This column is about exploits into the unknown. The idea is for a reporter go out and do something he or she hasn't done before, then write about it from a first person point of view. It's a departure from our usual outside-looking-in way of covering the news - a nice change for us and, hopefully, for our readers. In this story, the subject isn't completely unknown to me, but it certainly is a jump into the deep end.
Each summer for the past 16 years, the Battlefords has become a destination for singers, choral directors and accompanists, young and otherwise, to learn more about their particular passions from some highly skilled clinicians and coaches. It's the Summer School for the Solo Voice. Founded by an internationally acclaimed opera singer who makes her home in our midst, it's perhaps better known outside of our community than it is inside. Faculty and students come from across Canada and, this year, even from England in the form of one of the UK's most famous accompanists.
School founder Lisa Hornung has agreed for me to join the choral program with the view to writing a story about the experience. I have had some training as a singer in the past, although I am certainly no solo singer. It also helps that I can music in a basic way, but it's a meagre background compared to most of the people who attend SSSV. I will probably be the least experienced, least trained and certainly most rusty of all the singers in the choir, including the eight-year-olds, It's rather like putting a chicken in with the parakeets, I think, which is why this "exploit" qualifies as "into the unknown."
You're welcome to follow along as I spend a week in a choir where, as the Meota Men's Choir sings, "everybody has a place."
Day 1
Noon. Registration time for Summer School for the Solo Voice. Third Avenue United Church Logie Hall is bustling as singers and musicians line up to pay their dues and fill out their forms. I've visited SSSV numerous times in the past as a reporter, but today I'm also a participant in this prestigious summer school. Used to being an observer, I don't get in line to register. But Lisa chases me down with a medical form, and Jaki chases me with a name and address form. Oops, I guess I should have stood in line after all.
1 to 2 p.m.
I'm all signed up and it's choir placement time. I must sing for the choir director so he can assign me to one of six possible vocal parts. I find myself standing in front of one of the most sought-after choral directors in the world with no choice but to open my mouth and sing. At the back of my mind is the worry that this "feel the fear and do it anyway" experiment could end right here, very suddenly, calling for an emergency trip to my denturist. Carefully, I warble some reasonably accurate notes. They grow less accurate and more unlovely as I continue, but everything stays intact, to my relief. Thankfully, Laurence Ewashko is a gracious man. He is aware that I am a reporter and treats me kindly. I am assigned a part as a second alto, that's fourth from the top.
2 to 3:15 p.m.
The entire student body and most of the staff is gathered in Logie Hall at Third Avenue United Church to sing together for the first time, each with a binder full of music we will be singing at a concert six days from now. We are under the direction of a very famous instructor, who we shall call Laurence because SSSV is informal that way. (If you Google Laurence Ewashko, you will find he was born in Winnipeg and is now a tenured associate professor at the University of Ottawa where he teaches choral techniques, conducts three choirs, teaches vocal repertoire and has a private voice studio. He held the position of music director for the Cantata Singers of Ottawa from 1988 to 2005 and has been engaged as chorus master for Opera Lyra Ottawa since 1988. He has also recorded recitals as baritone soloist for CBC and is in demand as choral clinician, vocal coach, conductor, consultant, guest lecturer and adjudicator. In May of 2003 he was heard in recital singing Schubert's Die Winterreise in Vienna and Ottawa. He has taught voice privately in both Austria and Canada since 1985 and was invited to teach at both the University of Ottawa and McGill University in 2002. He toured with the Vienna Choir Boys in 1998, performing at Carnegie Hall and on the Letterman Show.) Today, Laurence is in charge of close to 80 voices, singing in as many as six parts at a time. I find myself seated with a friend from my barbershop days, Annette Duhaime, the director of Battlefords Blend, and we try to soak up as much as we can of what a conductor of this calibre has to offer. I find the vocal production technique I learned as a barber-shopper is coming back to me. I can still expand my ribcage at will and control my breath reasonably well. Laurence's coaching is filled with helpful instructions, and his conducting style is clear and readable. It should be, I remind myself, considering his credentials. He's also comical, and we have a few giggles. With what seems like an overwhelming 10 songs to prepare for concert in six days, I think my biggest challenge is going to be effectively dividing my attention between my binder and our director. That is, when not swatting the mosquitoes who invade the hall with every opening of the door.
Day 2
9 to 10 a.m.
