Singing beside the seaside - Airey's Inlet Music Festival

Because of interstate travel this week, I missed my vocal group's rehearsal. It was our last in preparation for two performances at the Airey's Inlet Open Mic Music Festival, taking place this weekend.

I'd been diligently recording all our rehearsals so that I could listen and go over my parts in my own time. I don't usually do this, because I have a piano and just rehearse that way, but I'm not usually booked into the hotel suite that comes equipped with a piano, so did it this way instead.

On the four hour flights to and from Perth I spent the time listening and rehearsing. I thought I was doing it in my head, until the man sitting next to me said nothing, but conveyed, with a look that said, "What the hell are you doing? Please stop bouncing around in your seat!" (This man also failed to respond to the humour being offered with the coffee by one of the flight attendants.)

Vocal Group rehearsal - the devices come out.
© 2015 divacultura

A beautiful day dawned. I stood out in the sunshine waiting for my lift to arrive with my music, doing some last minute reviews. As we snuck around the back of a cafe, right on the highway, to warm up, the passing traffic gave us some strange looks. A lone cyclist looked as though he was about to ride right off the road.

One of the songs we sang is "Waiting on an Angel" by Ben Harper. When rehearsing and thinking about this song I attached it to Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran, the two Australian men awaiting execution in Indonesia. It was all I could do to get through without tears taking over.

If you can get to Airey's Inlet tomorrow, it's worth visiting. There are nine music venues, ranging from marquees in car parks to corners of cafes and gallery spaces. The festival culminates in a performance by a "mystery guest" whose identity is a closely guarded secret.

I was so pleased to be a part of Mood Swing's performance today. Our happy, relaxed vibe created a beautiful exchange with the audience. Singing with and for other people is such a special gift.

Ritual or habit - Is there a difference?

Following on from yesterday's post about ritual and community, I've been thinking about whether any of the things I do constitute ritual. I think they do.

On Wednesday nights I drive over to the other side of town to meet with 20 other people in a hall attached to a Russian Orthodox church. It's choir practice night. There are the greetings as people trickle in. People connect with each other and new things are discovered. We stand in a circle to warm up with music that is familiar before learning a new song or working to develop a work in progress. New friends are made and professional connections forged. There is much laughter and warmth and it's very special singing in a group and making eye contact around the circle.

I think this is a ritual. It is regularly practised. It creates connection and leaves me with a sense of refreshment and connection. Is it any wonder that choirs have been used as an indicator of community health

Each night I light a couple of scented candles. Sometimes I think of something particular as I do and other times I just light the candle. The lighting of a candle often forms part of sacred ritual. This is an accessible and private ritual.

Knitting is something I do everyday, along with reading, walking, playing music and brushing my teeth. Knitting is part of my daily ritual. I slow down, sit down and take up my needles. My hands know what to do without even looking and I soon find my rhythm. I delight in the rich colours as every piece passes through my hands. If I'm knitting for someone else, I think of them while I knit. Soon I feel calmer.

Not so long ago, writing was part of my daily habit. Is a habit the same as a ritual? I think it depends. Contemporary language has appropriated terms like "ritual" and "icon" from religious context and placed them in a purely secular, often commercial context. Sporting heroes and pop star celebrities are now referred to as icons and mundane actions like checking your phone are often referred to as rituals. Reality dating shows like "The Bachelor" hold a "rose ceremony" to remove contestants and "Survivor" incorporates "getting fire to symbolise life" into tribal council. Perhaps these are examples of things that have become ritualised. 

A search of the web for images of ritual resulted in pagan images. Interesting. To me a ritual has an element of purpose or mindfulness and something changes as a result of engaging in it. And there is an order or a sequence which is observed.

At the music camp I go to every year (Summersong), ritual forms part of the big celebration party held in the middle of the week. Often the experience is profound and individuals can engage in the experience as deeply as they wish. My first year at Summersong involved a moment that I can pinpoint as being life changing.

We were asked to think of something that we wished to give up. We then had to find a natural object that would embody this thing and bring it with us to the party. I thought about this, taking it very seriously; the idea resonated. After much deliberation I realised that I wanted to give up my hardness. After many years of being a union leader I started to recognise how the toughness I was required to have everyday had made me quite a hard person. I realised I had drifted a long way from myself. I found a stone from the lake bed to embody my hardness. As we filed into the hall we were greeted with deep eye contact and invited to sit and have our feet washed. It was exquisite. I clutched my stone and as I sat there, I could feel a hard lump rising through my torso. Soon, the tears started to flow. They continued for quite a long time. I was invited to discard my stone into a basket. As I did, the tears stopped. I felt like the hardness had left.

I don't know how this will sound to people who weren't there and I'm a bit nervous about sharing it. The reason I have shared here is to show that ritual does not have to be religious. The thing that defines an action as being a ritual, for me, is the notion of being purposeful and conducted in a thoughtful, conscious mindset.

As for the writing habit, I'm reinstating it and still deciding.

What rituals do you have in your life? Where did they come from? How do they affect you?

Back in the olden days - when I wanted to be Tina Arena

I've started going to a new salon, closer to home, for my skin care. Yesterday I hit the jackpot when I met Amy, my new favourite therapist.

As she started to look at my skin, she commented on the fact that I have no lines. I liked her immediately and then asked her, why I would, since I'm only 20! She laughed, a little unsure, but then realised that I was joking.

I commented on the flute music that was playing and why everyone seems to think it's soothing. It doesn't soothe me. It pierces something important in my brain. She offered to change it and then we forgot. She marked on my card not to play the flute music when I'm in.

We got talking about music and she told me that her mother is quite a good singer, "not professional or anything, but she sings at family functions". 

I asked her if she's seen the TV show, "Nashville" and recommended it. She asked me if I watch "regular TV" and I said that I quite like "The Voice". We talked about the elegance of Kylie Minogue, the pure handsome masculinity of Ricky Martin and the eccentricity of Will.i.am. I can't remember what we said about Joel.

"Did you know there's a kids' version coming out?" Amy asked me.

Of course. This got me talking about Young Talent Time and how I wanted to BE Tina Arena. 

