I Remember Robert Shaw

Robert Shaw died on Monday, January 25, 1999.  In the thirteen years since his death there have been many wonderful choral performances that have taken place in America.   Still, it is impossible to imagine what these performances would have been like without the influence his choral genius had on generations of choral singers and conductors.  For the second half of the 20th century Shaw’s name was synonymous with choral excellence, and his life and work continue to influence many of us today.  I was fortunate to have the opportunity to sing under his baton for a number of years and was honored to be one of two persons invited to write a reflection on his life for the Atlanta Journal Constitution on January 29, 1999, just days after he died.  I remember writing this homage through a veil of grief, knowing that thousands of others throughout the country, even the world, were feeling the same sense of loss.  Here is what I said:

Dear Mr. Shaw,

It was in the fall of 1973 that I first met you, and I recognize it today as one of the pivotal experiences of my life.  I was auditioning for the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra Chorus and was thrilled to be meeting you, my idol since age 12.  I recall standing there, a young college instructor just two years out of graduate school, with knees trembling as I heard you softly say after my auditon, “You’re in, and I think I’d like you to come back and audition for the Chamber Chorus as well.”  I don’t think my feet even touched the ground on the way back to my car! Well, the Chamber Chorus audition went fine and even resulted in an invitation to solo in the November performances of Handel’s “Messiah.”  Within several weeks of meeting you, I was standing on the stage of Symphony Hall performing as a soloist under your baton.  I could hardly believe my good fortune.

What transpired during the next ten years of singing for you as both a chorus memeber and a soloist was a succession of musical epiphanies, each one somehow illuminating my life with brightness and clarity.  I remember Florence Kopleff, your alto soloist of choice for several decades, singing ‘Agnus Dei’ from Bach’s “B Minor Mass” and thinking that if I closed my eyes I might be transported to heaven.  I also remember a time when the Chamber Chorus was performing Bach’s “St. Matthew Passion.”  During a section of exquisite beauty, I felt tears cascading down my cheeks.  Somewhat embarrassed at my lack of control, I glanced quickly to my left, only to find my neighbor also in tears.  A quick look to my right found that singer in a similar condition.  You had led us to a place indescribable in its poignancy.  I remember your spoken and written words, which helped us understand that we were part of something much larger than ourselves.  I remember you saying that God was not pleased with wrong notes and that things would go much more smoothly if we would just go ahead and sing what the composer had requested.  You were right.

As you know, you were often praised for your sensitivity to humankind and for your thoughtful reflections on our relationship to God and God’s relationship to us.  At the same time, you were criticized for your sometimes callous treatment of individuals, a seemingly contradictory behavior considering your affection for us as a group.  I recall a conversation you and I had shortly after one of those blistering attacks on a chorus member, an attack I considered unjustified.  We were in one of our ‘friendly periods,’ and since I had recently performed as a soloist in an ASO subscription concert, I felt qualified to help you learn something about interpersonal communication.  (You must remember, I was much younger then!) I approached you and said, “You know, Mr. Shaw, you have such an affection for humankind; it’s a shame you don’t like people very much.”  I awaited your response with a bit of trepidation, but you laughed your tremendous, hearty laugh, slapped me on the back and said, “You may be right, Mike.  It takes a lot of effort to be nice.”

Well, you were very generous to me that day, and I want to thank you for being kind, the very quality I had just suggested you did not possess.  It’s true, you didn’t always choose the most socially acceptable way to show you cared about people.  However, you showed it in more profound ways.  For example, you opened my eyes, ears, heart and mind (and those of many others) to the truth and beauty of choral music.  And you taught me, by example, to never give less than my all – that this art of making music deserves, even demands, our total effort.  Oh yes, you cared deeply for all of us, individually and collectively.  I was just unable to understand it then.

It is difficult for me to imagine now a world without your presence – leading, correcting, encouraging and chastising.  But you are still with us and will continue to be, as long as we have your recorded performances of more than 50 years from which to learn, and as long as we have singers and conductors who try to pass on what they have learned from you.  So, thank you, Mr. Shaw.  You have enriched my life in ways I can never begin to express, and I will be grateful to you every time I study a score, lift a baton or open my mouth to sing.

Rest softly, Mr. Shaw.  Softly rest.

