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Upcoming Performances

  • January 23 - 27 in New York, NY
    The Metropolitan Room, 34 W. 22nd St. With Tex Arnold on piano, and Tom Hubbard on bass. Show time is 7:30 on the Wednesday through Saturday the 23rd - 26th, and 7 PM on Sunday the 27th. Very civilized! For reservations - which are strongly recommended - and directions, call 212-206-0440, or go to www.metropolitanroom.com.
  • February 15 - 18, in Concord, MA
    Interplay Jazz 2008 Vocal Master Class. This class is open to students at all levels of experience. Class size is limited so as to give everyone attention and time to sing. For more information, and to download your application, go to http://www.interplayjazz.com. All aspects of good jazz vocal performance will be covered, with special attention given to the art of interpreting a lyric and communicating with the audience.
  • February 23 in Washington, DC
    "Words and Music" Master Class Location to be announced. A four-hour Master Class for singers of all genres and all levels of experience, with fellow instructor Wendy Lane Bailey. We will cover the basics of song performance, lyric interpretation, talking to the audience, sequencing a set, and working with a music director. Class size will be limited, so we can give each student attention. For more information, send an email to parkroadmanagement@verizon.net.
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June 11, 2008

Dancing on the Air

It was about ten years ago - possibly eleven - that I answered the phone in my home in the Adirondacks to find Jay Ungar and Molly Mason on the line. They were calling to invite me to do a guest appearance on their live radio show, Dancing on the Air. I said yes, drove south on the appointed date, and met these two musicians who, over the course of the next few years, quietly changed my life. A month or two after that show, they called again, this time asking me to teach that summer at Ashokan Fiddle and Dance, their yearly music camp in the Catskills. Again I said yes, though I had decided that I would be singing a capella the rest of my life, though I had never taught singing before, though I had never been to a sleepaway camp in my childhood. That "yes" proved - and proves again every year - to be one of the wisest decisions I have ever made.

How to describe Ashokan? I could speak of the lovely wooded setting, the lake, the stars at night. I could speak of the caliber of the musicianship of the staff (and the campers). Of the dancing every night to live music. Of the wonderful food prepared with fresh ingredients, the greatest of which is love.

Buit what I describe most often, and always with gratitude, is the mutual appreciation that is in the very air. The competitive model of the world is so often discovered to be not very useful. One sighs, one shrugs, one murmurs that nothing can be done. But at Ashokan something has been done: that model has been tossed aside. Instead, campers are encouraged and inspired by a great teaching staff, and applauded for the courage it takes to learn new skills. That staff, all professional musicians and dance teachers, delight in each other's growth and excellence. This means that is is OK to take up a new instrument, to ask for help in a tricky bit of music, to try a dance step, to look like a fool - because in all these one is supported and cherished. This is where I learned that what I thought, as a teenager, is true: competition is not natural. You have to be taught. What is natural is to gather in community and to delight in each others' accomplishments and triumphs, and to grieve over each others' sorrows (for a fascinating theological/philosophical view of the origins of competition and misdirected desire, I recommend Réné Girard's book, I See Satan Fall Like Lightning). Teaching at Western and Swing Week has become the north star of my year, and my reminder that we are all family, and I am looking forward again to being there this summer (for information on dates and on Western and Swing, Northern, and Southern weeks, click here.

Today, I am taking a car ride, leaving the city and driving north to Albany with accompanist/arranger Tex Arnold to make another guest appearance on Dancing on the Air. It has been a few years since my last time on the stage at the Linda Norris Auditorium, and Tex has never been there. I have picked out the songs I will sing, but I know that there will be some last minute additions, and some spontaneous musical combinations that will reflect Jay and Molly's own eclectic musical tastes and their camaraderie, and their belief in the power of music and in people. I invite you to tune in and join us, no matter where you are.  The show is aired on WAMC at 8 PM (eastern daylight savings time) and can be heard online at www.wamc.org.

May 23, 2008

I'm back

I haven't written for a while. A long while. I didn't realize how long until someone asked if everything was OK.

Yes, everything is OK. So why did I stop writing for a time?

Well, I had a few comments about the content of the site, from people who felt I was making a big mistake in discussing matters of faith. "Nobody wants to read this", said one."They'll think you are one of those people who go around trying to convert everyone." "This is bad for your career," said another. "Stick to music."

