Choir is strange.
I have been a member of various concert choirs for about five years now, most recently my college’s women’s concert choir. And let me tell you, choir isn’t all shiny trophies and covers of Journey’s greatest hits.
It’s hard work.
It’s frustrating.
And sometimes it’s downright weird.
Rehearsals are frequent, and each come packed with their own unique frustrations. Like how the girl to your right blends about as well as an unplugged Magic Bullet, and you’ve forgotten the name of the girl on your left, again—Jess? Jill? Jane? Whatever—and Joan cannot pronounce the French lyrics to save her life. C'est très triste (ENOUGH WITH THE HARD R, GOSH DANG IT).
Frustrated section leaders (and outspoken upper classmen) squawk at every missed note or too-long-lasting giggle, and your exasperated director keeps giving the group the silent, disappointed, I’m just waiting for you to shape up look.
What’s more, you CANNOT stop thinking about how to format your biology paper, which is due at midnight—and in terms of content, the only thing you can remember is that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.
Come performance day, we will all be channeling our inner Morticia Addams, being cloaked in long, shapeless black dresses. Our ensemble roasts under the hot lights like a flock of soon-to-be rotisserie chickens, performing songs that we’ve already sung dozens of times.
Songs which, by the way, we don’t even understand half the time—unless we happen to be fluent in French, Chinese, Spanish, and the language of the ancient tribes of wherever, I can’t even remember. Because there is so. Much. Music.
Which has to be memorized, or there will be hell to pay, and a huge, fiery mess on stage.
And don’t even get me started on choreography.Just don’t.
From the outside looking in, it’s easy to wonder, Who in their right mind would enjoy this?
Me.
I’m not crazy, I promise.
Despite the difficulties, I love every second of it. We are literally making magic.
Choir is more than classical music. It’s insight into history and a wide variety of fascinating world cultures. It’s singing songs that move people to tears—sometimes even the choir itself. It’s the chills and overwhelming pride you get when your best friend absolutely kills her solo, which she had been fretting over for months. It’s an opportunity to express yourself, which you desperately need.
And it’s a cumulation of wonderful, wonderful moments.
My favorite is the one right after you’ve absolutely slayed the last piece, and send the audience wide-eyed and applauding straight to their feet. But that isn’t even the best part—it’s when your your director turns and bows to the audience, and then turns to you, absolutely glowing with joy and pride. That’s when the tears start to flow. Because her years of training got you to that level of putting people in awe. You owe it all to her passion and dedication.
That’s when you know that what you're doing it is more than worth the study hours missed, and frustrations, and exhaustion. That’s when you know that you are not only meant to be up on that stage, but you are blessed to be there.
I am unapologetically a choir nerd. I’ll forever support the arts, and will be singing these songs and cherishing these memories for the rest of my days.
