant sacrament meeting voice and have occasionally been hired to sing. I think I've made about $300 as a professional singer. But I wanted to be Barbara. Or play the part of Fantine. Lately it's been Elphaba.

Because a friend asked, and it's a part of me that I'm willing to share, I post my internet debut singing my beloved Amazing Grace. Believe me, it's not fun for me to watch. My face does all sorts of weird things when I sing. I've tried recording it several times now and this was better than just turning the camera on myself (if you think my eyes do weird things here...imagine them even closer to the lens!) The thing is...I'm not usually an embarrassed or nervous singer. I love to do it. I just have never had to look at myself do it before. Yikes! Forgive the imperfections. It's my best choir girl offering.

Um....enjoy? (This is for you, Alisa!)