Morning section practice. The tenors and the sopranos have been sent off to other parts of the building so the altos and basses can hear themselves (just kidding!) and we are left to work in Logie Hall with Laurence. We're singing in the key of C when he tells us we've gone out of tune. When he suggests this is because C is one of the keys that are difficult to keep tuned because the world is no longer spinning in F sharp, I wonder if this is one of those "you have to be a music geek to get it" kind of jokes? Apparently not. He intrigues us with an explanation that goes mostly over my head (something about the rotation of the earth speeding up, so songs written when the world was spinning to F sharp no longer resonate the same), and know I will be Googling it when I get back to the office. We carry on, but we're not always impressive, and Laurence tell us "the greatest sin is boring music." We try harder to be interesting. At one point he offers us his version of how a zombie might sing (more entertaining than you'd think) and reminds us that being "zombiesque" shouldn't be our goal. He acts out a rubber-ducky-in-the-bath explanation of keeping one's vocal energy going. He starts and stops us time and again because he "knows we can do better." Suddenly, surprisingly, the hour is up, and it's time to return to the office, somewhat stunned, having beem reminded of something I'd forgotten - singing is hard work!
1 to 2:15 p.m.
Afternoon choir practice. Aaargh! Awkward use stage! It's the place on the learning curve where it's incredibly tempting to give it all up. As a dance teacher, I've coached and cautioned students of my own through this particular stage, so I know now's not the time to run away screaming. But I can't helping thinking about it. The vocal production part of things doesn't frighten me, but trying to locate the appropriate notes and words from among the conglomeration on the page and sing them from sight, sometimes in Latin, with a German accent no less, is downright distracting. Thankfully, the talented Mayce Achtymichuk is seated in the row behind me. I lock on to her beautiful voice as an audio anchor. Thanks, Mayce! Without you there I might have said "this is more work than any story deserves!"
7 to 7:30 p.m.
Evening recital, a chance to listen, not sing. My sister Jill and I arrive at Logie Hall a few minutes early. SSSV recitals, as well as the Music for the Soul recitals put on by Lisa Hornung and Jaya Hoy, are known to start right on time as per classical music performance etiquette, so there's no dawdling. Saskatoon tenor Spencer McKnight, an SSSV participant, presents the songs with which he intends to impress the judges next month at the national music festival. It proves to be the treat I expected. Spencer, a university student, has been singing only since he was 17 and in a short time he has become a fantastically entertaining singer. Having seen him perform at other times, I am aware he's a more than a bit of a ham, so when he sings the flirty com'e gentil, he gets the looked-for reaction. The applause is loud and long. He is accompanied on piano by Mark Turner, who is on this year's SSSV staff and is the artistic director of the Third Avenue Centre, a non-profit organization with the goal of re-purposing the Saskatoon's Third Avenue United Church building as that city's premier performance space. Not only is he a great accompanist, he is also a very entertaining host, and it's easy to see why Lisa has dubbed him MC for all the week's recitals.
Day 3
9 to 10 a.m.
Tuesday morning section practice. The girls (sopranos and altos) and boys (tenors and basses) are split into two separate rooms. Our leaders for the morning are Joy McFarlane-Burton and Heather McNab. Coincidentally, Joy comes from near my home town, and at one time my then-boyfriend played guitar for some of her performances. Heather comes from Maple Creek, where I have relatives, some of whom, it turns out, she knows. Small world. Again my alto buddies Annette and Mayce, are within earshot, helping me find my way through two more songs I've never before heard. I fear Laurence is going to be breaking up our little group soon, having warned us that he would be "mixing up" the choir at some point. Being able to hold your part while somebody is singing a different part in your ear isn't easy. Normally, I wouldn't worry about being led astray by another part; most of the singing I've ever done has been a harmony part in a group. But I have to admit I'm not feeling too confident in the notes and words. There are just so many of them!
1 to 2:15 p.m.
Afternoon choir practice. I expect to continue with one of the songs we sang this morning. But no. Laurence asks us to pull out yet another piece I've never heard of, again in Latin. He doesn't mention which accent we should use. No need, I suppose, since we aren't singing the words anyway, just "doo doo doo." Although it starts to sound pretty good, it becomes apparent no one else has sung this song before either; my already significant respect for the abilities of these talented people continues to rise. The next song we do isn't one of the morning songs either, but at least it's in English! It goes much better than the Latin piece - for me, anyway. Everybody else sounds great! We spend a lot time on getting our vowels right, as in north and south, not east and west. Laurence wonders if we've noticed his accent. We have. It's not strictly Canadian, even though he was born in Winnipeg. It sounds somewhat European. He explains it is the result of years of singing operatic vowels. He speaks quietly, but everybody listens.
7 - 8 p.m.
