Swimming then singing
Today was something of a trip back into my childhood.
Swimming
My dad and I have both recently been advised to take up swimming. I haven’t been for about 4 years, and Dad even longer. I haven’t lived with my parents for nearly a year now, but I’m only a few miles down the road, so we have the opportunity to spend time together, if working or singing doesn’t get in the way. And the fact that I live in my own household and receive no financial support from them means that they respect my independence. But hey, I’m still their baby.
Dad and I ended up in the small swimming baths he first took me to when I was five. I was overly worried about the effect that the water would have on me. Would my eyes go red? Would my hair go blue? Would my skin peel? And once in the water, what then? My nervousness was palpable. But after the girl on the desk had laughed at our age difference, we were allowed in the pool.
And it was great! I had so much fun! I didn’t know I could still swim, so it came as a shock that I was actually making progress through the water with some style to my movement, not just random thrashings of limbs. But the best moment of the afternoon, by far the best, was watching with pride as my dad did two lengths of the pool. I can imagine how he felt when I was little and he used to watch me achieve things. Dad hasn’t swum in years and needs to shift some of the excess weight he’s gained after years of doing a pretty motionless job. I was just sitting at the side, watching him do a length, thinking please, please get to the end and then he got to the end and turned round - I actually cried. So now I am aching but happy, and he is full of a sense of self-achievement, and a bit fitter to boot.
Singing
Then this evening I sang in a service at the church I went to from birth. The first thing that struck me was just how accurately I had remembered every detail of the place. I was singing two pieces during the service, and one at the end. The theme of the service being "Faithfulness" I decided to sing He shall feed his flock / Come unto him from Messiah, a good choice in the end, as the vicar had included the passage in his sermon. I wasn’t sure what to do alongside this, but considering how illness has impacted on my practicing recently, I decided on Vivaldi Domine Deus as it’s been working for me for years. But there are other reasons why I chose these pieces. Having wanted to finish with Bob Chilcott’s Irish Blessing (the most lush blessing out there, set for 4 parts but a good solo too. If you have a choir then sing it! Because it’s wonderful) I couldn’t find the music this morning, and so shoved The Lord bless you and keep you into my bag, thinking that it would do just as well.
The organist had never seen the piece. This amazes me. I think every choir in the land sings The Lord bless you and keep you, it’s just one of those gorgeous, easy pieces. So I had to scrap this idea as it’s in about 25 flats. The Domine Deus is in C and I can get away with singing it slowly, and the Messiah piece is slow, easy (for him), and he’d probably played it before. So I sang these, and was quite happy with how they went. The Messiah was emotional for me, I was thinking of the wonderful friend and organist who taught me the piece when I was 13. He died nearly five years ago and not once have I sung that piece without thinking of him. But the rational side of the brain was also loving exploring the alto range with those deep middle Cs. I ended up finishing on the Pie Jesu from the Fauré Requiem, which was beyond how I was feeling, but easy for the organist to play. My voice momentarily gave and I started doing crescs and dims for effect, and breathing everywhere, to try and make up for my split-second of croak, all the while dreading it coming back. The Pie Jesu is one of the most uplifting, concentrated, and difficult pieces I know and I suppose really I shouldn’t have sung it.
Vocal misbehaviour
During the service, there was unprecedented clapping, and people were complimentary afterwards and I’ve increased people’s knowledge of me locally. But deep down there’s a guilt inside me. As I’ve explained I’ve not seen enough of my teacher recently, with not having anything to work up to. But I’ve been misbehaving in other ways too. Mostly too many smokey nights out, neglecting my general health and well-being, and a lack of general practice and keeping my voice "toned", I suppose you could call it. Last time I lost my voice and my desire to sing, it was because I wasn’t practising even once a week, and the voice just died, the muscle memory disappeared and I had to start again from scratch. The least I could do is a few exercises now and again - when I’m singing best is usually when I’m doing a warm-up every day, even if I’m not stretching so much. Oh, how I envy those people who have the time and facility to sing every day, or just whenever they want to.
I need to stop misbehaving. I’ve been told by assorted people over these last few days "Look after that voice of yours" and I have nodded politely, with my plastic, post-concert smile. But tonight a lady said it to me in such a way that it seemed she was expressing concern for how self-destructive I’m in danger of becoming. The key is to keep singing, to keep going. So on Sunday I’m going to a City of Manchester Opera rehearsal, even though I can’t be in the next few concerts because I’m away. I just need to sing - shame I’m having to push myself though.
But on a happier note - 5 days til Budapest!
Despina dell’Acqua x