Amy went quiet.

"I remember when Tina came on as a contestant. She was about 11 years old and was dressed like Pocahontas. She sang "Money, Money, Money" by ABBA. I thought she was fantastic. I wanted to be Tina Arena."

Any idea that I was only 20, was banished from Amy's thoughts. 

We talked some more about my skin and I said that I wish I didn't have enlarged pores on my nose. This got me thinking about a girl at school who had had the most impressive crop of blackheads on her face. 

"Did they have treatments for that back then?" Amy asked.

I burst out laughing.  "What, back in the olden days?" I asked.

She told me that she didn't mean to offend me, she was just wondering.

I told her I wasn't offended, just amused about the picture she must have of life and skin care late last century. Surely we all scrubbed ourselves with carbolic soap and used methylated spirits as a skin toner, before flaying ourselves with steel wool if the acne was particularly bad.

To help her get over her embarrassment, I asked her where her mother learned to sing. 

Amy told me her mother had been a nun from the age of 18 to 29. She was posted to Bourke in outback New South Wales as a school teacher and met Amy's father there. 

I'd love to hear the rest of the story some time. I'd like to meet Amy's mother. Her daughter is lovely.

In concert - Bernadette Peters

I spent last night with Broadway star Bernadette Peters in concert. I saw her a few years ago at the Sydney Opera House and remember being a little disappointed. I put it down to the dodgy acoustics. When she came out and started with "Let me Entertain You" from the musical Gypsy, I wondered if it wasn't the hall that was the problem last time.

Before the show I struck up a conversation with a woman whose table I was sharing while I had a cup of coffee. She didn't really know who Bernadette Peters is and had won her ticket on the radio. I told her that she's 67 years old as the woman looked at her program. The woman told me that she hadn't looked as good as Bernadette when she was 25! I considered her now and believed this to be true.

Ms Peters looked fantastic wearing a spaghetti-strapped, soft lilac gown with just the right amount of sparkle and a split in the front of the skirt coupled with satin heels. She shimmied around the stage and wasn't always on the microphone.

Hamming it up during one of the best versions of "Fever" I've ever heard, the diva slinked her way up the stairs to lie on a black velvet pillow and strike a shapely drape on top of the piano, she sang the song with lust and wit accompanied by double bass and drums. Yes! This was great performance.

Charming conversation interspersed the evening. "Joanna" from Sweeney Todd started with a cracked note, but improved from there. I started to get a bit twitchy and then I realised what the problem was. Bernadette Peters is much more an actress who sings, than a singer who acts. She is at her best when there's an emotional or comic element to the song. Listening to her sing is not enough and will be a disappointing experience. If you can absorb yourself in the emotion of the performance, then the experience is sublime. Losing my Mind from Stephen Sondeheim's Follies was extraordinarily emotional and like watching someone have a break down driven by the grief of a broken relationship.

The show ended with the big Sondheim song, Being Alive from Company, full of hope (and a fluffed lyric or two).

For encore, Peter Allen's song "I Honestly Love You" left me with tears overflowing. She then shared "Kramer's Song" a song she wrote as part of a children's book written for an animal shelter charity. Kramer is her dog and it was lovely.

I'd love to see Bernadette Peters in a show, rather than just in concert. It must be incredible.

Were you there at Her Majesty's Theatre last night? Have you seen Bernadette Peters? What did you think?

Leaping into the unknown - in front of other people.

Sitting in my second jazz vocal masterclass, my teacher had just presented the three songs that three students would sing.  I knew one of the songs pretty well and the other two were new to me.  One of them had a chart but no lead sheet, so I was learning the song completely by ear and feel.  After hearing the teacher sing, the three students in her "team" were to go on stage and sing the three songs and based on how they sounded, a song would choose us.

"Who would like to go first?"

I leaped up without hesitation.  One of the other women in the group commented on how she loves the fact that I never hesitate and always just dive in.  "How do you do that?" she asked me.

It was easy to answer and something I now don't even think of.  It's the improvisation rule of "say yes" and fits with my personal motto of "start where you are, use what you have and do what you can".  With this mindset I am liberated from the pressure of perfection and fear of failure.  I'm learning new songs so there are bound to be mistakes!

I started with the song that I knew least and that had no lead sheet.  I was finding my way in the dark, but that was okay.  Then I sang through the song I had never heard, but at least had music to read.  Lastly I sang the song I knew best.  I knew that I would be unlikely to choose that song to work on, so decided to seize the moment and give a performance of the song.  It was beautiful to be accompanied gorgeously on the piano by Bob Sedergreen, shed inhibitions and really commit to the song.  There were moments when I had goosebumps and I could feel the energy of the "audience" (my fellow classmates) really feeling the song with me.  I received an appreciative round of applause and loved having the opportunity to sing "The Man I Love" by George Gershwin.

The other two singers in my team had their turn at the songs and it was immediately clear who should sing which song.  I have come out with the song I struggled with most, but really enjoyed the humour.  It's an old song called "Hard Hearted Hannah (the vamp of Savannah)".  A few people said that I should sing the Gershwin because it sounded great.  It sounded great partly because I already knew it.  What would be the point of starting out with something already known and spending a term working with that and missing the chance to discover something new.

Fear is the antidote to leaping in.  I'm so glad that it's been overtaken by my willingness to say "yes" and the mindset that creates.

My favourite things - this week

1. You may remember meeting Rose Wintergreen right here on divacultura.  Rose crowd-funded her album and I was very happy, willing and privileged to be able to contribute.  My favourite moment of week was reading about the release of her single, Feet in the Sand. You can read more and listen over on her blog.  What do you think?  I LOVE it!  If you like it too, pass it on!

2. This morning I set aside time to write a first draft of a book chapter that I'm collaborating with several other people on.  I'd had a few false starts in actually putting words down, but the ideas had been whirling around in my head for a while. I knew it was just a case of having a block of time and no distractions.  I put Bach's cello suites played by Yo-Yo Ma on the stereo and pretty soon I had exceeded the word requirement. I know that it's a first draft and now the task of editing and blending with my collaborators has to occur, but it is always thrilling to see ideas come to life on the screen/page. There's the additional excitement of discovering new insights as fresh connections are made.