Seeing Through the Eyes of Others

I love to read.  The habit started early in life and seems to be growing with each passing year.  I’m especially drawn to nonfiction, primarily because it gives me the opportunity to learn something new.  One of my favorite writers is Malcolm Gladwell, a regular contributor to The New Yorker, and author of such best sellers as Outliers, Blink, and The Tipping Point.  Gladwell is essentially a social psychologist who helps his readers think about such diverse topics as the nature of genius, how little things can make a big difference, and the importance of going with one’s “gut feeling.”  In his fourth book, What the Dog Saw, Gladwell has just collected many of his previous essays from The New Yorker and created a series of stories and reflections that allow the reader to see the world through the eyes of others.  I don’t want to give away more of the book because I would prefer you read it, but I will let you know that the title of the book comes from an essay about Cesar Millan, the “Dog Whisperer” of television fame.

You may ask, what, if anything, does all this have to do with choral music?  Well, while I do have thoughts from time to time on subjects non-musical, this one does have a choral theme.  While reading What the Dog Saw and considering how instructive it can be to see through the eyes of others, it struck me that this is what we do everytime we sing a piece of choral music.  We are seeing and hearing through the eyes and ears of the composer and librettist.  The person or persons who wrote the music and the words we are singing had a message to share. We become the vehicle of the sharing when we sing, both with others and with ourselves.  Isn’t that amazing?  The MOS chorus has recently completed a very successful performance of  The World Beloved: A Bluegrass Mass by Carol Barnett (composer) and Marisha Chamberlain (librettist).  For many of my singers this became a transformational piece in that they were able to see music and life in a somewhat different manner following exposure to this unique work.  I’m not saying it made a major difference in anyone’s life, but I am suggesting that in some small way we were all changed by the rehearsal and performance of this music.  Ultimately, I think that is one of the points suggested by Gladwell in his book – that we can be changed (for the better) by taking the time to see the world through the eyes of others.

iPads and Choral Music

Well, I finally broke down and bought an iPad 2.  While I haven’t yet started using it (just got it last night), I’m looking forward to entering the iPad world.  I did the same thing with my iPhone a couple of years ago and have enjoyed it thoroughly (constantly discovering  interesting new apps), and even a couple of years prior to that when I started loading my CD collection on my iPod (I could listen 24/7 and still not be finished a year from now!)

I’d been considering the purchase of an iPad for several weeks and a recent trip to the annual Chorus America Conference in San Francisco helped “push me over the edge!”  I saw many conference attendees using iPads to take notes, view videos, share apps, and assorted other activities that helped enhance their conference experience.  I heard discussions about how there might be a time in the future when our choral singers will have all their music on an iPad, or some form of electronic tablet.  Not so many years ago, such an idea would have been unthinkable, and now it appears all this could be just around the corner.

There are many folks already exploring fascinating and creative ways to use electronic media to improve our choral music experience, and I know you could do a much better job than I at writing this blog.   I therefore invite you now to share some of your ideas, either of things already being done (and the apps that perhaps make them possible), or dreams you may have of how technology could be used in the future.  I’m listening!

Say What?

One of my mid-summer resolutions is to post entries to my blog with a bit more regularity, and you can help me with this.  While it is called Michael’s Musings, I’ve always wanted this blog to be, in addition to my own thoughts about choral music, a forum for you to discuss what is important to you in the entire panoply of the choral art.  Therefore, I’m asking for your help in formulating some of the topics for this coming season’s blog.  Tell me what you’d like to see discussed in this space.  It might be a topic in which you’re interested in hearing my take on the matter, or you might be even more interested in hearing what your fellow readers/singers have to say.  Whatever it is, throw me some ideas.  I look forward to generating some conversation!

Technology and Me

For several years I’ve been an enthusiastic iPod user.  I listen to music, books, and podcasts, and currently have 47.64 GB stored (out of 160 GB available).  That 47.64 GB translates into 32.7 days of possible listening, or 885 hours if you’d like to think of it that way.  As if that weren’t keeping me busy enough, I’ve now added an iPhone to my technical arsenal, and I’m afraid I’m hooked.  The apps are much too enticing and I’ve already added more of them than I need, although I’ve had this little addictive iPhone less than a month!