Staff recital in the sanctuary. Another chance to sit back and enjoy. The 13 staff of SSSV are amazing. How is it that there can be this much talent in one place at one time and the entire city is not here to witness it? The recital includes an arrangement of the central music of the ballet Spartacus by one of Britain's best known accompanists, Geoffrey Pratley, one of this year's staff. Performed by four incredible pianists on two pianos, it is astounding to take in. The audience comes to its feet at the end of an amazing recital. A free concert that is absolutely priceless. I can only resort to the chat acronym, OMG!
Day 4
9 to 10 a.m.
More choir practice. More new songs! Still lots of words and notes I don't have memorized, but those I do I try to sing with confidence. When those chords ring like they are supposed to and you know you are part of it, there's little that can compare to that feeling of satisfaction. As a singer it feels great, and it sure gets Laurence excited too! Especially when meet the challenge of his direction. After all, as he says, our job is to sing the music, his is to interpret it.
10 to 11 a.m.
This morning we attend a session with otolaryngologist Dr. Gore-Hickman, Clinical Assistant Professor of Surgery at the University of Saskatchewan, a session I've wanted to cover for several years. This doctor is well known to Battlefords residents, and I am particularly grateful to him for saving the hearing in my son's left ear. He also has a special interest in vocal care and physiology as it pertains to the singer and has been holding these educational sessions at SSSV since its beginning. With videos of healthy and diseased vocal cords, it's graphic but extremely interesting and insightful. (See the accompanying story.)
1 to 2:15 p.m.
More choir practice. These chairs are as hard as the music!
Day 5
10 to 11 a.m.
More, more, more singing! We are to be ready for a recital on Saturday. Ready? Not me. I think of it the same way I think of Christmas. It happens whether you're ready or not.
Day 6.
10 to 11 a.m.
I'm tired. How do these people keep up?
1 to 2:15 p.m.
I arrive early to watch some of the musical theatre session. It's hot and humid, but they sing and dance with determination. Heather's up on a chair, urging them on like a stagecoach driver in a western movie. They are all flushed and perspiring profusely. What, I wonder, makes them want to do this to themselves? Ah, yes. Looking back on some of the things I used to do to myself as a dancer, I suppose I understand the answer - even if I can't explain it.
7 p.m.
Evening recital. This I've been waiting for all week. Geoffrey Pratley and Lisa Hornung in concert. I sit in my favourite pew, but what I really want to do is run through the streets yelling "Get your butts in here! Do you have any freaking idea what you're missing? This is world class! Here! In North Battleford! And it's freaking FREE!" (See the accompanying story.)
Day 7
Recital day.
I arrive at Logie Hall for the last preparation session, and I have no clue what's going on. Apparently, I'd missed the morning rehearsal. I have no excuse. For a moment I entertain the idea of bowing out. But, no. After a week of struggling with Latin, legato and lentissimo, not to mention lower back consequences from sitting on those hard chairs, I'm not quitting at the last moment. I hastily sort my music into the right order, interject a moment or two of being a reporter by taking some pictures, then squeeze into my place within the choir that has already assembled for some last minute rehearsal time. I am glad to have been assigned a spot on the floor, not on the risers; I'm not good with heights. I am also glad to have Annette in one ear and Heather in the other. We have a few moments for some rehearsal and a pep talk from Laurence before the doors open and the audience starts filling the hall. We are dismissed to find seats amongst the chairs reserved for the choir.
The entertainment begins. Who cares if it's hot, or that there are mosquitoes buzzing around us, or the chairs are uncomfortable. When extraordinarily talented people are performing works by the likes of Cole Porter, Alan Menken, Mozart, Gilbert and Sullivan and North Battleford's own product, Paul Suchan, all else falls into perspective.
The final performances are by the mass choir. Virtually the entire student body of SSSV, plus some of the staff, takes its place. At Laurence's gesture we raise the binders from where they've been tucked under our right arms in proper choir etiquette. We open them to the first song. Oops! Where's my music? Missing apparently. Well, I do remember some of it. I may end up singing some tenor, soprano or even bass notes along with the alto I am supposed to sing, but I'll still be able to say I sang Mozart in the SSSV choir. The crucial moment arrives when our eyes are on Laurence and only Laurence. He gives us the exact moment to breath in, then let soar the opening notes of our first song. I watch Laurence's direction for timing, stops, starts and breaths. In the back of my mind I think how well he does what he does, how well all of the dedicated SSSV staff do what they do, and how fortunate we are they come here to the Battlefords, willingly underpaid, to share their passion with anyone who wants to take part.
As the last song is sung, I think how rare and special this whole week has been.
I think how lucky I have been to take part.
I think how tired I am.
I think I need a nap.
