Here's why I love performing at the Kennedy Center:
1. Standing on the stage looking out at the audience: Friday night's audience was amazing. At least the people in the front orchestra section appeared to be completely familiar with Carmina Burana. This is not surprising given the piece's universal appeal. . . it's lively, it's melodic, it's dramatic, and you can hear parts of it on most car commercials. But still I have mentioned it to many friends who stare at me with blank expressions and you realize that this is not something that EVERYONE knows. But Friday night's audience (at least the people in the front orchestra section) have been here before. They hung on every word. They smiled in anticipation BEFORE a particular movement. And then they smiled more broadly as they realized that this was an extraordinary rendering of that movement. They appreciated the entire piece, segment by segment and movement by movement. It was so gratifying to watch the joy in these people's faces. I love that when it happens.
2. Being able to watch the conductor from the front. In this case, Fruhbeck. He's a master of this piece. He arrived on stage in his tails, no music stand or score . . just his own self on the podium. And he masterfully drove this piece. No sweat from his brow. Just command. It's a times like these that I completely understand the word revere. I'm not speaking of a silversmith on a horse. I'm speaking about a feeling that comes over me when I look at someone who so completely understands his gift and his mission. I am in awe of this quality, and particularly someone who is in the final years of his greatness. This is me, with him, at the summit of his career. I get to observe and participate in the culmination of his musical learning. I feel the same way about Norman. I revere these two men right now. The dictionary defines revere as to regard with respect tinged in awe. I have more than a tinge of awe for these two great musicians. I can't believe I get to be here doing this.
3. We stand behind the National Symphony Orchestra. Every single solo in the piece is played with exquisite virtuosity. It's so amazing to stand there while they play the one or two movements of Carmina that are designated for orchestra only. I'm not in the audience. I'm right behind them. I can follow the notes on the trumpet players parts. I'm in the middle of the whole ensemble. Choir to the left. Choir to the right. Choir behind me. Orchestra in front. If I'm drowning, don't save me.
4. The almost prerequisite standing ovations and cheers. I know, I know. There are people who bemoan that the standing O is so ubiquitous as to render it without meaning at all. But, heck, this is the Kennedy Center, and if you're in a group that gets to perform there, at these ticket prices you better give a standing ovation performance! And the last two nights have been just that. But here's what's really cool. This was not a Choral Arts performance, it was an NSO performance. There is a difference. When someone attends a concert out of our season, they are coming to hear the choir. When it's the NSO season, they are coming to hear the orchestra. So at the end of the concert, when the bows are being taken, and the choir gets the loudest outburst of applause and cheers, that is just pretty damn fabulous.
5. Going out after a performance to head for the car and having audience members compliment the performance. I feel like a celebrity in my long blue dress.
NOW . . . . . . .
Here's what I hate about singing at the Kennedy Center:
1. Standing around waiting to go on. We have to overkill this. . . .but we line up for this concert at least 20 minutes prior to actually walking on. We have to stand a long time in this concert and to stand for 20 - 30 minutes before even going on is hard. I'm no spring chicken. I'm glad I work out and that yesterday I went to Kohl's and got a better pair of black shoes (and that I got an extra 30% off!). But standing for long periods of time is hard.
2. Sweating. One of my issues in life is that I'm a profuse head-sweater. It's just as well that I was an overweight teenager with no dates, because if I had gone to a dance and actually danced, within 10 minutes I would have looked like I just got out of the pool. People at my gym always ask if I'm working harder than they are, and maybe I am, but more likely, I'm just sweating like a pig from the head and I look drenched. So once we are on the stage under the incredibly hot lights, packed in like sardines, and the music starts. . . . .LOOKOUT! I usually stand front row center, so I can't just stand there like Louis Armstrong and wipe my face off. So this means that about 20 minutes into the concert, what with the lights and the effort it takes to sing the music, and the proximity of all the other choristers, I can feel sweat just pouring down my face and landing on my neck. It's miserable. And I can't really do anything about it until after #10 when we get to sit down. Then I try to be as inconspicuous as possible as I get out my little tissues and mop up. Let me just tell you, a pocket pack of Kleenex does not do the trick. I need towels. . . .badly. So that part is not wonderful.
Okay. . . so standing and sweating. . . . not fun. But all in all, they are to be endured so that I can do the rest. At least my dress has been altered so that I can breathe this year. And I have comfortable shoes. I guess I can stop whining now. Thank you God for the opportunity to go back out there one more time tonight and sweat like a pig while standing for a long time. It doesn't get any better than this!
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