When I got the Indigo Girls' album, Rarities, I was surprised to find that they'd done a version of Jean Sibelius' Finlandia. They had sung it with new words, of course - I wouldn't expect them to use the Finnish words, or the English hymn version. One of my favorite classical composers sung by my favorite folk/rock group - how likely is that?!
I always get teary when I hear Finlandia because it reminds me of my father.
This is one likely spot where I am today. It's only likely; we never plan these things out ahead of time.
Dear husband is in Chicago, at the CCHIT conference, this week (I'm always amazed that they kept that acronymn!). He had some time yesterday to go to the Art Institute of Chicago, and, of course, he was going to see George Seurat's A Sunday on La Grande Jatte. That, in turn, leads me again to Stephen Sondheim, Mandy Patinkin, Bernadette Peters, and the cast of Sunday in the Park with George singing Sunday:
I've never understood wanting to spend a beautiful afternoon sitting in a football stadium watching a game. I'd usually prefer to be gardening or hiking. However, I came a bit closer to understanding that today because we spent a beautiful evening sitting at an outdoor theater watching the Indigo Girls.
Previously, I've had a chance to see almost all of my long-time, absolutely most favorite performers: James Galway (4 times), Cleo Laine, Värttinä, Itzhak Perlman, Patti LuPone, Mandy Patinkin, Saffire: The Uppity Blues Women, Dar Williams, Nanci Griffith, and Maura O'Connell. The only ones of this group of favorites that I hadn't seen were the Indigo Girls. When they came here we were either out of town or had dance performances.
I've been looking forward to tonight's concert since I found out they were coming. I was sick last week, and, by Friday, I was wondering if dear husband should go with older son and daughter instead. I was better by today, and, by the time we got there, I was very excited.
The concert, of course, was fantastic. They were enthusiastic, and they had the audience sing along on various songs (you can imagine how much I loved that! (grin)). I'm often surprised at audiences, though. I'm used to classical music audiences the most - you go, sit quietly, and pay attention. I know that's not the case for other genres of music, but I was amazed at how much talking and wandering around many people did. I wanted to get every drop of music out of the concert, and not miss a single bit! - well, except for one song which had a death in the first verse, a suicide in the second, and which I listened to while going and buying a bag and a bumper sticker. I hurried back, though, because the next song was one of my favorites, Southland in the Spring.
I did cry when they sang... not my favorite song, necessarily, but the song that has the most memories tied to it. One year, I put a folk tape together for our October vacation, and we played it on the way to Linville Falls in the Blue Ridge Mountains. As we got there and turned in, Watershed played. I had it in my head for the next few hours, and tied it to that spot. We've often played that tape on the way, and, if we start it as we leave Blowing Rock, Watershed plays at Linville. We picnic at and wade in the safe part of the Linville River (right - I'm in light blue; daughter's in darker blue). It's beautiful and peaceful, and most people miss the overlook we wade at because they're in a hurry to get to the falls. It's one of the places we go to for my birthday.
I wished we had gotten there a bit earlier to get a space closer to the stage.* We were not in the most enthusiastic part of the crowd; in fact, the people in front of us didn't even clap a good bit of the time (too busy talking, I guess). We made up for them. I sort of thought of it as the slow zone.
By the encores, however, even the people in front of us got on their feet and were dancing. We were doing the same, and singing at the top of our lungs. The Indigo Girls had invited everyone to sing, which was such fun! Here's a video of them singing Closer to Fine with Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines, and Julie Wolf - they sang this as the first encore with Matt Nathanson, one of the earlier performers. This isn't the best video of the song, but it captures the concert energy better than any of the others I found:
* We actually did get there earlier. After going to a symphony concert there two years ago and seeing how nicely people made picnics, daughter got a lovely picnic together to eat while we listened to the other performers before the Indigo Girls (this was a Carolina Hopefest benefit). Unfortunately, unlike the symphony concerts held at the same place, you can't bring food inside. We ended up eating our picnic near the entrance - along with two other people we met from church who had also brought a nice dinner.