3. I managed to get tickets for Sunday's AFL final match between my team, Richmond, and Carlton. Technically my friend got the tickets and they came with the news that we would need to hire a sherpa, take oxygen and leave now to get to our seats at the Melbourne Cricket Ground in time to watch the match.  I don't care!  I'm so excited.  Richmond hasn't played in the finals since 2001 and I've never been to a finals match at the MCG.  I figure you just have to do it!  As a consequence of actually going to the footy, I have had to put a hold on my lack of love for the colour yellow.  Richmond's colours are yellow and black and I just can't go without sporting my team colours.  I managed to snag the last ball of yarn in the perfect shade of yellow and figure I can knit a yellow and black beanie in time for Sunday's match.

4. My physio's declaration that it is possible for my knee to fully recover was definitely a good moment..  This made me very happy after struggling to zip my boots this morning.  (The angles were all wrong.)  Apparently my PCL (posterior cruciate ligament) has been stretched so far that it hasn't sprung back.  It's like an elastic band that has stretched too far.  Despite this, my physio is confident that with exercise and treatment it will regain its elasticity.  (My physio contributed another favourite moment when we were discussing the soreness in my left arm which had probably resulted from the fall that injured my knee.  The muscle I've hurt is called the "supraspinatus".  I heard her tell me I'd hurt my "super bananas". I felt lucky.  Imagine if it was my ordinary bananas!)

5.Waiting on platform 9 at Flinders Street Station today, I watched people on platform 10 running for the train.  Human beings move in some mysterious way:. the squat woman, struggling with several bags, her body engaged in multi-directional undulation; the neat Asian man wearing a backpack shuffling, Cliff Young style - not very fast but certainly tidy;  the confidence of the long-legged lunge of a besuited, bespectacled, bebearded man;  the weirdly stiff-legged gait of the man in too-skinny jeans; the small pointless steps of the woman in stilettos running for her life to catch that train; the hopeful striving of the wannabe medalist, slowing and slumping as hope fades that he can make it before the doors shut.

What was your favourite thing this week?

Jazz debut - tomorrow night

Tomorrow I perform my first gig as a jazz vocalist.  Since April, I've been taking a  jazz vocal class with jazz legend Bob Sedergreen and now we're at the culmination.

It's been an interesting journey of discovery.  Learning about where jazz came from and what is and isn't a jazz standard have filled my Saturdays.  The pressure of choosing only two songs from such a huge repertoire was exciting and an exercise in trusting that you'll choose the right songs.

I'm in love with my songs, although, as with any love affair, it hasn't always been easy.

The first one, "Waltz for Debby" by pianist Bill Evans was love at first hearing.  The gorgeous melody in 3/4 time sold me within a few bars. Then I heard the lyrics and I pounced on that song.  As with many things, its simplicity masks a very complex and challenging song.  I can't wait to sing it.

My second song is a complete change of pace - "Crystal Silence" by Chick Corea, also a pianist.  All it took was three bars.  It was love; but with love at first sight there's always a risk.  A week later I was unsure.  The lyrics were pretty heavy duty (regrets and longing for lost love) and I couldn't really remember what it was that first attracted me.  Then Bob played it and I remembered.  I think I was actually confronted by the emotional intensity of the song and what it would take for me to deliver an honest performance.  I'm so glad I stuck with it and I'm really looking forward to this performance.

I had entered the class with ideas of singing something funky and was pretty sure I'd be choosing something by Herbie Hancock.  This was a lesson in letting go and following impulses in the moment.  I'm so glad I was able to.

The class started with ten people and now we are nine, from all different places, with various levels of musical training and experience.  It's been so interesting to watch the wrestling and resistance of those who like structure and certainty - what I might call the antithesis of jazz.  I've been thinking how well my training in theatre improvisation has enabled me to be open and embrace uncertainty.  Last week, I noticed that the improv idea of offers and acceptance is highly relevant in jazz performance.  The capacity to listen to what's happening, to listen and respond within the framework of the song, makes the experience of magical for the performers and fresh for the audience.

We'll all come together tomorrow night, backed by Bob on piano, drums and double bass, at 8pm at the Paris Cat jazz club at 6 Goldie Place in the Melbourne CBD.  Tickets are $10 to cover the cost of the venue.

Now, I just need to decide what to wear.

My favourite things - this week

It's the day after yesterday and woke up again to more sexism.  This time West Australian radio announcer Howard Sattler thought he'd use the privilege of access to Prime Minister Julia Gillard to repeatedly ask whether her partner Tim Mathison is gay.  That he thought it was okay to ask is bad.  That he harangued and repeatedly asked as he said "I'm not saying this, but people are" is terrible.  That he is "flabbergasted" at his sacking really says something about the man.

Why is this included in a post of my favourite things?  Because the radio station acted swiftly and sacked him.  No namby-pamby suspension and then quiet reinstatement later when everyone has forgotten - gone.  Congratulations 6PR.

Baz Lurhman's film, "The Great Gatsby" took up most of the holiday for the Queen's Birthday on Monday.  I loved the film.  I loved Leonardo Di Caprio's performance and Joel Edgerton and Carey Mulligan.  And the music and the swoon- worthy fashions.  My favourite moment though was the footage of a young Queen Elizabeth II with the message "Happy Birthday Liz" played before the film at Yarraville's Sun Theatre.  "Oh yeah," I thought, "that's right...that's why it's a public holiday today."

Loved this piece on the 10 books people will judge you for reading.  I've read 4 of them and have no intention of reading the remaining 6.  E readers are a god send.  That's all I'm saying.  (I will make no mention of being ensconced in "World War Z - an oral history of the zombie war" at the moment.

It's well and truly winter in Melbourne and I for one am enjoying the chill.  It gives me plenty of opportunity to show off my selection of handknitted scarves and fabulous hosiery and boots.  The rain is a bit annoying, but it hasn't stopped me achieving my daily target of 10,000 steps in the Global Corporate Challenge.