I had to think about that for a little while. I appreciate the comments, and the concern behind them. I will continue to write about the things that mean most to me. I choose not to go backwards. The barn door is open, and the horse is already racing the wind.

Blessings to all.

February 04, 2008

Let's Rise to the Occasion

Tomorrow American voters in twenty-four states have the privilege of voting in their primary elections. I have made my choice of candidate, as I am hoping you have. Please exercise your right, raise your voice, cast your vote. Together we can do great things.
Blessings on you all.

January 10, 2008

I met the grand array...

Some thoughts flitting about as I really should be practicing...

1. How wise were those Wise Men? According to Matthew, they came to Jerusalem, asking, 'Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we have observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage. When King Herod heard this, he was frightened...(NRSV). Other translations use troubled or perturbed. My French Bible uses ému, which means overwhelmed with emotion. How would he not be? Wasn't he king of the Jews?
So It occurs to me that the wise men were very observant of the heavens, but oblivious to human behavior. They went to the royal city to ask "where's the child who will is the real king?"; this might be like saying to your wife, "I just met the most fascinating woman", when you don't mean her. There are things one might think twice about saying.
Wise, OK. Smart? Perhaps not so very.

2. Herod wasn't quite up on his reading of prophecy - other things to do - and sent for his own chief priests and scribes to find out where the Messiah was to be born. I wonder - these priests seem to have been neglecting to remind Herod of those prophecies. He had to send for them to ask. The account doesn't say that they withdrew to research the literature. No, they apparently answered immediately, telling him "Bethlehem", and quoting the relevant writings. So they knew. And Bethlehem is not far from Jerusalem, only about five miles. An easy walk, even carrying weapons...

Must practice songs, must practice.

December 25, 2007

Merry Christmas!

God has come among us. A joyous Christmas to all!

The gift of keeping Advent is this: Christmas is newly-born only last night, and now there are twelve days of it to relish. God rest you merry one and all, every early and late, every dark, every light.

December 19, 2007

Red wings, grey sky

I am still ailing, and spending a lot of time looking out the window because I feel too fuzzy to do much else, but... the rewards of this gazing are huge. I watch the sky change through the course of the day. I see birds, starlings and sparrows for the most part, picking the last fruits off the branches. Their feathers are puffed up for insulation and they all look like feather balls. If my cat happens to be sitting on the sill, he watches them quietly, motionless except for the twitching tip of his tail.

Yesterday and today a pair of cardinals has spent time on the branch closest to my window. He is extravagantly red, she more muted, together they are glorious. Watching them, I am altogether happy.
It's simple. Exuberantly extravagant beauty lands on the nearest branch. Pay attention. Consider the cardinals.

December 09, 2007

More Advent thoughts on a rainy Sunday

1. There are still two weeks left of Advent, two weeks until Christmas Eve, two weeks before Christmas songs are actually à propos. Please can't we wait? St. Jude, where are you? I may have a lost cause here. 
All this holy time of Advent can give one time to quietly consider what it means to have a savior, born as one of us, come to save, to heal, to  illuminate, to energize us, kick us lovingly into action, and to bind us all together as children of God. Perhaps you are ready for the Lord to be born. I need time. Oh boy do I need time, very serious prayer time. The gentle Jesus meek and mild is the most powerful force for change that I have ever encountered, and I need to get ready to - again! - have everything change. Everything. Every single thing.

2. I grew up on Christmas music, on Fred Waring's recordings that featured my grandfather's glorious baritone, and Robert Shaw's exquisite choral work. I love them. I do not have a bah! humbug! bone in my body. But raised as I was in a Reformed tradition, I spent my childhood being pounded from Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve with "Christ is born" songs, when he wasn't yet, so what was Advent? and then it was Christmas Day and by Christmas afternoon, poof! it was over. What happened to the other 12 days? What do you mean, just a song?

3. Lent leads to joy, but it passes through great pain. Advent, too, moves soberly, but straight to joy.

December 08, 2007

Expectancy

Advent. Waiting for something.

We wait for God, who is always with us. to come to be us, to be one of us, to join us in the web of senses through which we experience the world, and with which we try to capture and comprehend God. The language of the body, through the body, is the language we understand, for better and for worse.

