(I've started and erased this post about ten times now. It's not going so hot. I'll try to get through it...)
Guitars are wonderful instruments. So mobile. So versatile. So peaceful (sometimes). Especially if they're in tune. I got to mess around with a friend on the guitar recently (mostly as the singer) and it was fun... even if the guitar was out of tune. I don't know if this person or their loved ones read this blog, but if you do, know that it is no slight to the guitar player when I say that about the out-of-tuneness of said guitar. Guitars pull out of tune when you raise them a whole step. The strings don't like it. They're tighter and they want to go back to were they are comfortable, a whole step lower. Playing them outside in the cold air doesn't help keep the strings tuned up pretty either. I know that and that's ok. Are we good? Good.
(The urge to erase this post is strong right now. I'm not going to. That might be a mistake, but I shall carry on, nonetheless.)
As I sat there jamming with the guitarist, we were both supremely frustrated. Neither of us knew the same songs as the other, save a precious few. We didn't speak the same language. He knew this and this and this song and thought surely I would too. "Nope," I'd say. "I know the tune, but not the words." Then I'd ask if he knew this or this or this song... "Nope," he'd say.
Dang it!
When I'm with my family, we all know the same songs. And if we don't, it's not too long before we learn it. We mostly like the same sort of music. It made me miss my brother, who's guitar skills and repertoire are deep. It made me miss my mother, my sisters, both my brothers, and my dad, who sing all the time and can break into harmony, complete with SATB, if we're all there. We speak the same language, you know? And there's magic in the language of a family.
Parlez vous...?
(Mediocre post, at best, but I've been thinking about this little subject for a while now and I had to get it out, if crappily. My apologies.)
Showing posts with label Singing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Singing. Show all posts
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Without A Hitch
No problems singing along with my iPod tonight. In fact, I just woke up my husband because of how little a problem it was.
I totally ROCKED Jason Mraz. Both Lucky AND I'm Yours.
I was Jason Mraz, guitar and all...
You are the crown. Be the crown.
I totally ROCKED Jason Mraz. Both Lucky AND I'm Yours.
I was Jason Mraz, guitar and all...
You are the crown. Be the crown.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Because I Must
Another late night for me. I've been up to my elbows in chocolate and caramel tonight. Yes, on Wednesday it all starts again.
As I stood there dipping, my back hurting, shoulder aching and eyes feeling tired, dozens and dozens of written lines ran through my head. Written lines about the facts and follies of life, the silliness of the human condition, the ache of autonomy, all the while my favorite playlist singing my thoughts along their merry (or not-so-merry) way.
Usually, when there is music playing, it requires a force of will for me to resist singing along. Usually. Tonight I am somber. I sang along to some, but mostly I just listened, my interest smearing itself like Elmer's Glue across my thoughts. For most of this night, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm singing requires. I wonder why that is?
My heart goes out to my husband. My mood was darkening just before he went to bed. Digging all the required dipping "equipment" out of our construction-zone basement was a dusty affair that required ridiculous amounts of household cleaners and paper towels. The dust pushed my itchy eye button which creates a domino effect of sneezing followed by a severely short temper. Go ahead. Ask my children. They have a testimony of Mom's finite fuse when her eyes are itching.
Spring is my favorite. Allergies. Between sneezes, itchy eyes and throat, I'm a regular time-bomb.
Which leads to the fact that I'm terribly hungry right now. Actually, that doesn't lead that direction in any way, shape or form. Apparently this post is a conglomerate of my random and semi-dark thoughts. Can you see them in your mind's eye? I can. I imagine my thoughts swirling like clouds that precede a storm, the wind whipping your hair around so it gets stuck in your mouth, sunshine scurrying to a hidden place in anticipation of what's coming, your nose wrinkling at that hint of rain in the air.
But, no. Not this time. You know those summer storms that roll in, dark and ominous... and then, surprisingly, roll back out with only a smattering of fat raindrops? That's more like how this mood of mine feels. It's temporary. It will be gone as soon as I extricate myself from this chair and rest my head on my pillow.
But here I am, writing anyway because I must. My dipping fingers distracted my body-sense and, for the last three hours, I wrote in my mind. I, of course, had brilliant prose and incredible ideas spewing from some previously dry fountain, and I let them run all over the place and didn't write them down... chocolate can be such a hindrance. My fingers itched to type. (and they itched from the chocolate) My flooded mind needed an outlet. I must say, it's a fairly disappointing flow that is being released, but I can't start writing something too brilliant at 1:00am... I have to stop sometime and go to bed. Maybe it was all re-absorbed into the ground so it will grow something better, bigger, prettier, fancier, and generally more wonderful. But, as silly as this is all starting to feel, I feel like singing again and that's sayin' something...