Still, I suppose there are two apps that have taken most of my time and only one of them happens to be musical.  The non-musical one is Scrabble, my favorite game of all time.  My win rate is currently 80% against the computer and I expect that to remain the same until I allow the computer to increase its skill level!  The musical app is Pandora radio and I’ve had a ball listening to that.  The listening possibilities on my iPod have evidently not been enough, for I’m now selecting from an array of Pandora stations (all created by me I might add).  I often select a “quick mix” that might create a lineup of artists such as:  Frank Sinatra, Vaughan Williams, Neil Sedaka, J.S. Bach, Ella Fitzgerald, Danny & the Juniors, etc.   With this cornucopia of listening pleasures provided by my iPod and iPhone, I’m afraid my extensive CD and LP collections have been sadly neglected of late. 

As a musician, I’m thrilled to have this listening potential available at the push of a button, especially when I compare it to what was possible at the beginning of my “listening career” so many years ago (six LPs and an FM radio station that broadcast two hours of classical music daily).  And yet, I must say that even with all the entertaining and instructive hours of music available to me today, nothing satisfies me like a choral rehearsal filled with persons committed to making the most beautiful music possible.  I am fortunate to have several possibilities such as that each week, and for that I am eternally grateful.  For me, and I hope for others, “recorded” music will never take the place of “live” music.

Choral Memories

These past several weeks I’ve been especially impressed to see and hear the 170 or so persons who have chosen to participate in The Michael O’Neal Summer Singers (MOSS).   The background of these singers is varied, ranging from novice singers to seasoned professionals.  However, it is this wide difference in experience that, for me, makes MOSS one of my most satisfying conducting ventures of the year.  I see MOSS as a sterling example of choral music at its essence; creating something beautiful and meaningful as a group, and something we could never do as individuals.  It reminds us of the Gestalt theory in which we recognize that the “whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”  Choral music has provided me with so many wonderful experiences over the years, some of which were musical and some emotional, but often a combination of both.  Many times the experience has been shared with my fellow singers, although there have been instances where the group involvement has led to a very singular and personal experience. 

 All of this that I have mentioned above has created for me a lifetime of choral memories, and it is hard to imagine my life without them.  I sense that most of you who take the time to read my little “musings” in this blog have had many meaningful choral memories as well.  I wish you would share them in this space, not only as an opportunity to pay tribute to the memory, but also as a way to share with other interested persons why we all love choral music.  These memories could be based on something that happened in your childhood or as recently as last year.  I look forward (we all look forward) to hearing what you have to say.

Choral Music Impacts Our Lives

Chorus America is a national organization that supports the work of choral groups (especially independent choruses) around the country.  The Michael O’Neal Singers has been a proud member of Chorus America for many years.  In 2009 Chorus America commissioned a study of the impact of choruses and choral singing in our American life.  There were four key findings:

Finding #1 – Choral singing continues to be the most popular form of participation in the performing arts.   There are an estimated 32.5 million adults regularly singing in choruses today and 42.6 million Americans overall (including children).

Finding #2 – Adults who sing in choruses are remarkably good citizens.  Chorus members are avid patrons of the arts, they volunteer significantly more frequently than the general public, they contribute much more financially to philanthropic organizations than the average American, and they exhibit greater civic leadership than their fellow Americans.

Finding #3 – Children who sing in choruses have academic success and valuable life skills.  Children who sing in choruses get significantly better grades in school, they are more likely to possess qualities conducive to learning and development, e.g., good memory, good practice and homework habits, and high levels of creativity, and finally, they are better team players and have more advanced social skills.

Finding #4 – The decline in choral singing opportunities for children and youth is a key area for concern.  More than one in four educators say there is no choir program in their schools and one in five parents say there are no choir opportunities for their children in their communities. 

Obviously, the first three findings are excellent news for those of us who love choral music, while the fourth finding is distressing, especially in light of the first three.  I would encourage everyone who cares about the future of choral music to spread the information obtained from this study.  It provides an opportunity to express pride in the impact of the choral artistic effort, and also gives a chance to encourage actions that will foster choral growth for generations to come.  A copy of the full Chorus Impact Study is available from Chorus America at www.chorusamerica.org.

Living in the Moment

I’ve recently been considering how important it is to “live in the moment.”  We’ve all heard the cliché about how yesterday is past and tomorrow may never come – today is what we have.  Taken at too simple a level we can all understand the silliness of such a comment.  If we don’t learn from the past (including both failures and successes) and if we don’t plan for the future we are destined to lead a rather pointless existence.  Still, we’ve all been guilty at one time or another of dwelling way too much on yesterday or dreaming an inordinate amount of time about tomorrow.  So much so that we often miss the beauty of today.  I think little children get it best.  In observing my youngest granddaughter (age 3) I can see how she lives totally “in the moment” and is joyful most of the time.