Monday nights and The Voice are still a great moment in a week's television viewing.  The final is on this week and I reckon Harrison will win.  I was sad to see Miss Murphy go - it ruined my perfect record of predicting who would go through.  I will look forward to Danny Ross' album.

Lastly, I need to finish now so I can make some more sourdough toast with a smear of Maggie Beer's pate to accompany a glass of peppery shiraz. Mmmm.

Melbourne International Jazz Festival - closing night with Cassandra Wilson

As I mentioned yesterday, I convened my own private arts festival.  After Saturday's outing to King Kong, Sunday saw me take a seat for the first time in the renovated Hamer Hall for Cassandra Wilson's closing night of the Melbourne International Jazz Festival.

Since enrolling in the jazz vocal course run by Bob Sedergreen here in Melbourne, I've really lifted my game and started attentively listening to jazz again.  I always listen to music but have such eclectic tastes that I can cut whole genres of music out as I hone in on my latest passion.  Most years I attend something at the Festival and semi-regularly go and listen to live jazz around Melbourne.  The main barrier to doing this more regularly is the timetable - jazz musicians tend to play late, even on a school night.

Anyway, before starting the course, I had a vague recollection of the name Cassandra Wilson, but hadn't knowingly listened to her music.  Fellow students and posters around town and press said that she's a great jazz singer.  I thought I should take the opportunity to hear her sing live and bought a ticket on my afternoon walk past through the arts precinct.  I'm really glad I did.

In preparation for the concert I resisted the urge to seek her music out.  It's not often I can go and hear an artist for the very first time.  It was an amazing, joyous and musically rich evening.  Apart from her incredible voice and interpretation, the band was marvellous.  Conversations between harmonica and violin were never so entrancing.  Despite being unfamiliar with the repertoire, I loved the concert and was pleased that I've learned how to listen to new music.  How can that syncopation or funky rhythm be resisted?  It couldn't be.  Well, not by me, anyway.  The woman sitting to my right threw off an aura of unhappiness from the moment she was seated and left part way through the third song.  I didn't mind.

To my left was an Indian couple and they were impressed that I was coming to hear an artist with completely fresh ears.  They looked at me with envy.  We talked about the Festival and other jazz artists we liked and whether or not they played any instruments (they didn't but had a fine appreciation for music).

Hanging sculpture, foyer, Hamer Hall
© divacultura 2013

After the (unnecessary) interval, we were rewarded with some exciting and infectious moments.  The sound in the refurbished Hamer Hall is very, very good and the seats are very comfortable.  I was interested that with the refurbishment, the colour scheme has moved from the dated salmon and flamingo hues to what will soon be outdated orange shades.  I think this will date in a very quickly.   But  I do love the hanging sculpture in the foyer; it's trapezoidal shapes echoing the architecture of Federation Square, the Melbourne Theatre Company's theatres and neighbouring  Recital Centre.  The arts precinct now has thread uniting it from end to end.  I also liked the lighting which reminded me of glow worms dangling from the ceiling.

© divacultura 2013

Apart from loving every moment of Cassandra Wilson and band, I thoroughly recommend the experience of being whimsical and buying a ticket for something/someone unfamiliar.  Afterall, venturing in to explore and experience unfamiliar territory is the heart of art and artists.

Music in daily life - have you got it?

Today I was the MC for a community concert held at the Glen Eira Town Hall in Caulfield (a suburb of Melbourne).  On the program was a community orchestra, a community choir, a classical guitarist and me, singing and accompanying myself on piano.

Sonia Letourneau produced the concert and conduct the Glen Eira strings community orchestra.  Her firm belief in life is that music is essential for well-being and for life in general.  Sonia is a professional violinist (or fiddle player as she says) and her passion for music and creating opportunities for music to be played and heard is inspiring.

When I asked the audience who had ever played an instrument, most people put their hands up.  When I asked who still plays most put their hands down.  It seems it's a common story.

I started to play piano very young -  around the age of five I discovered what happened when I pressed the keys.  Sound came out! I learnt to read music as I was learning to read language and it's a skill I have never lost.  I never had to be coerced to practise.  I loved nothing more than sitting at the piano and playing for hours.  (Unless it was scales, which I hated.)

In the years when I didn't have regular access to a piano, I stayed connected to music through my singing and now that I have a piano again, I play daily when I am at home.  It is such a wonderful way to shake off the day and use my brain in a different way, while beautiful music fills my home.  Other times I will feel the satisfaction of  mastering a particularly tricky passage.  It's satisfying to hear the fruits of ones labour.

I wonder why people give up.  Maybe they're not playing the right instrument for them.  Maybe they hate their teacher.  Maybe their teacher didn't teach them to love music, but only to "get it right".  Maybe they were too busy and prioritised other things in their lives. When I speak to people personally about their musical stories, every person who used to play and has since given it up expresses regret at the fact they didn't continue.  I always ask what's stopping them picking up their instrument again or joining a choir.  The answer is usually incomplete.

Are you one of the people out there who used to play?  Why not reacquaint yourself with music?  Don't expect it to be perfect the first time you play - it won't be.  It might take some practise to get back in the swing of things, but you'll enjoy the process I'm sure.

Singing and playing the piano on stage in public is something I haven't done for about twenty years.  I sing regularly in front of other people, but playing for others hasn't happened for a while.  It was exhilirating!

Back stage while the orchestra plays on stage.
© divacultura 2013

I received an email from a member of today's audience when I arrived home.  She sounded so excited about the music and the experience of really listening and thinking about the images evoked by the music.  Best of all, she shared that she is inspired to sing!

Scientists have shown that people who play music are smarter than people who don't.  Our IQs are actually higher.  So what are you waiting for?  What role does music play in your life?  How can you incorporate music into your daily life?

My first jazz vocal class.

Today I did something I've been wanting to do for a while.  I attended my first class in Bob Sedergreen's jazz vocal course.  Me and my nine classmates meet on a Saturday afternoon at the Paris Cat, a tiny jazz club in Melbourne and one of the things on today's agenda was for everyone to get up and sing.  

"That way you can say you've sung at the Paris Cat," quipped Bob.

