Monday, May 3, 2010

Gathering Thunder.

I did a freebie gig last week for the SHARE folks (http://www.share-sn.com) and sang "Leaving" solo, a cappella, standing at audience level. My voice felt like a skittish horse - dashing all over the place with me hanging on for dear life. It's amazing to me how varied an experience it is to sing live, picking up the meaning of the song and letting the audience's mood color the way my voice moves.

I came earlier than I needed to to perform, sitting through the event itself and letting the ideas and stories of the people there gather inside me. "Leaving" is about violence - it's not an easy song to step into - and I wanted to be able to give my best. As a result, by the time I sang I felt like I had gathered a storm inside me, fits of lightening and sudden crashes of thunder as meanings and reasons ran riot.

After I sang I felt like the moment just after a downpour stops, when everything is still dripping and full of motion but somehow gentle. As I drove home I remembered how exhausted and joyful it feels to head home after a performance and I wondered yet again why I'm not performing regularly anymore.

One reason that pops up is the lack of fellow singers in my life. I prefer to do live work with 3-6 singers, all of us working together to create an experience larger than our selves. I've tossed a few feelers out now and then to the community here but have not really had much of a response. Offering singers gigs that require 2 rehearsals a week with a small bit of cash a few times a month does not seem to be appealing - which once again shows how very odd I am since that sounds fun to me.

Looking back, the one very successful experience I had with creating a singing group that lasted was the Random Choir, in Santa Barbara in the 90's. Perhaps that is what I should do again. Gather singers and simply have them do what they want, find the gigs and then rehearse and perform what they would like to do. Gather singers, let them sing, gather thunder, and let the downpour start.