so this should be my very last post about recording last week. i know, i’ve been obsessively writing about it. well. that’s what i do. i document. someone said that about my photography too. my grandmother said once that i was like Robert Burns (she was Scottish, and loved him, of course) because i could write a poem about just about anything (and told people to be careful what they told me, as i might write about it). well, i can’t help it.

so tuesday evening we began recording. the mikes were all set up, everyone was ready and there was definite nervousness and tension in the air. but it was a good kind of stress. we warmed up a bit, talked about WATCHING the conductor, etc. then off to the stage, filing on as the orchestra began filing in too. lots of percussion and brass in the pieces, as well as soloists, so the stage was jam-packed. i happened to be next to the gong and chimes, and wished at a few points that wasn’t true–had to plug one ear it was so loud.

we began with the 4 shorter pieces (one was just orchestral). the first take began, the whole piece through. at the end, this deep male voice came from out of the ether to tell us how we did, what we might improve, etc.

i don’t think anyone was expecting that–the disembodied voice from above. it was the sound engineer in the room backstage, talking to the conductor and to us. we all laughed, calling it the voice of god. well, he sure was knowledgeable about the music and choral singing, it seemed.

what was markedly different was the level of energy required of us during this time. every eye had to be focused, support at the right level, every consonant perfect, vowel sounds, entrances, cut-offs. there had to be no movement or sound at all before each take and after, to let the sound fade so there would be no artificial cutting off in the recording.

i think those were my favorite moments. it was as if we were in suspended animation. i’ve never heard it so quiet in the hall. no audience noise, no movement of even a bow. no transfer of weight (and when it inadvertently happened, you HEARD it). no coughing, no rustle of papers, nothing. even if at no other time, we were completely together in those moments.

we did take after take, sometimes just this part or that part. sometimes the same thing over and over. i think the first night, we did a better job of staying focused and singing with energy. we even got to the 5th piece, which was unexpected.

evening number two: rain, sleet, ice, then snow. people were late for the session. they had to give us a 20 minute break right at the beginning because one of the french horns wasn’t there yet. he eventually wandered in, looking sheepish, but considering the number of cars in ditches on the way in (as reported by the members) no one could be angry with him.

this night was reserved for Passage Into Spirit. people were of course, more tired, the weather made for extra stress, and the piece itself was so much more demanding and intricate. lots of takes of small sections. the chorus really wasn’t together in a few places, and you could see Mr. Bass getting frustrated. well. who could blame him for that? he still remained poised, despite clearly being annoyed with the men at one point for not watching him (they deserved his consternation). many conductors at that point would throw a fit. he did not. kudos to him. the women were not together in a bunch of places too, don’t get me wrong.

they gave us multiple breaks (as per union contract with the orchestra–more breaks when recording due to the intense nature of it–and they were definitely needed) and we’d mill about, some eating, some talking, some sitting quietly by themselves, or running off to the bathroom (one time when i really really had to go i almost knocked over the very tall principal trumpet player on my way out the stage door–oops!)

finally, after about 80 or so takes, we finished the work. because of the lack of focus at points, we continued to hammer out those places until everyone was satisfied. the voice of god seemed happy with what we’d done, and Bass agreed.

it was a relief, but also sort of a downer, to be finished. what? there’s no more?

a little cake and conversation following the last night, and signing a little book someone had passed around, so we could all share with the composer, our thoughts.

i actually managed to get through the whole thing without coughing once (sometimes i cough so hard from trying not to cough, that it triggers my asthma and i can’t breathe for a second or two) and without having a spasm in my shoulder (another small miracle).

i walked home both evenings, exhausted, feeling like all i wanted to do was take a shower. it’s not as though i’d had a workout, or even sweated on stage, but i felt like i just used so much energy trying to be perfect, to do my job correctly, that i needed a shower. funny.

i do feel i did a great job individually. there were only a few times (and we ended up re-taping those spots as i wasn’t the only one) when i felt i didn’t do what i was supposed to.

i can’t wait to hear the recording. they said it might take up to 5 months before we can hear it. looking forward to that!

okay, now i think i’m done