Immediately I could feel everyone's energy shift inward as we wondered what on earth we should sing.  Bob would accompany us, we'd be on stage, lit, and singing on the microphone.  I was excited.  I decided I'd sing whatever came to mind.  Why not?

Bob is a very democratic teacher and he said that there were two halves to today's class: singing and going through the mission statement and things to pay attention to if we wished to improve our jazz singing.  It was up to us to choose what we did first and he took a vote.  I was the only person who voted to sing.  I was surprised - isn't that why we had all come?  Ah, but it was about the nerves and delaying the moment when the fear had to be faced.

When it came time to sing a woman was already on stage and  had had a go at improvising on a common chord progression.  She was invited to sing her song while she was up there.  So I went second.

"I've got you under my skin" was what came to mind and as I started to sing I knew that the key was way to low.  No problems!  Bob just took it up a notch and then I blossomed.  What a pleasure to sing with such a masterful accompanist!  We each received some feedback when we finished and I was thrilled with mine.  Bob said that apart from my voice (which he liked), he noticed my persona and presence on stage.  He said he felt happy as I took the stage and that I radiated a happy, positive energy which made him want to listen.  

I was very pleased to receive this feedback as I think that's what happens too.  It's great to have your own beliefs affirmed by someone outside.  I'm already excited about the final concert which is a Sunday night in July.  I'll remind you.

The class has nine women and one bloke and it's clear we're all at different levels of both musical and vocal experience.  I find this really exciting.  One woman who sounded like her first language might be French or Spanish, was terribly nervous when she sang "Cry me a River".  She forgot all the words and Bob had to prompt her, yet she sang that song like it really meant something and it was wonderful.  She conveyed fragility and sadness.  

I love working in a masterclass setting.  There is as much to learn from watching other performers as there is from working on your own stuff.  

As I got in the car, the CD started playing and it jarred.  It was the Deadstring Brothers, "Starving Winter Report" - think early Rolling Stones.  I love this album, but it was wrong for where my head was at.  I drove home to my own soundtrack, skipping from "Cry me a river" to "My funny valentine".  

The Wooden Music Festival - Melbourne hipster hoedown

Yesterday started and finished with music.  Technically, this morning also started with music as the night before was still going.  What a great way to spend the weekend!

My vocal group had its first rehearsal of the year on Saturday morning.  We've been on a recruitment drive to expand our numbers a little and so hosted an open rehearsal.  This was a great way to see who's interested and allow them to come along and see how we work as well as allowing us to hear them and get a sense of fit.  We were overwhelmed with the response and it was thrilling to hear - and feel - the sound created.  I'm always pleased by seeing new singers experience the bliss of singing in harmony with other human beings.

I planned to have a nanna nap to make sure I had the stamina for a night of music at the Northcote Social Club.  I'm very pleased I did!

I was keen to see the Perch Creek Family Jug Band after discovering them busking at Tamworth a couple of years ago.  They played the Tamworth Country Music Festival this year, but I missed them there so was pleased to find their gigs this weekend in Melbourne.  They are playing as part of the Wooden Music Festival with an incredible line up:  soloist Max Savage, The Bearded Gypsy Band and the Quarry Mountain Dead Rats.

The energy from every performer was electric; from Max Savage with his heartrending lyrics and gravelly vocals commanding attention, to the Bearded Gypsy Band with high energy violin and unusual time signatures, to the Perch Creek Family Jug Band with their sibling shtick and wild joy to the Quarry Mountain Dead Rats with their bluegrass tempo set to kick-you-in-the-face-flat-out.  It was infectious and impossible to stand still.

The crowd was eclectic and at one point I marveled at finding myself in the middle of a hoedown in Melbourne with such a wild crowd ranging from hippies to hipsters and one man who I referred to the as the Black Wiggle of Death.  He was an unhappy looking older man with a black skivvy stretched over his paunch.  His hair was grey and styled like Krusty the Clown.  I couldn't decide if he had stepped out of a French psychodrama, thought he was meant to be at a jazz improvisation night or was the violin teacher of one of the players on stage.  His happiness level did not increase over the course of the night.  There was also the bearded man who accessorised his track pants and t-shirt ensemble with a key on a lanyard around his neck.  His dance style was demonstrated non-stop for the duration of the show - running on the spot and smiling maniacally.  Two girls dressed in daggy nanna dresses, with matching bobbed hair cuts, thick tights and sandshoes, topped their look with a beanie and a beret were all elbows and knees as they Charlestoned the night away.  The Bearded Gypsy Band showed only a hint of chin hair compared to the array showing in the crowd - everything from thick Ned Kelly beards (with the corresponding hair cut) to artfully constructed goatees.

All of this for $18 made for a great night out with friends and a dose of dancing.  The musicianship was incredible and it's great to see bands like these playing for an appreciative and enthusiastic audience. And the audience made for a great show in themselves.

If you're in Melbourne, the Wooden Music Festival is playing again at 2pm today, Sunday at the Northcote Social Club.  If you're not in Melbourne, they are going to be in Sydney soon.  (And probably other places.)

Open Day at the Abbotsford Convent - includes Sunday slideshow

Full bike racks at the Abbotsford Convent Open Day
(c) divacultura 2012

Today my vocal group, Living Out Loud, sang at the Abbotsford Convent's Open Day.  The day was a great example of what happens when a heritage precinct like the Convent is put to good use and opens its doors to the community.  The Convent has many artists in residence and today is an opportunity to meet them, see their work and sometimes participate.  With venues like the "Bishop's Parlour", "Mother Superior's Chamber" every corner turned is a revelation steeped in history and religion.

Convent Courtyard
(c) divacultura 2012

We sang in the Convent Courtyard just after 1pm.  The courtyard is home to a big old shady tree, perfect to cluster under on a sunny day like today.  Some people were lounging in the sun and the shade, others were milling and others were purposefully striding towards their next activity.  The crowd was appreciative and we sang well in the relaxed environment.  This is one of my favourite kinds of gigs - relaxed and enjoyable.

