AD-D

(Artist Date-Date)
I've just returned from my second artist date. I went to hear the local community chorus sing Rachmaninoff's "All-Night Vigil." The whole town must have turned out. The concert was held in a big old Catholic church with fabulous acoustics, and it was literally standing room only. I had to park blocks away. I have a couple of sort-of friends in the group, but the main reason it occured to me to check it out, beyond the obvious artist date potential, was that "singing choral music" came up on the list of twenty things I enjoy, something I hadn't done in ten years, and I've been thinking of joining this group.

They were wonderful. The piece is completely a capella, which is so lovely; I was reminded what an enchanting instrument the human voice is. I chose the piano as my favorite instrument in the "Detective Work" excercise this week, but now that I think about it, I was taking the question too literally - the voice is my favorite by far. Listening to this large group reminded me how heavenly it was to sing in such a context, especially (believe it or not) in some of my high school experiences. I got the opportunity to sing in large district and all-state choirs, and there were moments when I felt we were all being lifted right off the risers by angel wings we didn't know we had. I was lifted, anyway. Anyone remember those cheaply pressed LPs they used to sell to all the parents? We'd sign up and pay in advance, and a month or six weeks later a stiff record album that was likely designed to withstand only a handful of playings would arrive in the mail. I not only still have the record from my first district chorus experience, I still listen to it. I have included a couple of the songs on mixes, so I can hear them again and again without wearing out the fragile, brittle whatever-the-heck-they-used. That concert was one of my all-time best musical experiences.

And tonight reminded me of it. A little. Enough. I've been singing S H music for the past eleven years, and there the only dynamic is LOUD. This is part of the great fun of singing S H, but tonight I was reminded how exciting double forte can be when it's used sparingly, as one startlingly gorgeous color standing out in a rich tapestry of hues. And speaking of color, I decided while listening that part of the reason I love Russian composers so much is that they write music that somehow features more of the dark, rich, nuanced colors I love so. It was all blood red, deep deep teal, earthen brown and vibrant gold tonight. And when the chorus exploded into one of those stunning double fortes, it was like a volcano of light erupting into the gothic arches. You know the part toward the end of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," after his heart grows three sizes, when he finds the strength of ten Grinches, plus two? Remember how the sky behind him looks as he lifts the sled with the ginormous sack over his head, as Max dangles happily from a runner? It sounded like that.

Guess it's time to join the chorus, huh? Huh-DOE-EY.

I had another artist date this week, too. Somewhat impromptu. I've been thinking that going to the bead store downtown would be a good one, but it's-a-pain-to-park-and-I-didn't-want-to-spend-money-and-I-didn't-want-to-
be-around-the-other-bead-store-patrons-and-the-staff-and-- who knows why else I was resisting going. The universe tricked me into it by making the only available tickets for the chorus concert be at a bookstore downtown. I looked at a book about trees while I was in there that was really neat, but I was paid up for an hour in the garage... and I needed a replacement dangly tine for a favorite pair of earrings; I had a reason to go to the bead store which had been on my list of things to take care of for, like, a year. I sighed and headed over.

When I first entered the store a song was playing on the overhead that I have only heard in one other context: while driving my old boss (the one who rashly fired me for no good reason two days before Christmas) to and from business meetings. She had this irritating mix of irritating songs that she'd play on endless loop in the car. This song was the most... irritating. I felt my shoulders tense. But I recognized right away that that gave my old boss and that unfortunate work situation power over me in a way, power that I really didn't need to give away, especially since I am SO FRIGGIN' HAPPY about not working. I closed my eyes for a second and I sent her a little blessing, which is the only way I know to get free of anything and everything. I felt much better.

The perky staff member I approached told me they didn't carry the replacement earring part I needed, but the next song on the PA was one I had strongly positive associations with. It's on the Cold Mountain soundtrack, which I got to sing on as an S H singer. It was by Allison Krauss, whom I had sung with on stage several times, including at the Academy Awards, as part of that experience. As an S H singer, not a performer. Believe me, there's a difference. But obviously, these were wonderful and special experiences. This week is about recovering a sense of power, right? Well, this seemed to be happening right there in the bead store. I had been sychronicitied into being there, and they didn't have what I needed, but I'd just been sent a pair of blessings in a span of about three minutes, so I stayed. Happily.

Turns out they have cool toys there, too. Classic toys. I picked out a paddle ball game with a nice, thick, unwarped paddle and a high-quality, wrapped (replacable!) rubber string. For less than three dollars. Then there was the classic tin kaleidoscope, beautiful outside and in, for seven. I picked up some wire for whenever I did find a replacement tine for my special earring. And oh, what the heck - make it a spool. I like making earrings too. Haven't done that in awhile. I found some gorgeous huge shell hoop earrings that are going to make my ensembles sing this summer. For less than ten dollars. Happy songs continued to play. And THEN... then, it hit me: I didn't need to replace the lost tine with the exact same part. There were five dangling tines per earring in that pair, which of course I was wearing, to be safe. Maybe there was some other little dangly thing that would balance them again but would make them special. I looked at all the little dangly things I could find, and settled on a tiny butter knife, just the right size. It's like one of those hidden pictures in Highlights magazine - it's not immediately noticeable, but like a happy little secret to stumble on. Like a wink. Of course I love the earrings even more now; they're one-of-a-kind.

Oh, and I got back to my car that day at Exactly the time on my parking slip. And tonight as I left the concert, my finicky magical trick dashboard lights were lit. The end.