In the Jan/Feb 2015 edition of Saveur magazine, Jody Williams (chef-owner of Buvette in New York and Paris and one of the chef-owners, with Rita Sodi, of Via Carota in New York), wrote a piece called Nostalgia is an Ingredient. The subject of nostalgia in the context of food preparation turned my thoughts to nostalgia in the context of musical preparation.
After a long hiatus from singing, and an even longer time since seriously learning (learning seriously?) music, I have finally taken the plunge into repertoire after dipping my toe over the last few years. And, even though there is much more repertoire which I have not sung than which I have , some of my most comforting and most satisfying moments in the studio are with pieces I have sung in the past.
These pieces are like the best chicken noodle soup you can imagine, delicious and warming. Mi chiamano Mimi, Pirate Jenny, Fantoches, Die Forelle, are some of my favourites from a time I will henceforth refer to in this blog as ‘the St. Louis Days ’. They are old friends. But I was singing way before I entered higher education so what about Deh Vieni or every song from every Rodgers and Hammerstein musical (every album owned by my parents) or The Rubber Ducky Song from Sesame Street? Musical memories are my earliest memories and just thinking of that music evokes a happy, nostalgic response even when I am not actually hearing it or singing it.
So, I go into the studio and pull out my copy of Boheme and start singing. The music is so beautiful and I know the words, the notes, the interpretation like the back of my hand. But there is also something else buzzing in the background, something is not quite right. My throat tickles and my voice tires easily. What is going on? For me, like for many singers, repertoire, sung when our technique was less advanced can come with baggage. We revert to old, less healthy technical habits. So, it may feel ‘comfortable’ to sing these beloved pieces from the past but comfortable is not always healthy. My interpretation seems a little off, too. This was one of my favourites which I performed a lot, but I am not connecting to Mimi and her words the same way I used to do. I am connecting to them, just differently than I did over a decade ago. And it feels weird. I am discombobulated.
Crap. Why are pleasurable things bad for us? Do I have to give up singing anything from the St. Louis Days, all the things I love? Where do I go from here so that nostalgia can give me pleasure like it is supposed to without causing me to move backwards as an artist?
That sounds tough (and a bit whiny) but it isn’t.
We can only live in the present so I will have to repurpose the memories to work in the here and now. I will allow these favourite pieces to lead me to different repertoire by the same or similar composers, so I can try something new. I will get my blast of nostalgia by discovering new interpretations of ‘the oldies’ on Spotify and on YouTube. And when I am ready, I will try singing them again with a fresh approach and voice, informed by the past but enhanced by present. And I can keep repeating this process until it feels and sounds good. And when I need a little fix, I can go to my memories and ‘hear’ the music. I can always count on nostalgia.
Postscript – And, speaking of ‘the best chicken noodle soup’, here’s my current favourite from The Smitten Kitchen: http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2015/01/my-ultimate-chicken-noodle-soup/
After a long hiatus from singing, and an even longer time since seriously learning (learning seriously?) music, I have finally taken the plunge into repertoire after dipping my toe over the last few years. And, even though there is much more repertoire which I have not sung than which I have , some of my most comforting and most satisfying moments in the studio are with pieces I have sung in the past.
These pieces are like the best chicken noodle soup you can imagine, delicious and warming. Mi chiamano Mimi, Pirate Jenny, Fantoches, Die Forelle, are some of my favourites from a time I will henceforth refer to in this blog as ‘the St. Louis Days ’. They are old friends. But I was singing way before I entered higher education so what about Deh Vieni or every song from every Rodgers and Hammerstein musical (every album owned by my parents) or The Rubber Ducky Song from Sesame Street? Musical memories are my earliest memories and just thinking of that music evokes a happy, nostalgic response even when I am not actually hearing it or singing it.
So, I go into the studio and pull out my copy of Boheme and start singing. The music is so beautiful and I know the words, the notes, the interpretation like the back of my hand. But there is also something else buzzing in the background, something is not quite right. My throat tickles and my voice tires easily. What is going on? For me, like for many singers, repertoire, sung when our technique was less advanced can come with baggage. We revert to old, less healthy technical habits. So, it may feel ‘comfortable’ to sing these beloved pieces from the past but comfortable is not always healthy. My interpretation seems a little off, too. This was one of my favourites which I performed a lot, but I am not connecting to Mimi and her words the same way I used to do. I am connecting to them, just differently than I did over a decade ago. And it feels weird. I am discombobulated.
Crap. Why are pleasurable things bad for us? Do I have to give up singing anything from the St. Louis Days, all the things I love? Where do I go from here so that nostalgia can give me pleasure like it is supposed to without causing me to move backwards as an artist?
That sounds tough (and a bit whiny) but it isn’t.
We can only live in the present so I will have to repurpose the memories to work in the here and now. I will allow these favourite pieces to lead me to different repertoire by the same or similar composers, so I can try something new. I will get my blast of nostalgia by discovering new interpretations of ‘the oldies’ on Spotify and on YouTube. And when I am ready, I will try singing them again with a fresh approach and voice, informed by the past but enhanced by present. And I can keep repeating this process until it feels and sounds good. And when I need a little fix, I can go to my memories and ‘hear’ the music. I can always count on nostalgia.
Postscript – And, speaking of ‘the best chicken noodle soup’, here’s my current favourite from The Smitten Kitchen: http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2015/01/my-ultimate-chicken-noodle-soup/
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