Today's performance space
(c) divacultura 2012

Romeo
(c) divacultura 2012

A glimpse of Juliet
(c) divacultura 2012

As we finished, Complete Works Theatre made great use of the space during their Pop Up Theatre performance.  The balcony scene was performed with great gusto and humour, Juliet perched high up on the balcony and Romeo down in the courtyard amongst the audience.  The performers were marvellous and brought the scene and characters well and truly to life.

Drum circle
(c) divacultura 2012

After singing, I walked through the grounds on my way home.   Pretty soon I was heading in the direction of an African drum circle.  A handsome man from Guinea was leading the circle with charm and exuberance.  From the outside, it sounded a bit like a rabble and his sharp slaps cut across the muddy sounds.  The circle stopped and some people stood up to leave.  I quickly found a seat, slipped my rings off and took up the djembe that was waiting for me.  There were lots of children paying close attention to the rhythm of the slap and bass.  One tiny little boy perched on a chair and started to immediately hit the drum in time.  His face was red and shiny with sweat and sunscreen under his blue terry towelling hat.  His eyes never left the leader and he picked up the rhythms quickly.

The enjoyment amongst the circle was infectious.  Strangers were smiling at each other.  Parents looked at their children in wonder as they imitated complex patterns and followed instructions, their attention never wavering.

We finished our round and I wandered off towards the smell of a barbecue and the sounds of samba, past some market stalls, stopping off at a garden tap to refill my water bottle.

Abbotsford Convent angles
(c) divacultura 2012

Courtyard corner
(c) divacultura 2012

Rosina Dormitory building, Abbotsford Convent
(c) divacultura 2012

I had caught a taxi from the city to avoid the stress of trying to park and now needed to find a way home. (The taxi driver had no idea where I was going and asked me to direct him.  I reckon there should be a discount if you have to navigate for the taxi driver.)  I walked towards Victoria Street in Richmond.  The street I was on was a mixture of old factories and warehouses, older homes and apartment blocks, as well as funky new buildings.  Big plane trees cast their dappled shade making the walk even more enjoyable.  The peace was broken as I approached Victoria Street.  A Vietnamese music shop was blaring out some kind of Asian pop, smashing the magic bubble I'd been in all afternoon.

I watched the passing multicultural parade as I waited for the 109 tram.  Five tall African girls arrived, carrying numerous plastic bags of shopping and dragging a small boy along.  I assume he was the little brother.  He looked happy enough.  I marvelled at the shape of the girls - looooooong thin legs, compact torsos, long willowy arms, plump backsides, long necks and beautiful faces with their white teeth and eyes flashing when they smiled.

If you're in Melbourne, you don't have to wait for next year's open day to enjoy a day out.  There are regular markets and the cafes and bakery are great to visit.  There's lots of information on their website.  The Good Hustle at the Shadow Electric Bar is on my list, not only for the music lineup, but also for the "meterage" of ping pong tables!

How did you spend your Sunday?  Got any tales to tell?

Unlikely busking duo

Walking down Elizabeth Street towards Flinders Street Station at about 5:30 this evening, there were the usual Friday night crowds.  People going out of the city, people coming in and people wandering around biding time.

Outside the supermarket was a funky busker, playing a bass guitar with neon green, yellow, orange and pink strings.  He had a small amplifier and wore a Madonna style microphone and was getting down with the Friday afternoon crush.  He wore a wide, white smile and was wonderful to watch and listen to.

Right beside him, grooving along, was a man who looked to be homeless.  He was leaning against one of those mysterious dark green metal boxes that cities have on their footpaths, belting out a beat along with the busker.  He seemed oblivious to the fact that it wasn't the beat for the song being played.  The busker kept his wide smile, but he was working hard to get the man to lock into the actual beat.

This didn't happen.  Something else did.  The man started to bellow along to "Buffalo Soldier".  I can think of no other word to describe the sound.  It was a bellow.  Of course the bellow had no tune, but it was also to a different beat so it sounded appalling.  I stopped to take stock of the show.

The busker was still smiling and grooving along with his bass - he had given up singing at this point.  He was now the official accompanist for the apparently homeless man who was having a blast!  The volume of the bellowing grew as his enjoyment grew.  He showed no inhibition and appeared to be deriving great pleasure from this moment of impromptu music making.

I walked on.  I could only handle this particular style of music for a short period and while it wasn't enjoyable to listen to, it was wonderful to watch.

The Voice

Occasionally someone, somewhere has a brilliant idea for a talent or reality based television show and I'll be sucked in.

Not usually a watcher of commercial television, I had barely heard about The Voice, but after only two nights, it is now on my compulsory viewing list.  I love it!  The idea of the judges selecting singers to be on their team based solely on what they hear when a contestant sings is compelling.  The studio and television audience can see the contestants and we also know a bit about them, so we don't experience the singers in the same way as the judges.

I spent yesterday talking to a group of employees about communication and the fact that human beings judge another person based on looking at them within the blink of an eye.  Our hard wiring has equipped us to quickly make these judgements so that we can determine whether the person in front of us is friend or foe.  Take out the visual channel and the sound and quality of the voice comes strongly into play.

At the moment, the contestants are singing in a "blind" audition, hoping one of the judges choose them to be on their team where they will be coached by the star judge and compete on behalf of the team.  Already, it's been an emotional rollercoaster and the desire of the singers to be chosen really comes through in their performances.

The judges, Seal, Deltra Goodrem, Keith Urban and someone called Joel Madden have a great chemistry and it's a joy to watch them delight in each new singer.  (A cynic might wonder whether the judges are as in the dark as they are portrayed, but I'm not a cynic.)

It's feel good TV, it's probably making squillions of dollars, but I'd like some more please.  I just wish there weren't so many ads.  I'm not used to them at all!

These shoes got sole!

As I walked off stage from singing at the Get Vocal festival today, a woman came up to me and said how much she and her friends had enjoyed listening to my group (Living Out Loud).  I thanked her for coming and said how pleased I was that she enjoyed our set.

Then she said:  "I also really need to tell you how much we love your shoes.  The singing was great, but those shoes are gorgeous!"

