There was a fabulous a cappella concert on Saturday. Fifty college students from five colleges sang their hearts out in oscillating harmony. The transitions were as smooth as satin, except when they were meant to leap from one song to another. The Disney
medley had me mesmerized by the turn on a dime switches between Never Had a Friend and You've Got a Friend in Me. Each chorus has a color scheme: red and black, black with robin's egg blue, black and white. Every singer found their own outfit within the spectrum.
When they entered the stage many of them looked self conscious. The theater is large and it was packed. Perhaps the experience of staring into a mass of people is overwhelming. Many of the girls dealt
with the nervousness in three ways. They flipped their hair from front to back and then back to front. They took another swig of their water bottles. And they tugged their skirts down.
But as soon as the first chord sounded all that anxiety dissipated. The song was the thing and they instantly forgot themselves in creating it. The moment the piece ended and the applause kicked in their self consciousness did too.
It reminded me of the one
way phones in use when my mother was little. You could talk or you could listen. You could not do both. Apparently nervousness and performing at full throttle are not compatible behaviors.
I remember times when John and I would be arguing about some issue of importance, like who left the car door open and let the battery die. But by the time we both engaged with solving it, the part of me that can be self absorbed clicked off. It was busy and all complaining got
put on backorder.
Sometimes it was a kid who threw up, interrupting a frosty discussion about finances. Who cares about receipts when your child needs you?
I enjoyed the swiveling from one song to another in the concert. Looking back over the years, I smile to remember how often a skilled Conductor redirected my attention from self to performance.
