Performers' High

After the small ensemble I'd been part of for 13 years disbanded, the director told me that although she missed our rehearsals - just a bunch of madrigal enthusiasts singing together - and our potlucks, she didn't miss performing. For her, it was a relief to not get into costume and spend the entire month of December plus significant chunks of spring weekends playing to crowds.

Everyone who sings with others has different reasons for doing it, but I have to admit that, unlike my friend, performing is one of my reasons. During the year following our dissolution, before I connected with my current community chorus, something was missing. I sang in church choir but it wasn't the same. Life itself felt a little boring. Does that mean that I don't love music for its own sake?

Some musicians would say yes; any motivation other than pure love of practicing an art sullies the experience.  I disagree. Earning money doing music has never been a goal of mine but I do love applause, especially when it seems sincere. I certainly don't look down on writers who want recognition for their blogs or artists who want to display their work at juried shows, even if they never sell anything. To me it makes perfect sense. We all want to be recognized for something.

If that recognition comes from our day job or career, well and good. If high pay comes with the recognition, great! But for many of us, this doesn't happen. That's why we seek recognition elsewhere. And if the public performances entail wearing a costume, improvising, drawing the audience into the scene or hamming it up, all the better - it lets many of us bring out Selves that are kept in cages on the job, at home or in "serious" settings.

That's why I love performing for the public. And I suspect this is why some of my friends in music, theater and dance, friends who'd be called introverts in workaday life, love performing. Stereotypes are like cages, and introverts are often shunted away into a cage labeled Quiet and Self-Effacing. Family, friends and colleagues, bless their hearts, sometimes work very hard to keep us in those cages ("That's so unlike you!"). Being on stage (or its outdoor casual equivalent) is one way to break free.

So while I respect my musical colleagues who are fine with strumming or humming to themselves at home or among a small group of friends, I'll always keep the stage door open. It lets in fresh air, which makes it easier to breathe no matter what circumstances I find myself in at home or work.

An Unexpected Gift

There's something about joining forces with a bunch of like-minded people in order to carry out a vision. The saying "The whole is greater than the sum of its parts" might sound trite but it's true. Great things can happen (and that includes great shows) when a project get propelled forward by communal energy.

There's another benefit to group endeavors when everyone is intensely focused on collaborating: they can spawn close friendships that wouldn't happen without the work that brings everyone together.  Over the years, I've met most of the people who ended up being close friends through the various activities I've joined. These activities have included book groups, writing circles, ensembles and even, for one year, the college rowing club. Not all of these friendships have survived the conclusion of a project, demise of a group or a cross-country move. But they occurred at the right times, under the right conditions.

Science is discovering that singing together provides numerous health benefits. We've known for a long time that friendships are essential to a happy life. Combine them and the benefits more thanb double.

What Gets You Through?

It's been a 12-hour day already: up at 6 a.m., work, go to class, make a brief landing at home to take care of essential chores, and now...rehearsal. I think to myself I must be crazy. A normal person would collapse in front of the TV with a bag of potato chips and a beer. But here I am, off to a 3-hour marathon of rehearsing Broadway hits or chugging through the labyrinthine runs of a Bach cantata. As I wait in line at the corner convenience store to pay for a Starbuck's Doubleshot, I ask that age-old question, why?

Once I'm at my destination and we're in full swing, however, the question becomes irrelevant. No matter how tired, out of sorts or unfocused I was feeling before setting off, I get a second-wind rush. Sometimes it's watered down, but it always comes. That's when I remember This is why we do it. This moment makes all the aggravation of the preceding 14 hours worth it. Sometimes it's a small lift. Sometimes it's a rocket boost. And every so often, the rush of singing together with a crowd of kindred spirits provides the juice needed to get through an entire week, make a significant breakthrough in some other area of life or drop a reminder that life can be much, much more than the daily grind.

People with a passion engage those passions for a number of reasons Sometimes those reasons aren't immediately apparent to us. It may take hindsight to realize that this is the thing we were born to do, and doing it gives us the juice we need to do the mundane stuff like paying bills. It may be because the activity bestows a crowd of ready-made friends or what is sometimes called a fellowship - a group that provides mutual support that extends beyond the rehearsal, meeting or game. It may be a sense of mastery that we don't get at work.