(c) divacultura 2012

Was our performance upstaged by our shoes?  I hope not.

I was wearing my beautiful red John Fluevogs.  These are the kind of shoes that complete strangers in the street will come and give some shoe love.  Whenever I'm wearing them, I feel strangers flirting with my feet.  It's a beautiful thing.

Best of all, these shoes have a secret.  Inside and out, they have musical references built in.

Inside!
(c) divacultura 2012

Way down to the bottom of the sole!
(c) divacultura 2012

la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la!

Vocal exploration - a capella

Next Saturday afternoon, the vocal group I sing with is performing at an a capella festival.  I've been letting people know about it and discovered that not everyone knows what the term "a capella" means and not everyone has discovered its beauty, joy and versatility.  It means singing that is unaccompanied by any instrument and I have loved it for as long as I can remember.

I've performed all sorts of vocal music in choirs of various configurations.  I was first introduced to madrigals as part of the small choral group at high school.  The fun and fluff of lots of fa-la-la's was very exciting when everyone in the group arrived at the right place at the same time - especially in the ones with a fast tempo!  My favourite madrigal of all time is "All Creatures are Merry Minded", written in the 1500's by John Bennett.

I was hooked on the idea of people being able to come together and make music with nothing more than their bodies:  voices providing melody and hands, fingers and feet often providing rhythm.

For a while I sang in a small professional a capella group which specialised in early church music.  There were only 16 of us and we sang some sublime music.  One of  my favourites from that time was the "Miserere" by Allegri.  Written in the early 1600's, it would have originally been sung only by male voices.  The Company of Voices sang in cathedrals to take advantage of the glorious acoustics.

I remember performing a piece by Palestrina (I think) that was quite complex and in about 12 parts.  We knew the piece very well and so also knew very quickly that something had gone terribly wrong.  It was sounding different and it felt like we were somehow all in different places.  Fear can easily take hold in this situation but we managed to find a resting point within the music.  The conductor mouthed the page number and we took off again, made it through to the end intact and managed to smile in relief as the fear left our eyes.  There was power in the energy of the group and our ability to communicate through eye contact that saved us.  Still, I wouldn't want to be in that position again!

We also sang music by twentieth century composers in that group.  Things like "Hymn to St Cecilia" by Benjamin Britten.  The tonality is completely different from the older music and it is thrilling to sing for the different feeling it evokes.

Since that time, I've explored black gospel music and African music in various groups.  Listening to many of the old recordings of quartets and bigger groups, I love the energy and precision they bring to their singing.  Every word can be heard and their rhythm is tight!  Even many of the slower songs can suddenly pick up pace and go from solemn to joyous!

I learnt about black South African music not long after the end of apartheid when people were coming out to tell their stories of suppression.  Their songs held their history.  One particular artist with whom I worked in Brisbane had been in prison and suffered a lot.  Despite this, there was always singing.  In his culture singing was done by anyone who had a voice, not just musicians.

Many modern songs have also benefited from a capella arrangements.  Check out "Call your Girlfriend" by a female vocal trio called Erato.  The harmonies are bliss and I love their funky rhythms played on the kitchen table with empty margarine containers!

Paul Kelly's song "Come and Meet Me in the Middle of the Air" is sung a capella by Melbourne comic vocal trio Tripod and Eddie Perfect in this version.

I believe that human beings have a need to make and appreciate music and there is nothing better than the human voice joining with other human voices - the possibilities are endless.  Have a look and a listen to the Voca People - 8 people who sound like everything from an orchestra to a rock band!

These days you don't even need to be in the same place as other singers.  Eric Whitacre has created the ultimate virtual a capella choir.  Singers from around the world record their parts at home and submit the file digitally.  It's all then mixed to create a masterpiece like "Sleep".

If you're yet to experience the spine tingling joy of hearing the human voice singing with other human voices, the Get Vocal Festival is a great place to begin.  Tripod is performing at the opening night concert this Tuesday.  My group, Living Out Loud, is performing at the Saturday Matinee Showcase along with Mint 26, The Ice haloes, Key Change and Corisande.

Why not sample something different next weekend and support local music!

*Quote promotional code "Sue Johnson/Living Out Loud" when booking tickets to any event.*

Sounds of silence

I spent today's choir rehearsal in silence. I've been nursing a sore throat over the last couple of days and woke up this morning with hardly any voice.  My voice is my main tool for my work (except my writing) so I really can't afford to lose it.  Literally.

My vocal group has a gig coming up and I decided that even though I couldn't sing, it was still important to be at the rehearsal.  I'm so glad I went.  I sat out the front and was able to hear things and gain perspectives that just aren't possible when you're singing a part in the middle of the group.  It was so exciting!

Being in the world in silence is an interesting thing to do every now and then.  Especially when you're an extrovert like me.  It's still possible for dialogue to occur and connections with others can be made.  Exchanges become about conveying everything physically.  And people are also amazingly good lip readers.   (This makes me think about the film "The Artist" which I wrote about here and how easy it was to "hear" the conversation in a silent film.)

Losing my voice is not new to me.    It used to happen all the time and was usually not related to a physical cause.  When I was at university I lost my voice for three whole weeks!  I was living on campus in a residential college too, so it was pretty challenging.  This was the first instance of being unable to speak and not having an underlying physical cause.  Apparently it is quite common.

I tried everything.  I tried to unblock my chakras.  I breathed the colour blue.  I saw a speech pathologist.  I even just tried to speak, but it just didn't work.  So I decided that I just had to ride it out.

I carried a little notebook and fellow college residents and friends became well-practised in this new style of conversation. They would wait patiently for me to write my side of the dialogue in the notebook. A few years ago I found the notebook when I was cleaning some stuff out.  I remember being struck by how mundane my bits of direct speech were.  It was all a bit "pass the salt".  Surely I had something profound to say!  I was studying journalism and literature and history and drama and music! What a shame I didn't think to write myself some really fabulous dialogue!

One morning I woke up and my voice was back. Just like that.  No announcement or precursor.  It was an anti-climax in many ways.  Suddenly I was normal again and all the attention and solicitation I had enjoyed as friends eased my way in the world, was gone.  I was just another voice in the crowd.

