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Entry tags:
Mostly music
While my car was having its oil changed, I went to the Green City Market. I hadn't been there since last summer, and they have grown! I got golden beets, tomatoes, raspberries, tiny fingerling potatoes, green beans and flowers (ranunculus). After dropping the car back home, I went downtown for Brian Asawa's recital, which was excellent! He did Dowland, Handel, Vivaldi, Schubert, Fauré, Villa-Lobos and a piece from Jake Heggie's song cycle, Encountertenor, which was written for Asawa.
La, la, la. . .Ah. . .It wasn't long ago that people laughed when I would sing. They weren't uncomfortable with what I had to say. But when I tried it to a tune they all would look away. The smirk upon their faces taught me this small thing: PItch can be a bitch!
La, la, la. . .My post-pubescent peergroup in a touring schoolboy choir would never mention it, but I could clearly see their smug and spotty faces singing parts marked "T" or "B". But when I tried to baritone I was a liar. Pitch can be a bitch!
La, la, la. . .Even teachers who specialize in voices believed I had some choices. When they heard me they'd shake their heads and wonder: How did it get so much like a mezzo? La, la, la. . .
I have to smile when I think back to those days in the past, for now those very notes are what I'm paid to sing. We men who sing these higher notes are few and far between. You've heard it said that laughter's best when it is last. Pitch can be a bitch . . . but so can I. La, la, la . . .
Went home and relaxed a bit, and debated whether or not to go to the Grant Park concert. Just as I was starting to leave, it began to rain, then it stopped, so I dithered. Finally I decided to go, but threw my umbrella in my bag, "just in case". I ate at the outdoor café in Millennium Park, and then to the concert, which was Carl Vine's Percussion Symphony and Carl Orff's Carmina Burana (with soloists Harolyn Blackwell, Kelsey Quinn and Thomas Dymit). It did sprinkle a few times, but never for long or very much.
It was over at 8:00, but I've only just gotten home (it's about 11:00) because, unbeknownst to me, the concert I went to hear was followed by a choral program for Gay Games VII. (Which explains why there were a couple of annoying "ex-gays" carrying rude signs near the park - they were soundly ignored.) They had choral groups from a variety of places (includig the Combined Gay and Lesbian Chorus of Australia and New Zealand) and styles (the Gospel Chorus from NYC was most rousing, and, as they were introduced, the Navy Pier fireworks went off, which was appropriate as the group's name is IllumiNation!). A good time was had by all.
La, la, la. . .Ah. . .It wasn't long ago that people laughed when I would sing. They weren't uncomfortable with what I had to say. But when I tried it to a tune they all would look away. The smirk upon their faces taught me this small thing: PItch can be a bitch!
La, la, la. . .My post-pubescent peergroup in a touring schoolboy choir would never mention it, but I could clearly see their smug and spotty faces singing parts marked "T" or "B". But when I tried to baritone I was a liar. Pitch can be a bitch!
La, la, la. . .Even teachers who specialize in voices believed I had some choices. When they heard me they'd shake their heads and wonder: How did it get so much like a mezzo? La, la, la. . .
I have to smile when I think back to those days in the past, for now those very notes are what I'm paid to sing. We men who sing these higher notes are few and far between. You've heard it said that laughter's best when it is last. Pitch can be a bitch . . . but so can I. La, la, la . . .
Went home and relaxed a bit, and debated whether or not to go to the Grant Park concert. Just as I was starting to leave, it began to rain, then it stopped, so I dithered. Finally I decided to go, but threw my umbrella in my bag, "just in case". I ate at the outdoor café in Millennium Park, and then to the concert, which was Carl Vine's Percussion Symphony and Carl Orff's Carmina Burana (with soloists Harolyn Blackwell, Kelsey Quinn and Thomas Dymit). It did sprinkle a few times, but never for long or very much.
It was over at 8:00, but I've only just gotten home (it's about 11:00) because, unbeknownst to me, the concert I went to hear was followed by a choral program for Gay Games VII. (Which explains why there were a couple of annoying "ex-gays" carrying rude signs near the park - they were soundly ignored.) They had choral groups from a variety of places (includig the Combined Gay and Lesbian Chorus of Australia and New Zealand) and styles (the Gospel Chorus from NYC was most rousing, and, as they were introduced, the Navy Pier fireworks went off, which was appropriate as the group's name is IllumiNation!). A good time was had by all.