From
Jesse Buddington: I'd like to borrow Joyce's blog this week to talk about one
of choral singing's central concepts - it's something so innate, so obvious,
that we rarely actually mention it. It's something so central to choral singing
that it makes up half of the name - the choral part. I'd like to talk about the
difference between being a good musician, and being a good chorister.
Wait, what?
See, that's what I mean - most people assume (as I did for many
years) that good musicians automatically make the best choristers. I
experienced that in my high school choir, at San Francisco's School of the
Arts. For those of you unfamiliar with SOTA, it's an audition-based public
school where everyone has to "major" in an art. When I began
attending, our vocal program was filled with the best young soloists the city
(and its surroundings) had to offer - pop, rock, gospel, classical, etc. The
then-choir director put a lot of the department's resources into small
ensembles and individual voice lessons for everyone - better musicians are
simply universally better, right?
Unsurprisingly, the choir often sounded like a bunch of soloists
who were asked to sing something at the same time. In my senior year, we got a
new vocal director who spent a lot more time on group blend and collective
decisions within each section and each song. The change in the choir was
remarkable.
Choral singing is a special kind of music, and it caters to a
special kind of artist. Whereas many artists seek art as a way of expressing
themselves individually, still others throw themselves into a collective whole,
trying to feel out in colors or chords the strings that bind human beings to
one another.
When people can't make group rehearsal dates, I often hear the
argument that they'll practice on their own, or with their voice teacher. While
this does indeed speak to an artist's dedication, it makes them very
dedicated musicians - it does not make them dedicated choristers, because
there's more to being in a choir than just being a good musician. There are
plenty of musical avenues for soloists; what makes a choir special is the vocal
blend, and that blend is only possible through mutual, collaborative work. It's
something that can be guided, but cannot be taught(especially not in isolation)-
it can only be learned through regular practice with the same group. Every
choir makes many, many decisions in rehearsal that simply cannot be replicated
or practiced at home.
The commitment-argument holds some weight where an effort is
made to organize the whole group or at least members of a section outside of
rehearsal, but most people who miss rehearsals end up working on music alone or
with their voice teacher (probably because organizing one's section outside of
regular rehearsals is next-to-impossible - that's why we have regular
rehearsals!). Although these people will continue to grow as musicians, I don't
see how they could possibly be as prepared blend-wise as a person who has been
at every rehearsal at which an important musical decision has been made - which
is pretty much every rehearsal.
To draw the ever-popular sports analogy, imagine that you have
every member of a baseball team train alone, with a separate coach. Imagine
that they attain Olympic-level physical condition and learn all there is to
learn about the game of baseball. Now, put them on a team against a team that
practices together every day, and see how well they do. I imagine there will be
more than a few dropped balls, if not outright outfield collisions.
When I sing with Continuo, or conduct YME, I sometimes
experience this sixth-sense of where everyone is and what everyone is doing -
it's a common phenomenon in driving ("feeling" the external
dimensions of a familiar car), and that sense transfers over pretty well to
choral singing. When you crescendo through a chord, or take a breath at just
the right time with everyone else, you experience a sense of collective
awareness. It's a wonderful feeling, and I bet that every single boy in CG or
higher can immediately recall at least one story of having felt that
sensation.
I think it's a huge part of why generation after generation of
Ragazzi boy keeps putting in the long hours of hard work to achieve those magic
moments.
