August 31st, 2007
’Til Death Do Us Part
This past weekend I crossed two items off my list of things to do before I die. I was both (1) on the inside of a wedding-related surprise that took months of preparation, and (2) a part of a barbershop quartet performance. I’d also like to note that I did these at the same time.
It was all thanks to Jerry and Andrea (seen above, wearing groom and bride regalia, respectively) who got married last weekend and had the desire to spring a barbershop song on their unsuspecting friends and family at their reception….
My one regret here is that I did not think of this first.
Of course, even if I had thought of this before my wedding, I would have dismissed it as an impossible undertaking. I’ve been a fan of barbershop music for many years. And I’ve dabbled in trying to transcribe, learn, and record the parts to standards like “Sweet Adeline” and “Coney Island Baby” all by myself. (This is the way your average person these days, who doesn’t hang out with a bunch of musical theater weirdos, has to learn barbershop: all by his-self. No one, not even bandmates from various groups that he finally gets up the nerve to reveal this crazy obsession to, will indulge him and give it a try.) Something I’ve discovered during my investigation of this genre is that it is freaking hard. The only people who can learn and record a full barbershop song, all by themselves, and actually make it sound good are those rare, undeniable, dyed-in-the-wool musicians. Jerry Updyke made a one-man recording of “I Didn’t Want to Fall” for us, so we could each have a track of just our part to learn from, and it sounded good…. Jerry Updyke is a rare, undeniable, dyed-in-the-wool musician. I am not a rare, undeniable, dyed-in-the-wool musician. What I am is a dude who gets excited enough about a musical project and doing that project well that he will forego eating and sleeping and social interaction to practice and then think about it some and then practice it some more. And you can be a dude who gets excited enough about a musical project and doing that project well that he will forego eating and sleeping and social interaction to practice and then think about it some and then practice it some more, and be one-fourth of a barbershop ensemble. ’Cause all you have to do, in that case, is take your part — your series of notes — and completely internalize it. Memorize it backwards and forwards. Sear it into the core of your being. That’s all!
Anyway, there are good reasons I thought a wedding-quartet comprised of normal, non-chorus-geeks could never happen.
Of course, it turned out, three other folks who shared a very similar outlook on music, performance, and even barbershop, had been right under my nose for over a year now. In hindsight, there were some tells I could have kept an eye out for. If you’re a closet barbershop-devotee looking to assemble a group of your own, join a laid back rock group or two, and zero in on those members who show up to practice and effortlessly play their instruments…while cracking hokey, cheesy, poorly-timed jokes at every opportunity. These are your people.
In late April, Seth (the tall, dark, and handsome fellow on the far left in the photo) and I were asked by Jerry and Andrea to join their secret quartet, and a few days later we gathered at Andrea’s house to see if we could really do this, by learning the beginner — and I can now say with a certain air of smugness — rudimentary barbershop selection “Keep the Whole World Singing.” Every time we all managed to hit our notes and achieve the “lock and ring” sound/sensation it produces, it sent us all sprinting through the house in different directions, wailing with excitement.
That was a great day. What we didn’t know at the time, though, was we were just seeing the tip of the proverbial iceberg. During subsequent practices the curtain was drawn back, revealing the whole iceberg. The song we were going to do at the wedding was an advanced one. It would be unfair not to tell you that, early on, the wheels almost came off the iceberg. We put our noses to the iceberg, though, and, as we began settling into our roles, more and more, we began operating like a well-oiled iceberg.
Seth sang lead in our group. His other primary function was to be heard saying “That was our best take yet, in my opinion,” on every single effort we recorded, immediately after we finished.
Andrea, being a girl, sang the high tenor, and, being a girl, was the official long-suffering female during many a movie-quotation-session and fart-joke. Also, she was the one who was always mysteriously disappearing, having snuck off to check her email or update her MySpace.
Jerry, in addition to singing bass, was our fearless leader. He provided the final arrangement for the song and inadvertently gave us our band name by saying something about wanting to “be consistent” just after we’d discussed the Simpsons episode where Homer forms a barbershop quartet known as “The B-Sharps.” The name of our group is “The B-Consistents,” if anyone wants to know.
That leaves me. I sang baritone — a part which fit my vocal range, but continuously eluded my vocal ability. My niche was to struggle with my part and to mess with my laptop and try to listen to or record bits of my part…as if that was going to help me.
There are rumors that a quality video of our big moment was made, and that said video is eventually going up on YouTube. You can bet that I will be posting that here, when it is released. I mean: Surprise. Barbershop. Quartet. At a Wedding Reception. I think I can say, without bias, that this is a magical musical event.
I know I felt that something mystical was going on. It was almost like our four souls became one on that day. Though actually, Jerry and Andrea were married a few hours before we took the stage, so their souls had already become one, earlier on that day…meaning it was actually three souls becoming one at that point on that particular day…. Regardless of how the math works out, I think saying we made a “profound spiritual connection” to one another on stage would trivialize our performance. I can tell you now that mere words cannot express the bond you have to your fellow barbershop singers. All I really know is, when I am on my death bed, hopefully many, many years from now, and I’m feeble with age, I will still be able to sing the baritone line to “I Didn’t Want to Fall.” It is embedded deep in my brain. Forever.
Tags: Friends, Happenings, Music - No Comments »