As I had become so practised at being silent, my friends and I decided to go out one night with me pretending to be mute.  In a crowded pub or nightclub it hardly makes any difference and in many ways it is easier to just not talk.  Men would ask my friends about my history and how it was that I came to be mute.  All kinds of things were made up and for the most part they seemed to be believed.  Or perhaps it was wishful thinking on the part of these young men (imagine that!  a woman who can't speak!).

Apart from my voice being my living, it's also a big part of who I am in the world.  I verbally joust and usually have a witty comment at the ready and enjoy making people laugh.  Today, I noticed people taking the opportunity to poke me a little bit (in fun) because they knew they would be safe from my comeback.

At the supermarket buying food after rehearsal the girl at the checkout said hello and asked me how I was.  I indicated that I had no voice.  She was sympathetic and then gave me the following prescription: drink hot water with honey and lemon.

I nodded and mouthed, "And brandy!"

So here I am, silent and sipping the spirits left over from Christmas cooking.  The brandy burns on the way down, but it sure feels good.

Have you ever lost your voice?  How did you cope?

A little Christmas music

Last night I had a little burst of Christmas music.  The vocal group I sing with (Living out Loud) hosted a concert and party for our friends and family.  I don't have any family living in Melbourne, so it meant a lot that friends came and shared the evening.

And it was an opportunity to glam up for the occasion.

You can see the white flower which I had to hunt for in the crush of  Christmas shoppers.
(and yes, it's another self portrait with iphone.)

I have previously written about the enjoyment of singing in a group - this group in particular.  Last night felt very good and relaxed.  I could tell we were sounding good because the tingle-ator was working overtime.  What's a tingle-ator?  When the harmonies and the energies of the group are working really well together you can feel it on your skin.  Goose flesh might rise, hairs stand on end and everything goes tingly.  This happened to  me several times last night.  What an endorphine rush!

One of the things I love about singing with this group is the relaxed approach to performance.  A relaxed approach does not mean that we're not serious about making beautiful music together it just means that we allow our personalities to shine through in the performance itself.  There was banter (some may call it sledging) between the singers last night and it made the audience laugh and enjoy the show more.  To cool the room down during interval we had turned on a very large fan.  It sounded like a jet engine and was also playing havoc with the hair styles of the (female) tenors. They were beginning to remind me of Phyllis Diller when she did her hair with an egg beater.  I'm sure you get my drift.   Across the other side of the stage was the bass section, all of whom are follicularly challenged and were therefore unruffled.  The request to swap sides of the stage seemed fair.  We turned the fan off instead.

The second half of the concert was an opportunity to share some Christmas music.  Our conductor led the audience and choir in an improvisation which sounded fantastic!  The looks of concentration on the faces of audience members was something to behold but the pay off came at the end when they all beamed with joy, surprise and satisfaction at the glorious sounds they had just made together.  Perhaps their tingle-ators were also working and they were able to experience the feeling of singing together with other human beings.

The improvisation was the warm up for choir led renditions of the "Coventry Carol" and "Silent Night" as well as the joyful African song "Ho-no-no" and a bit of retro chic in "Feliz Navidad".

Food and drink brought by the singers was shared by all and it was a truly lovely finish to our singing year.

They say that a measure of the strength and quality of a community is the number of choirs that it has.  I'm not surprised!  People who may otherwise not cross paths come together for the intense and magical experience of harmonising together.  It's a deeply bonding and emotional experience.  Some Saturday mornings I resent having to wake up and drag myself to rehearsal, but I never drag myself home.  It's the ultimate pick-me-up.

If you've never done it, why not find a group to sing with in 2012?  It can change your life.

Christmas cheer, Christmas chunder

The Christmas crowd is out in force with all its nuances and faces.  Some of it is happy.  Some of it is stressed.  Much of it walks very, very slowly, in fat, wide lines that form an impenetrable  barrier.  And a lot of it is drunk.

As I made my way through the city this afternoon, I crossed the road and heard a man singing "It's now or never".  It wasn't recorded and it sounded pretty good.  I looked around to find the singer and saw a young guy standing right on the edge of the road, millimetres from the passing traffic, singing his heart out and searching the eyes of the nearby people to connect with his audience.  In his hand was a can of Jim Beam and he also was doing some moves to accompany his tune.  The showmanship was pretty good and he asked me if I wanted to go and sing karaoke with him.  His big sell was that he was the "best" - at karaoke, I assume.

I didn't have the chance to answer.  As he hit the line "It's now or never" he stepped fully into the traffic.  Cars slowed down as he dodged between them and finally took refuge on the island in between the lanes.  He played the clown, sneaking around like a naughty child who was trying to not be seen.

The love ballad took on a fatalistic, apocalyptic quality.  I really hoped the answer was "never" as I squinted and hunched in anticipation of what I was sure I was about to witness.

He made it to the other side and went on his merry way, bringing impromptu music to the shoppers.

In contrast was the train ride home last night after I'd been to a Christmas party.  The smell of stale alcohol was heavy in the carriage as I opened the door.  People were quiet.  It had been a hot couple of days and it was just starting to cool down.  I heard the sound of a large volume of liquid hitting a hard surface somewhere behind me.  No other sound.  I looked around and saw a number of people silently get up and move quickly to another part of the carriage.  Nearby was a man bent double looking at the people around him.  He had vomited.  Right there on the train surrounded by people.

I turned back disgusted and tried not to think about it.  I'm a sympathy vomiter - the mere thought is enough to make me gag.  I had to focus somewhere else.

When I arrived home I felt bad for the man.  I had judged that he was drunk, but I didn't know for sure.  Perhaps he was really ill and needed help.  No one gave it to him.  The next time I looked around, he wasn't on the train any more.  What if I had taken ill on a train during Christmas season?  Would the few beers I'd had at the party I'd been to mean that I too would be abandoned with a sneer of disgust?

I wonder if my initial reflex was correct?  I wanted to yell "It's public transport, not a public toilet."   I said nothing.  I was too busy focussing on the gag I was trying to suppress for the next three stops.