Breaking Through the Silence

On Saturday I sang at my friend Beth’s wedding. This time it was just me and the piano. This was the most naked performance I’ve done yet. It was back in Shove Chapel, that glorious stone, wood and stain glassed sanctuary. It echos in there. Sound bounces around on it’s own whim which has the effect of exaggerating the silence. Suddenly you hear things you don’t normally hear. Making any sound becomes an agreement to get noticed. You become careful with your movement. You don’t shift in your seat or clear your throat. When you walk you become inclined to tiptoe instead of clomping your feet.

The wedding guest were going to hear every sound I made or didn’t make. Not only because of acoustics, but if I backed away from a note or phrase there would be no other music or voice to cover what I missed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that much responsibility for a song. Usually I am singing harmonies and you can get away with a lot when you aren’t carrying the melody of the song. You can drop phrases, or not sing a line you can even play around with the tempo of the phrases you sing and no one is necessarily going to notice that it’s a mistake, at least not in the style I usually sing in.

Now obviously if you’re the soloist you’re suppose to be noticed. It’s all about what's coming out of you. Earlier in the week I went to check the sound. I was a wreck. I heard my voice break the silence in that large and empty space and I became overpowered with the judgments that may be passed about my voice. Hence, I sang terribly, forgot the words and uncomfortably eked out the higher notes. I felt awful. I was disappointed. I knew I could do better. I’d heard myself do better. Would I forever be a nervous wreck and never get the song out of me that I knew I could get out of me?

I spent the week in an exercise of trying to get over it. I knew I could sing the songs, but the factor I could not practice was the nervousness that is only produced under pressure. So there was really nothing else I could do before then to change things.

Saturday morning arrived there was set up and another sound check and half the ceremony and then finally the piano began to play and it was time to open my mouth and fill the silence, not just to make sound in it, but to fill it with something meaningful and beautiful. I was shaking, but to my relief my voice was not. I could hear it out there filling the corners and bouncing around in the boat shaped rafters. Beth and Scott washed each others feet. I could see them full of delight for each other. I knew the words of the song meant something to them personally, so I sang for them. It felt like a sigh and the more I heard what I wanted to hear coming out of me the more I relaxed. It was good.

Afterward people looked at me sincerely and intently and told me so. Strangers walked across the room to tell me how beautiful it was. I could hear it in their voices and see it in their faces that the impact was good. My friends felt proud of me. I was happy. The inner world of my expectations and hopes met reality, a little taste of transcendence.