Would that it could be so easy for all of us, but obviously that can’t be so.  As adults we have regrets about the past and worries about the future that crowd in on our daily lives, crushing much of our potential joy.  Still, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could somehow recapture some of the joy of a child?  Over the years one of the most satisfying comments I have heard from members of my choral organizations is that our weekly two hour rehearsals provide such an intense period of concentration on a single activity (singing) that daily cares seem to evaporate during that period.  I’m sure this doesn’t happen for everyone, and not even all the time for anyone, but what a goal! 

Have you found that choral rehearsals sometimes enable you to temporarily put aside your cares and concerns?  How do feel after a particularly inspiring or invigorating rehearsal?   Does “living in the moment” become easier through your singing?  Share your story.

Unity Through Song

I had the unique opportunity this past weekend to host, with my church choir, a Unity Concert which was a culmination of a month-long Roots Festival in honor of Black History Month. I would like to share with you the comments I made at the beginning of the program. While they are not specific to choral music, I believe we were all reminded that evening of the sense of togetherness that singing can provide. It was a special evening for all in attendence.

I was born and raised in Bowling Green, Kentucky.  It was neither a fully southern nor a fully northern town.  But I can remember, as a young boy, water fountains marked for “white” and for “colored.”  I remember also that only the “white” fountains had cold water.  I remember the separate rest room facilities for blacks and whites.  I remember buses where the blacks moved to the rear of the vehicle to be seated.  I remember all of this, still with shame today, although at the age of nine or ten it was impossible to know how to change these things.  I only knew they were wrong.  During my junior year in high school, I had the opportunity and privilege to welcome five very brave black students who chose to leave their own high school and become the first students to integrate our previously all white academic and social environment.  I am thankful that one of those young black men became a close friend during our two years together.  I remember several years later a college choir tour from Kentucky to Florida, in which we stopped for a meal at a restaurant south of Macon, Georgia.  I remember the sixty of us in the choir, including our one black member, now a professional singer and teacher in NYC, all getting off the bus and walking in to enjoy a meal and fellowship before continuing on our journey.  I remember our being told that the black “boy” would need to go to the kitchen to receive his meal.  I remember also that we all immediately left our seats and returned to the bus together.  We were no longer hungry.

These were certainly little things in some ways, and the small steps taken by some of us can not even begin to compare with the much larger steps taken by others over the years.  And now, all these steps, both large and small have led us to a day in our nation’s history in which we have an African American President.  All of us, no matter what our political leanings, can and should be proud of this fact and that our children, black, white and all shades in between, can now see a world of possibilities for which many of us only dared to dream not so many years ago.

I am thankful that our Roswell Roots Festival is able to culminate in this Unity Concert tonight, a concert that celebrates both our diversity and our unity.  I believe it to be a wondrous thing that our various gifts, talents, backgrounds and interests can all come together in a period of true sharing and unity.  May this evening be a catalyst for us to seek even more opportunities, all year long and not just during the month of February, to discover ways to live and work together, to respect and love each other, and in so doing become more fully human and more like the persons which our God longs for us to be.

Words! Words! Words!

I’ve spoken about the power of words before, and the subject is on my mind again today.  The current issue of The New Yorker includes a retrospective of fifty years of John Updike’s contributions to that magazine.   In reading the words of this recently deceased American icon, I was struck again and again with the eloquence and beauty of his language, and was reminded that I have always loved words.  In fact, had I not dedicated my life to choral music I suspect I might have naturally gravitated toward a career of teaching English and American literature. 

All that being said, I spend a lot of time reading (much of it admittedly in audio form as I spend two hours daily in my car), and the bulk of what I’m reading these days consists of university level courses from The Teaching Company, Inc. and various nonfiction works, most recently Blink by Malcolm Gladwell.   I very much believe that the “workout” my mind receives from all that reading/listening helps prepare me to better understand and be attentive to the words that are such an integral ingredient of choral music. 

In recent rehearsals of Mozart’s Requiem I have spent a fair amount of time talking about the meaning of the words we are singing, not just general translations of the Latin phrases, but in many cases even actual word for word translations.  It is my firm belief that the more we really understand the text we are singing, the more we are able to impart to the audience, and also to ourselves. 

What are your thoughts about the importance of words in choral music?  Do you have any stories about how a certain text in a choral piece has spoken in a profound way to you?   I’m interested in hearing from you.