As I stood there dipping, my back hurting, shoulder aching and eyes feeling tired, dozens and dozens of written lines ran through my head. Written lines about the facts and follies of life, the silliness of the human condition, the ache of autonomy, all the while my favorite playlist singing my thoughts along their merry (or not-so-merry) way.
Usually, when there is music playing, it requires a force of will for me to resist singing along. Usually. Tonight I am somber. I sang along to some, but mostly I just listened, my interest smearing itself like Elmer's Glue across my thoughts. For most of this night, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm singing requires. I wonder why that is?
My heart goes out to my husband. My mood was darkening just before he went to bed. Digging all the required dipping "equipment" out of our construction-zone basement was a dusty affair that required ridiculous amounts of household cleaners and paper towels. The dust pushed my itchy eye button which creates a domino effect of sneezing followed by a severely short temper. Go ahead. Ask my children. They have a testimony of Mom's finite fuse when her eyes are itching.
Spring is my favorite. Allergies. Between sneezes, itchy eyes and throat, I'm a regular time-bomb.
Which leads to the fact that I'm terribly hungry right now. Actually, that doesn't lead that direction in any way, shape or form. Apparently this post is a conglomerate of my random and semi-dark thoughts. Can you see them in your mind's eye? I can. I imagine my thoughts swirling like clouds that precede a storm, the wind whipping your hair around so it gets stuck in your mouth, sunshine scurrying to a hidden place in anticipation of what's coming, your nose wrinkling at that hint of rain in the air.
But, no. Not this time. You know those summer storms that roll in, dark and ominous... and then, surprisingly, roll back out with only a smattering of fat raindrops? That's more like how this mood of mine feels. It's temporary. It will be gone as soon as I extricate myself from this chair and rest my head on my pillow.
But here I am, writing anyway because I must. My dipping fingers distracted my body-sense and, for the last three hours, I wrote in my mind. I, of course, had brilliant prose and incredible ideas spewing from some previously dry fountain, and I let them run all over the place and didn't write them down... chocolate can be such a hindrance. My fingers itched to type. (and they itched from the chocolate) My flooded mind needed an outlet. I must say, it's a fairly disappointing flow that is being released, but I can't start writing something too brilliant at 1:00am... I have to stop sometime and go to bed. Maybe it was all re-absorbed into the ground so it will grow something better, bigger, prettier, fancier, and generally more wonderful. But, as silly as this is all starting to feel, I feel like singing again and that's sayin' something...
Sunday, August 10, 2008
My Heritage
Any of you who have known me or read my blog for a while know that singing is vitally important to me. It makes me HAPPY. It makes me light. It brings me so much joy and satisfaction. It's also in my blood, reaching back generations.
I had a jar post a while ago where I talked about my aunts. I said I would try to get some recordings of my aunt Tana singing on here.... well, tonight I figured out how. These are not professionally recorded, but they are incredibly sweet. This was recorded on a reel to reel around twenty years ago or more. (I think!) It is my maternal grandmother and my aunt Tana singing. Tana is also playing the guitar. The first two songs, Free and Bright Light, my grandma wrote. The last one, The Sweetest Gift, someone else wrote, but it is my favorite. This is such a treasure to me that I have these recordings of my Grandma and my aunt singing together. My grandma is the lower voice, Tana, the higher. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
Boomp3.com
Boomp3.com
Boomp3.com
Those three are very folk sounding, but here is my aunt in her big performance voice... I believe this was recorded at her church's Christmas Eve program. My favorite is at the end when the choir comes in behind her.... it gives me chills.
Boomp3.com
I had a jar post a while ago where I talked about my aunts. I said I would try to get some recordings of my aunt Tana singing on here.... well, tonight I figured out how. These are not professionally recorded, but they are incredibly sweet. This was recorded on a reel to reel around twenty years ago or more. (I think!) It is my maternal grandmother and my aunt Tana singing. Tana is also playing the guitar. The first two songs, Free and Bright Light, my grandma wrote. The last one, The Sweetest Gift, someone else wrote, but it is my favorite. This is such a treasure to me that I have these recordings of my Grandma and my aunt singing together. My grandma is the lower voice, Tana, the higher. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
Boomp3.com
Boomp3.com
Boomp3.com
Those three are very folk sounding, but here is my aunt in her big performance voice... I believe this was recorded at her church's Christmas Eve program. My favorite is at the end when the choir comes in behind her.... it gives me chills.
Boomp3.com
Sunday, June 8, 2008
No Wonder
No wonder David Cook is the latest American Idol Winner! I thought this performance was amazing!
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