A passion or avocation in any field may even be just a welcome reprieve from certain tedious roles that many of us feel trapped in at times. For two hours of the week, we're not a cog in the company wheel, the always available (and otherwise invisible) friend / family member / volunteer or the bad-cop parent. We're the entertainer, author, artist, citizen scientist, marathon goddess or what-have-you that we've always secretly dreamed of being. It means that in at least one portion of our lives, someone appreciates our showing up, our hard work and our skill, however modest it may be. During stressful times, this is big. It may be the thing that keeps you from quitting your job, bidding your nearest & dearest goodbye and sailing off to Tahiti.

So we keep on keeping on. Even if tonight doesn't bring any revelations or relief, we know that we'll feel better in the morning, that something good will come of this, that no work that we do for love ( the word amateur means someone who does something for the love of it) is ever wasted.

It's not over till the chorus sings.

Out of the Box

It's easy to build boxes around yourself and your singing: I don't like (genre/composer), I'm not a jazz person, I can only sing well when I'm next to Mary, I don't like being pushed, I don't do chest voice, I have to sing the melody because I can't read music...and on and on.

I'd built a box around my allowable experiences. I liked Classical and Early music, most especially Renaissance. Sure, I could do my part in the chorus's "pops" concerts just fine, but I'd convinced myself that it would always be a second-rate experience.

Then, several years ago, I hit a wall. I loved my group but we'd been doing the same repertoire for more than a decade. Certain pieces felt stale. It was proving hard to convince most members to try a more experimental approach to our arrangements. In order to do something about my frustration, I signed up for voice lessons at the best-known local music store-school, and requested a teacher specializing in jazz - something completely new for me.

Int he end I was surprised at the degree to which jazz & pop techniques helped at singing madrigals. My teacher's emphasis on solo work, including her twice-monthly open mic at a coffee shop, made me a stronger singer and forced me to develop stage presence, something not usually required of choral singers. I learned how to shed the Pretty Voice and put on a more earthy style when the material seemed to call for it. Most of all, it opened my mind up to a whole new range of possibilities. These days I find myself singing along with Ella Fitzgerald and Peggy Lee as well as the Boston Camerata.

My Renaissance group has quasi-disbanded and I've joined a large chorus. Currently we're rehearsing for a Broadway-inspired show. It requires a totally different singing style and lets us ham it up. And it's more fun than I would ever have guessed it would be.

If you're feeling bored during rehearsals or it seems like you've hit a glass ceiling - the director always overlooks you when casting small groups or solos; no one seems to notice your extra efforts; you can't advance from the B choir to the A choir - maybe it's time to ask yourself if you've boxed yourself in. The good news is that if the answer's "Yes," you can get yourself out. Find something completely new to you and dive in.

Calming Nerves When You're "On"

If you're in a band, community theater production or a dance troup, you know that there's nothing like being in front of a responsive with-it audience. The best performing experiences can put you in major Flow. However, sometimes in order to get there in the first place, you need to get over a case of stage fright. For me, group singing has never an occasion for nerves but give me lines to memorize and I get collywobbles. How can you deal with these so that you not only avoid bungling your part but can actually enjoy your audience?

I plucked these tips from various sources, including a former music teacher and a favorite life coach/career counselor author (job interviews are a performance, and many of us get nervous about them):

• Over-prepare. In my own experience there's really no such thing as being too prepared. Practice, memorize and practice some more. Practice until you could deliver the lines or piece in your sleep. Then rehearse a few extra times. If you're able to go on autopilot you're less likely to blank out or have a total brain dump.
• Limit caffeine intake the day of performance. Once you get in the flow, you'll be able to bounce along on the mental energy alone.
• Practice deep diaphramatic breathing on a regular basis. A therapist once explained to me that when we breathe deeply, our lungs press up against the Vagus nerve, which, when pressed, releases Seratonin, the happy-making hormone. Deep breathing isn't just a mind-occupying calming technique; there's a physiological component as well.
• As much as possible, get together with the rest of the group on the day of the show, and go over things together. Working together distracts you from analyzing your feelings. It gets you out of your own head. 
• Focus on the audience. You're giving them a gift, so make it the best gift possible. Really concentrating on the giving aspect lessens the "I gotta be good!" pressure.
• Have a reward  - a glass of your favorite wine, a few squares of really good chocolate or whatever floats your boat - waiting for you...after the show, of course.

