Oh, Johann

So, this past weekend was literally one of my dreams come true. I sang as the soprano soloist with with a chamber choir and true-bona fide chamber orchestra that is played with real Baroque instruments. This really was a chance of a lifetime. The instruments included lutes, harpsichord, Baroque organ, oboe d'amore, Baroque flutes, and viola de gambas, everything. It was nothing short of heavenly. For many, if not most, people, this sounds like a recipe for a major snooze-fest, but I just dig this stuff. When it comes to my own singing preferences, this past year I have found kind of a "home" in early music, Bach in particular. I have come to know for SURE that in the previous life, I was good friends with this man....
Most paintings I found online depict him as older, chubby, and very stern. This is what I think he actually looks like. His music is absolutely electric, and filled with passion and feeling. He makes no apologies, writes whatever he darn well pleases and you'd better do it justice, because everyone can tell if you're faking it. There is no faking Bach, that's why I like him so much. You can fool people with almost any kind of music, vocal music in particular. But Bach is the real deal. You just can't do him half-way.

The recitative and aria I sang is part of cantata 198, written for a funeral for Christiane Eberhardine, Queen of Poland and Electoral Princess of Saxony. I can't imagine going to a funeral and hearing something like this. Bach constantly does the almost-impossible, and this work proves no different. He created something that is somber and reverent, befitting the occasion, yet bouyant and hopeful at the same time. The music is just as moving today as it was in 1727, when it was originally performed. I think of Bach writing this, and it is truly amazing to me that he probably thought that it would only be performed for the one occasion, and then forgotten forever. But instead of doing a perfectly acceptable job and calling it "good enough," he reaches into the texts and interweaves the choral parts and orchestral parts together to paint the exact image that he wants.

I felt like my performance was good. Not flawless, but overall I would say I am 90% happy with how I sang. 90% is quite a superb score too, considering I spent most of the night awake with tummy issues and anxiety (most having to do with the tummy issues). See, I have a bit of a performance anxiety problem, but it's not something I talk about, because my usual strategy is to pretend it doesn't exist, and therefore I don't give it enough energy to really take root and survive. Most of the time, this works out pretty well for me, but I would be lying if I said it hasn't hampered me in the past. A lot. So I have spent a great deal of time on my knees the past couple of weeks. Even before I had the tummy issues, I had a sore throat the week before, which I was so nervous would develop into laryngitis, as it usually does with me. I kept asking God..."why would You let me have an amazing opportunity like this, but yet threaten to take it away? Are You trying to tell me something, like maybe I should not sing and perform? If I'm not supposed to sing, why do I have this voice?" Anyway, the stomach issues started to subside late Sunday morning, maybe because of the prayers or maybe because of the double dose of Immodium, maybe both. So I was feeling like I would be OK. As I sat in church (I was only able to go for an hour before leaving for the concert) I still was fighting waves of yuckiness and I felt weak and dehydrated, even though I had been drinking as much as I could. I continued with the doubt through the next couple of hours until I was at the place where the concert was being held, about an hour before the opening chorus. This is a huge Presbyterian church in the middle of downtown. I found a quiet place by myself, and again prayed, but this time I felt like I finally "got it." I just gave up and said, "OK Lord, I don't feel good, but I'm going to go for it. It's totally up to You. You gave me the voice, You can take it away if You want. I love this music, I've done the work and practiced it every day until it is totally a part of me. I think I sing it the way Bach meant for it to be sung, but if You don't want me to sing it, I'll collapse or something and then I'll know I wasn't meant to sing." It was a total 100% surrender on my part. After that, I still didn't know for sure but I felt like it would be OK, and it was. As I stood up for my aria, and the violinist behind me played the beautiful introduction, I was able to soak it in and enjoy the whole experience for what it was, and for the most part my voice felt strong and free, and it echoed in the church just the way I wanted it to. The rest of the performance went just as well, or better. The alto and tenor soloists were both amazing, and the choir followed the conductor to a tee. It was glorious.

Then I realized why Bach was so amazing and successful. He dedicated, or "surrendered" everything he wrote and did "Glory to God Alone." He literally signed every composition with three German letters, initials to stand for the equivalent of those words. Glory to God Alone.

It also makes me think of a favorite scripture from the Book of Mormon, 2nd Nephi 32:9. "But behold, I say unto you that ye must pray always, that ye must not perform anything unto the Lord save in the first place ye shall pray unto the Father, in the name of Christ, that he will consecrate thy performance unto thee, that thy performance may be for the welfare of thy soul."

I know Nephi wasn't really talking about singing here, but to me, nothing could be more appropriate and applicable. It was not the practicing and work on my part, but the praying and the actual consecrating that brought the success on Sunday. Glory to God Alone. Well said, Johann.