I Don't Do Soprano

Who doesn’t love to sing?

My favorite experiences have been with a partner or in a choir.

I sang in the Glee Club in high school, but the choir classes were held in high esteem. Yet one of my crispest musical memories from Avondale is an assembly where Ken and Bill harmonized with guitars, and Ken sang a solo. We were silenced by their magnificent voices. I wasn’t the only one convinced they had a music career ahead of them.

I was part of Sacred Heart’s choir, our church on Adams Road. I sang alto, and although I couldn’t read music, I could count beats and sound out notes because of early piano lessons.

Mom sang soprano, alto, tenor, and read music. She also played piano and organ, although our regular organist chose the music and led the choir.

Mom chose soprano, and assisted altos and tenors with difficult spots in the music. We had one tenor, Stu, with a powerful voice and a quirky sense of humor. Invariably, after working hard on a difficult hymn, we’d go over it one last time to satisfy our director, and on the final chord, Stu would deliberately sing a wrong note.

“Stu!” we’d moan, but our organist never realized he did it on purpose, and we’d have to start again.

Singing in a choir taught me how to blend, how to work with partners, how to maintain my own part against the movement of others.

And the end result was satisfying.

My sister JoAnn and I began singing together when I was in charge of a “guitar Mass” at Sacred Heart. Our first attempts were “hootenanny” services with folk tunes like “Michael Row the Boat Ashore,” “Today” (Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine…), and “Kumbaya,” which was used at Communion because it had so many verses. Hardly liturgical, but popular at that time.

Music for Mass got better afterward, and JoAnn and I learned many hymns, new and old, and developed impressive harmonies.

We went on to write our own songs, for fun, and met every week to sing folk tunes, originals, bluegrass, early rock tunes—whatever caught our fancy. “The Wayward Wind.” “Bye Bye Love” which we blended into “You get a line and I’ll get a pole, honey…”

I prefer singing with partners.

Recently, I retired from the guitar choir at St. Anne’s. My partners—JR on guitar, Sandy with her lovely soprano, and Paul on his 12-string—and I sang old hymns and new, spirituals, and polished harmonies that made our offerings prayerful, yet fun. “I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses…” and “The Old Rugged Cross” were two favorites.

One December, a couple came to our parish to “save our little church” with their fresh ideas.

The leader produced an impressive electric piano, but had no sense of prayerfulness during services or of the congregation’s role at Mass. He wanted to put on an impressive Christmas program during the Mass, with no participation by the people. Hmmm…

Our deacon convinced me to be part of that one-time choir, so I agreed to a practice. Our guitar choir was already serving at Christmas Eve Mass, where the congregation would be singing familiar carols with us.

That practice turned out to be one of the most amusing evenings I’d spent in some time.

The music was passed out, nothing familiar and everything requiring four-part harmony. Our gathering was small, but we were willing to try. Unfortunately, the leader’s wife was so eager to help, she sang every part with us, wrong, in her bluegrass twang, so we couldn’t hear the piano notes.

We struggled along a while when behind me, a woman suddenly wailed, “No! I can’t! I don’t do soprano! It says soprano.” The leader stopped and turned. “Who said that?” We all turned. The woman was wild-eyed and distressed. “But this part isn’t soprano,” the leader said. “We’re singing in unison and the notes are within the alto range.” He paused. “You do know what unison means?”

But she continued insisting that she couldn’t sing soprano, and if a soprano could sing it, she couldn’t. “I can’t, I can’t,” she cried, and added, “I can only sing two notes.”

That got his attention. “Two notes? Only two?” Irritation and curiosity battled before curiosity won. “Really?” he said. “Which two?”

We never managed that Christmas choir and the couple left shortly afterward.

But our guitar choir served for years with favorite hymns and lovely harmonies.

I miss those days, and even more, the years of playing, writing, and singing with JoAnn.

It’s no fun to sing solo after that.

And by the way, I don’t do soprano, either.
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Published on September 30, 2023 07:25 Tags: choir, four-part-harmony, guitar-choir, harmony, hymns
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