Whose Day Was it Anyway?

I performed at a wedding yesterday. But get this – I. Sang. Lady J, pianist. Sang. Outside of a classroom. By myself.

I’m taking classes in Byzantine Chant. I will save the story for how I got here for a different post, but I am incredibly thankful to be where I am. I am learning to read a different notation system. Check out the same song in Byzantine notation vs Western, from St. Anthony’s Monastery:

Yet another reminder that despite my extensive musical background, my knowledge is in fact incredibly limited. Learning how to read has been great fun, and after about 3 months of classes, I’ve decided I prefer it over western for singing since the pitch is relative. It makes transposition a lot easier, at least for me.

My priest knows I have been taking classes, and it turned out that the pastoral assistant would be unavailable to chant for the wedding, so I was asked on Monday to sing for the wedding on Saturday. I said yes, even though I had been hoping that my first day at the chantstand would be on the feast day of St. John the Baptist in January. It may sound silly, but I felt like I wanted a saint with my (male) name on my side the first time I was singing. How could I say no to serving if I was available, though? I am learning to chant not just for my edification and delight, but so that I can serve in church, and here was my church, needing service.

The pastoral assistant provided me with a link to all of the music in Byzantine notation. I was pleased that I was able to follow along with the recordings and get the melodies down fairly quickly. After all, the only Orthodox wedding I’ve attended was my own, so I had very little idea of what to expect. I had a Zoom meeting with the pastoral assistant, who helped buoy me with confidence as I showed him my progress.

I took it easy in the morning yesterday – lightly humming my way through the melodies so as not to wear out my voice. I went for walk/run (my intervals are up to 3 minutes now!) and stretched (hah, I’m doing that, too!). I excitedly drove to church, dutifully arriving 30 minutes prior to the wedding, which ended up being an hour early. Let me tell you – as a Jamaican with a tendency to run late, Greeks seriously give us a run for our money.

My first performance was 32 years ago. I am JUST now learning to stay calm prior to performing, and this bride and groom were putting my ability to remain calm to the test. 30 extra minutes to wonder what pitch my priest would be starting on, as it is my job as the chanter to match it. From the pews, perhaps some people don’t notice, but I do not like when everyone chanting/singing does not maintain the starting pitch. Would he be too high for me to be comfortable? I didn’t know. I decided that worrying wouldn’t help and enjoyed the Christmas music that the organist was providing.

The bridal party started arriving while the organist played Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. Classic. The organist had asked me to signal when the flower girl had come down the aisle so that she could end and start Here Comes the Bride. I dutifully signaled and looked as the bride made her way down the aisle. I started tearing up and immediately reminded myself to keep it together- sinus drainage doesn’t really promote great singing, no? I was happy that I was teary-eyed, though – it is nice to be moved by ceremony and simply feel connected to a sacrament for other human beings.

The priest began. E flat. UGH, I thought. I used the lower part of my voice to match him. I was hoping he would be on G so I could use my mid-range, but alas, here we were on E flat. He had said I could go with any pitch I wanted, and he would match me, but it didn’t feel right. E flat was in the air, and I had a moral duty. 🙂

The service went much faster than I had anticipated. I read through the Epistle because I didn’t have the confidence to intone – it felt too much like winging it and that was a little much for my first time at the chantstand. I sang one less song than I had prepared, but I was pleased with most of my execution. I am still working on my resonance and breath support with notes higher than B4 so those were kind of iffy, but I don’t think it impacted sacramental validity. 🙂

My priest and the organist definitely pumped me up afterward – looks like I will have another opportunity to chant again. But that’s not even the best part. Guess whose day the church was observing – St. John of DAMASCUS! I had no idea until I had checked the church website in the morning. So I got a St. John after all – a hymn writer, even! Perhaps even a better match for me than the locust and honey eater, no?

I’m hoping the bride and groom had a joyous day and will have a joyous marriage. It was nice to be a part of a big day for them, but it was a big day for me, too. At the end of it all, everyone there was celebrating God, and it was awesome being a part of it. Yay!

Icon of St. John of Damascus

Get Me To The Greek! Pre-Nuptial Report, Part II

“Hey. Don’t say too much. You write well. I don’t want you to make me look bad.” 

-Adonis 

My college roommate and long time friend recently had her wedding and sang at her reception. Her voice is to be envied, for sure. I wasn’t thinking of her voice, though – my mind was on her ovaries. The chutzpah she had to share her feelings in song was what I was really envying. Could I do that? 

Then I remembered. 

I’m getting married. My ovaries are crazy huge. 

Why else would I sign up for a race where the only God-ordained finish is someone’s death? I don’t get to write a post-nuptial report unless I am mourning the loss of my best friend! Pretty sure WordPress doesn’t work from heaven if I go first. I shall do updates from the course, of course, of this ultra in which speed is not of the essence. 

This is one of those things that I have to do because I only have one chance to do it and I do not want regret being a punk. My singing is my preface to the words I will say to Adonis tomorrow. 

I knew I had to sing to you today. I knew I had to do it because of the promises I am making to you. I am promising to take risks with you and for you. I am promising to give you my absolute best, however imperfect. I am promising to find and focus on the beauty in our now collaborative effort. 

How remarkable is it that I am standing before you, the one whom my soul loves. I am so thankful that God has brought you to me. You help me to be strong and courageous. I know you are the one for me because I understand how God loves me better than I did before. You reflect His love and my life is now warmer than I ever could have imagined. 

I sang that I was lost, now I’m free. Because of you, I feel free to trust in God more than I have. I am free to love in ways I did not know I could. I am free to share myself and become one with you. Thank you for pointing me to the true source of that freedom. May I love, honor and cherish you for all my life. 

  
Here we go! 

   
 

Just As I Am: The Dangers of Knowing Too Much

Most civilians know how stressful music making situations can be. By civilians I am referring to amateur musicians, of course. I say amateur musicians (as opposed to professional) because all of us have musical experience. There is not one person who does not listen to music and analyze it. We sing along, even when it is by ourselves. Only a complete asshole a very unsure person wouldn’t participate in a communal happy birthday, right? Professional musicians just have the ability to express their tastes and preferences with a greater degree of specificity.

Das right. I’m fancy. But nobody ever thinks of the perils of being fancy, least of all Iggy.

So I’m in church last week (this triathlete loves Jesus) and we’re worshipping the Lord in song. I must confess – this is my least favorite part of the church service. “But Lady J,” you say. “This makes no sense. You love music. You love Jesus. Music + Jesus = winning, right?” Only when done my way, silly billy. I love singing my favorite hymns on my bike. I love playing through them early mornings as I have tea and (not so) quiet time with The Lord. Meanwhile, this choir and worship leader are up there, singing songs that I may not know, invariably in keys that are uncomfortable for my voice.

“Still,” you insist. “You are a trained musician. Your voice cannot be that bad.” Please. When did I say my voice was bad? It’s just not the best it can be because I have not rehearsed the songs and the worship leader was not considerate enough to contact me regarding an appropriate key. Some
Christians, man.

“So, what you’re really saying is that the talent with which God has blessed you – you’re allowing your knowledge to get in the way of thanking Him for it.”

Guilty.

It’s not as though I am embarrassed of my voice, like others often are. Hell, I’d have to care about the opinions of those around me in church to be at that point. In truth, that kind of concern would probably be a step forward for me. My perfectionism is manifesting itself yet again. God, I want to give you my best. I hate when my technique is wrong. I hate when I yawn as I’m singing praises. But Christ’s death on the cross was probably not to pay for all the off key singing.

I’m sure it didn’t help, though.