Back to Before

I. Ever “after”

Born out of the combination of full-time parenting and part-time self-employment, the twin approaches of get it going and good enough take me far . Yet in my mad dash toward done or “after,” I’ve often lacked the patience to buckle down and dive into the minutia of “before” where rich learning occurs; the kind that builds muscle and depth.

Rediscovering singing in 2018 infused me with energy and joy. Despite not having sung on stage for 20 years, I didn’t hire a director or a vocal coach for my one-woman show in June. I cited budget reasons, but I also had vulnerability reasons; I could only take myself so seriously.  Thanks to YouTube tutorials, an affordable accompanist, and the eye of some talented writer/performer friends, I made do relying on self-discipline, a very firm very public deadline, and prepation on my own, in my home, per my usual.

The show gave me a high. It also gave me insomnia. I don’t miss either. Much. I do miss the energy and the joy. See, I’ve hardly sung a note since the show. Without an after, I also gave up on before; even with YouTube, even with an affordable accompanist. I simply don’t sing.

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II. Back to before

So. After giving myself 100 reasons why I do not need voice coaching, I reconsidered voice coaching anyhow–for accountability, to get me singing, and because frankly even though I love my life, I need more energy and joy. If I schedule a lesson, I will prepare for that lesson. Before/after.

I tried one lesson from a delightful teacher, and left exhausted and full of doubt–a vulnerability hangover. I could only take myself so seriously. So. very. ridiculously. seriously. Me being (so annoyingly) myself.

Two days after the lesson, I chaperoned the high school orchestra field trip. The kids took a master class with UW-Milwaukee music faculty. Watching the professor’s direction–constant interruptions changing bow position, tempo, and phrasing–reminded me what skill acquisition and improvement requires. Each student opened themselves to the master, trusting and following his instruction with small yet profound immediate results.

Well hello and howdy to you too, Universe.

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III. We can never go back to before

Thankfully, I narrowly escaped serious-ing myself out of trying another lesson.

The second teacher is a mom of two boys, like I am. She met her husband at a theater, like I did. She lives right in my neighborhood?!?  Well played, Universe.

Her resume intimdated me, until about 15 seconds after meeting her. We connected immediately. We laughed a lot. We teared up over creativity, midlife, and motherhood. She complimented my breath capacity and range, and I gave myself a midlife high-five. I might not be as slim as I was in my twenties, but I’m in hecka slammin’ shape. We shared a singer’s shorthand about what do where with the voice and the music, her confidence firing-up my own. She lit up saying “it’s so fun to work with someone who knows what they’re doing.” Then, this gem that could’ve gutted me, but instead filled me with excitement:

“It almost sounds like you’re trying to sing younger. We’re going to find your voice now.” 

CUE ENERGY FIREWORKS JOY FOUNTAINS OF ANN’S HEART

She nailed it. In my show I reached back to my voice twenty years ago, relying on twenty year old muscle memory, twenty year old roles, and twenty year old me. Forever stalled in ingenue land, I neglected to consider the power-mom roles and my own leading lady voice FFS!

My first assignment is “Back To Before” from Ragtime “We can never go back to before, we can never. go back. to. be-fore….”

If you know the show, the context of the song feels powerfully relevant today as white women become “woke.” The out of context meaning only now struck me as I wrote this post, however; back to writing, back to singing, back to learning. We can never go back to before, and I no longer wish to.

High five, Universe. High five, midlife.  High five leading ladies!!