Older son returned the picnic stuff to the van while we went in and set up the chairs. Daughter couldn't understand why it took a while for him to find us: "You just look for the two of us with long hair!" Older son replied that most of the women there had either really short or really long hair! Also, most of them used minimal or no makeup and dressed in either jeans and t-shirts or hippie type clothes. We felt at home.
I'm so tired I can barely write this. It's nice to be tired from doing something rather than just from medicines.
For the first time since before my knee surgery, I took a dance class today. Daughter and I went to the intermediate teen/adult jazz class.* Of course, I had to be very careful of my knee. Beyond that, though, I was surprised at how strong my legs are (from walking and swimming).
I'm so unused to choreography, now, that I found that very challenging. I also have to adjust the choreography for my knee so that makes it more complicated. Daughter told me afterwards that everyone found it challenging. I wasn't really paying attention to the others in the class - all but one of whom are teens. The one other adult is at least 15 years younger than I am. I'm also unused to doing anything this intense. I really had to watch my heart rate.
I stopped 45 minutes into the class. I was losing my focus, and that's when I could injure myself.
When I got home, my muscles all informed me that they despised me. I'm amazed at how many different muscles there are in one's back. I'm so tired that sitting up seems like a challenge.
I'm happy.
At one point, 35 minutes into the class, I almost stopped. I was having a difficult time with some of the choreography. Then she put the music on, and I had to continue. How could I not dance to Pink?! Once we were doing the choreography to the music, I was able to get it. Here's the song, Funhouse, from the album of the same name ("Step, kick, step, kick, step, side kick, step, back kick/hop DON'T HOP, step..."):
You probably won't be surprised that, when my kids were younger, singing them bedtime songs was one of my favorite parts of our daily routine. You also probably won't be surprised that most of the bedtime songs were not traditional ones. I did sing some more more normal kid songs - Over in the Meadow, Stay Awake, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star - but I sang anything that was fun, particularly folk and Broadway songs.
At one of her teen Broadway dance classes, daughter once ended up explaining the story of Pippin to the other students who'd never heard of it. She was surprised because, as she said, she "grew up with these people" (Edited, of course). The songs from Pippin were some of my favorite ones to sing at bedtime. I had a whole book of Broadway songs that I sang from for daughter, and I got more books of them out of the library. Older son's songs were more evenly split between Broadway and folk, and, for younger son, I ended up making up songs (such as "Puppies, flying their space ships/fighting the bad guys/Puppies in space" sung to the Star Wars theme)(Try it).
Younger son decided, about a year ago, that he was too old for bedtime songs. Unfortunately, I wasn't, but we stopped. We still talk at bedtime until I'm so tired I can't respond anymore - everyone else is in bed or winding down so he likes to have that time.
After three verses about her teenage years and choruses sung to her mother, in the fourth verse of Honest Lullaby, Joan Baez sings to her son: "You've already lived near half the years you'll be when you go away."
I first hear this song when older son was that age (a bit younger than 9). Now, this part applies to younger son, who is 10:
Now look at you, you must be growing A quarter of an inch a day You've already lived near half the years You'll be when you go away With your teddy bears and alligators Enterprise communicators All the tiny aviators head into the sky...
I watch, online, as busy friends send their kids off to their freshman years. One brought her daughter to college last weekend, another is heading North with her son, another is traveling with her daughter today. Older son is at his first day of classes. There's a certain, unspoken camaraderie as I talk with the other mothers. I'll get this again with a different set of friends in a year when daughter goes to college.
I know I have it easy. Older son worked for a few years after high school so we had more time for all sorts of things. He's commuting to college so we still get to see him some evenings and weekends - depending on how busy he is. But things will change from the way they've been for twenty-one and a half years. The long lunchtime conversations during the week that I have with the older two are gone, at least until next summer. Smiling at him while he eats breakfast on the porch and I water flowers - only on weekends. Being able to wander around the Triangle to gardens, historic sites, other neat places, ducking into bakeries or ice cream stores - only on weekends, if he has the time.
That, of course, is as it should be. He was printing out the syllabus to his Western Literature course last night: The Epic of Gilgamesh, The Aeneid, Hamlet, Tolstoy, Kafka's Metamorphosis... It looks like lots of fun. I've had a great time just hearing about all of his orientation and "Welcome Week" activities. It's a time of rejoicing for what he'll be doing - all the new opportunities and experiences. But, it's also a time of tears for me, though I try to keep them to the edges of the day when no one else is around (I'm writing this at 1:17 am).