If you're able to take your mind off yourself and become totally absorbed in the experience, you may find that the "performers' high" lasts for the rest of the evening - you won't need that glass of wine! 

The Plateau

So...you're zipping along whatever route you may have chosen to fulfillment and fun - running marathons, writing a novel, playing in a band or whatever - making excellent progress, when you suddenly land (splat!) on a plateau. You try to find a way back to your path of progress but none of your tried-and-true kickstart methods are working this time. You're stranded. Stalled. Stuck.

Plateaus are no fun when you're on one. I know; generally around this time of year, whatever group I'm in is in the middle of its rehearsal season for holiday music. The novelty of new pieces and happy reunions with familiar music are over. We've been working hard and have wrangled notes, diction and phrasing into some sort of order. However, small but persistent issues keep cropping up. We drill certain numbers over and over. Sometimes practices drag a bit. Boredom is lurking around the edges.

When you plateau it's tempting to give up and start coasting. Now more than ever, you'll need to focus. Here are a few fixes that have worked for me:

• Take a short break. Even if it's only a day or so, that may be all you need.
• Partner up with someone from your group. Run, write or practice together.
• When you're in a session and feel yourself starting to zone out, use any keep-alert tactics that work for you. Try deep breathing, moving around or drinking water (being dehydrated can make you feel tired). 
• Practice the state of mindfulness known as Be Here Now: your only task at the moment is to do this particular activity to the best of your ability. 
• Know when it really is time to quit for the day. At the point where you've used up all your mental and physical energy, it's better to try again another day rather than spin your wheels. 
• Find motivation or a goal with personal meaning that infuses you with energy. For instance, if you play in a band, what got you going in the first place? Do you like having a sense of mastery? Does performing for an audience provide your strongest motivation? Or is it belonging to a tightly knit group? There are no wrong answers so be honest. Once you know what floats your boat, you can create short and long-term goals that will help you get more of it. 

No matter how much you love your activity, it won't be one nonstop peak experience. However, if you use plateaus as learning experiences, you'll get unstuck much more quickly.

How Can We Keep From Singing?

How do you respond to a bad day - the kind where the car won't start, you're running behind on a project at work, your kid brings bad news home from school & you find out that your account's overdrawn and the mortgage withdrawal bounced? I don't mean garden-variety bad; I mean the kind of bad that leaves you devoting all your free time for the next month putting out fires & cleaning up messes. 

When stuff like that happens - when, as a friend puts it, life gets lifey - my first reaction used to be to hunker down with a cup of coffee (or if it's late, a glass of wine) and draw up detailed plans for getting everything fixed, followed by sceduling it all in the google calendar and sending out a flurry of email. All the while, I'm working myself into a jaw-clenching state of adreneline-fueled anxiety. 

But there's a saner way, one that I've made my go-to response: play or sing. Strum on the dulcimer, practice chorus material or go for a drive and do car karaoke. It's even better with a friend along. After the two of you have been belting out old Supremes tunes together for twenty minutes, everything starts to look better even though it isn't.

What's really strange and wonderful, however, is that the problems get solved more quickly and easily after a good jam session. I don't understand how this works but I'll take it.

In the various groups I've been in, members have dropped out "just for a little while" when life got lifey - when mom fell down and broke her hip, someone lost a job or the basement flooded - and I've always had to stifle the urge to run after them saying, "Wait, don't go! You need music more than ever now!" On the surface it may seem like a luxury but I've seen choir friends become dispirited or even depressed after completely laying aside music in order to devote all their spare time to fixing problems or responding to an emergency. 

It can be hard to keep on singing when you feel as though you should be fixing. Depending on your family culture, you might be penalized for not dropping everything that others label as frivolous. But how useful will you be if you're feeling resentful while "helping" others, or if your attitude sours? Recent studies, including one done by a team at Oxford, show that choral singing (and probably, any kind of music-making) boosts both mood and productivity.

It seems to me that sticking with a joy-full activity in spite of overwhelming work/home/people problems is like sending a signal to Life, The Universe & Everything: no, I won't quit and you can't make me! I've noticed that people who send out this signal during tough times often seem to receive better treatment from Life, The Universe & Everything than do the folks who knuckle under to "necessity" and stop doing what makes them happy. 

Don't stop singing, even when life gets lifey. Maybe singing won't solve your problems but you'll be able to attack them with a more hopeful attitude and it's more likely that your situation will end on a good note.