We wait for God to come to us, take on our vision, and teach us how to use our eyes. If, in the Incarnation, God's human eyes are like our human eyes, then what is to prevent us from seeing as God sees? Only the hardness of our hearts, which we are promised can be changed. I will take away your hearts of stone and give you hearts of flesh (Ezekial 36:26).

We wait to be shown that what God asks of us can be done by us, in our bodies, in our senses, in our earthbound lives. We can love each other right here. We can hear each other right now. We can touch in comfort and blessing with the hands we have in this life. Jesus comes and shows us the way.

Christmas is an extravagant celebration of the Word made flesh. Come, Lord Jesus.

October 29, 2007

Autumn in New York

I walked across Central Park today to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It's closed on Mondays, which  I had forgotten. So I didn't visit great works of art, at least not framed ones. But I did see the most beautiful Irish Wolfhound imaginable. He was big-boned, well-built, magnificent. A different kind of work of art and greatness. I asked to pet him, his owner acquiesced, the dog graciously accepted my attention.

Then, as I walked back across the park to the west side, I felt myself slip into sadness. Or rather, there was suddenly a sadness on me, a beautiful and apt Irish expression. The sadness was on me, not in me. I miss my dogs. I usually feel this as an inner glow of joy for having had them at all. Sometimes, though, I feel the weight of their absence, heavy, grey, and sad.

I don't remember what I have written about them, but here is what they were: Shekinah, a Belgian Tervuren named after the feminine aspect of God, was courage and willfulness and incandescence. Wisdom 7:22 - 25a actually describes her perfectly, and here is some of it:

For within her is a spirit intelligent, holy,
unique, manifold, subtle,
mobile, incisive, unsullied,
lucid, invulnerable, benevolent, shrewd,
irresistible, beneficent, friendly to human beings,
steadfast, dependable...
quicker to move than any motion...
She is a breath of the power of God...

Shekinah was pushy. She taught that a car ride is an adventure, a walk is pure joy, and that sometimes it is appropriate to stand your ground, growl, and show an elegant sharp tooth.

My Shadow, a Belgian Sheepdog, was a quieter soul, devotion embodied. Faithfulness. Trust.  This dog had a noble heart and attitude, friendly to all people, but adoring only one. This was not so as to be adored in return, not like we do when we say "I love you" so as to force the reply "I love you, too,"  but rather loving  because he couldn't help himself, because he could do no other, a constant outpouring of love. He made more friends in his brief time here in the city than I had ever dreamed possible, as people gravitated to him, and felt good in his presence. His verse is Acts 18:9b - 10:

I am with you. I have so many people that belong to me in this city that no one will attempt to hurt you.

These are the companions I am missing today, on a crisp autumn day, when the sunlight is golden, the air in the park smells of earth and leaves,and none of the dogs are mine. It seems to me, though, that I still have my dog-inspired tasks: Christ calls us to love - can't I be as joyous as Shekinah? and as devoted as my Shadow? It's the least a human can do.

September 18, 2007

Change of Heart

"I do believe that our prayers can change the heart of God "

I read this in a blog this morning, and I am quoting it out of context because I don't even remember the context, don't remember which blog, and have already cleared my computer history. The sentence, however, has stayed with me. Prayers can change the heart of God.

I don't think it's God's heart that changes. Prayer changes our hearts. The patient and  constant love that is the heart of God needs no changing. We, on the other hand, can use all the help we can get. Our human love, when we have it at all, is conditional. Flighty. Or, to put it kindly, nuanced at the very least. Prayer is what God uses to re-balance us toward his infinite mercy, to remind us that we are loved and that the only response required is to love him right back, and love all that he loves. Which is everyone and every thing. Every stick, every cloud, every clever parrot (R.I.P. Alex the Grey), every ripple of water, and every human being. No exceptions. Which is really difficult. Perhaps impossible on our own, and sometimes we do not want to lean toward God, to talk to him. Sometimes we don't know how to even begin.

But we have help. St. Paul wrote: "The Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness, for, when we do not know how to pray properly, then the Spirit personally makes our petitions for us in groans that cannot be put into words, and he who can see into all hearts knows what the Spirit means..." And Jesus reminds us that he is everyone and everything, doesn't he, when he says, "insofar as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me."  This kindness, or this neglect. Our choice. But the opportunity for a loving response is always here. Every moment one's heart can break, and break wide open.