Homeschooling him was a grand adventure, and he's now embarking on another one.
...And sometimes spend a day with you
I'll catch you as you fly
Or if I'm worth a mother's salt
I'll wave as you go by
And if you should ever wonder
How the years and you'll survive
Honey, you've got a mother who sings to you
Dances on the strings for you
Opens her heart and brings to you
An honest lullaby
[To listen to this song from Facebook, click here.]
[Grasshopper photo taken by older son this week. I found it while uploading Bloom Day photos.]
Yesterday, I was listening this song, over and over, on my mp3 player while taking a walk and composing a blog post.
Mary Martin originally was considered for the part of Mame, and forty other actresses were also considered for the part. Angela Lansbury, who was not known for musicals at that time, eventually got it, and won a Tony award.
There are a number of movies from the 70's that I've tried to rewatch and haven't enjoyed (i.e. "9 to 5"). I was worried that I would feel the same way about "Fame." We watched it tonight, and I still enjoy it!
"Fame" came out the summer before I went to the NC School of the Arts (for college). NCSA wasn't like the fictional school, but it did have a similar sort of energy generated by students who were passionate about what they were doing. Lunches were never like this, though:
I'll start with my own reaction. Yes, I could tell that she was not what the crowd would consider "star material." To me, however, she looked like a fun person to know. She was confident, joked about herself, did a little hip swirl - she seemed quite real, quite there. She wasn't putting on some facade and trying to impress. She seemed the sort of person I would like to talk to.
Then she sang "I Dreamed a Dream," and I got teary. Why (besides the fact that that song makes me teary anyway)? Because she confounded the expectations and because she was living her own dream.
Does this "story" teach that we shouldn't judge a person's potential for talent based on appearance or does it actually reinforce the notion that someone who looks frumpy couldn't possibly have a star-quality singing voice? In other words, if it wasn't a big deal that she could maybe sing, then why is it such a big deal that she can sing? Am I missing something? Or is the story just about the viewer feeling superior to the live audience? Or is that just the video's editor playing up audience reactions for effect?
Some people in the audience were sneering. For instance, consider the teenager rolling her eyes for all of Britain (and now all the world) to see? I would think that, at this point, her parents would want to crawl under a rock. However, I don't really want to believe that the whole audience was against her because I don't want to believe that that many people could be so shallow!
Older son and I were talking about the audience reaction the other evening. If she went out with a violin and said she wanted to be the next Jascha Heifetz, most people wouldn't have the same reaction. She'd be considered an "instrumental geek," who was too tied up in her art to worry about appearances. Singing seems to be different, however. There, all of a sudden, you have to be conventionally beautiful.
Older son was in the Orange Community Players' performance of "The Music Man" last summer (a bit about it here). He had such a great time that I decided I'd think seriously about trying out for this year's production. This summer, they'll be doing "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat," and I've decided to audition for the chorus. Auditions are the next three days.*
I'm having a difficult time figuring out what to sing. I was thinking of singing I'm Beginning to See the Light because I'm very familiar with it. I sang it years ago as a bedtime song for daughter. However, I can't get it to sound right.
The problem is that I usually sing Broadway/jazz songs either while driving or at Broadway dance. I still can't drive much, and I haven't done Broadway dance since my knee operation. Basically, I've sung very little Broadway for four months! On the other hand, I've been in choir and taking voice lessons all along so I'm used to choral/classical singing at this point - which is very strange for me! "Beginning to See the Light" shouldn't sound "choral," but I can't make it not!(especially when it goes high).
I didn't have any other immediate ideas so, after fruitlessly going through my Broadway songbooks, I started going through the songs on my mp3 player to see if something inspired me.
Now, I'm considering either singing Shall We Dance from The King and I or "I'll Build a Stairway to Paradise" from An American in Paris. Here's the performance of Stairway (by Dutch singer/actress, Issy Van Randwyck from the album, Glory of Gershwin) which inspired me:**
