Jury Rituals & the Stemless Polka Dotted Wine Glass

Last night, while nibbling a late dinner and playing Candyland (new version stinks) at Dram Shop, I was rushed by sudden waves of intense nausea.Ugh. Am I sick? No. Hungry? No. Pregnant? No. Thirsty? Maybe. Nervous? Blleeeeeuuuuuuuuhhhhhh [huge wave of confirmation nausea] YES. Yes, I am nervous. Nervous because the next morning (this morning) was to be my first time standing up in front of people, performing one of my own songs.

I started brainstorming at the table with Lemon Peele and Professor Lime about ways I could trick myself into not being nervous. Alaska sarcastically suggested the whole underwear thing but that has never worked for me. Suggestion, nausea, suggestion, nausea, suggestion, then AHA!

At the end of each semester, music majors are required to play a "jury" in front of the faculty for her/his instrument family. Voice majors in front of the entire vocal faculty, oboe majors in front of the full woodwind faculty, French horn majors (like myself) in front of the brass faculty. As you might guess from the fact that these are called juries, the student's entire grade for the semester is on trial in this 30 minute slot. S/he plays two prepared pieces (fast and slow in contrasting styles), the faculty "calls scales" of all stripes (F# harmonic minor!) and s/he plays them on the spot. It's the kind of thing that can make music not at all music-y. Anyhow, I developed a few rituals in undergrad that helped me cope with and even enjoy juries.

1. I would always sign up for the first available slot after the faculty's afternoon break, in their final stretch for the day. (They sit through juries all day long.)
2. The night before, after practicing my brains out, I'd make two or three batches of cookies and prepare a baggie full of treats for each member of the faculty.
3. I'd arrive about 30 minutes early for my jury, and when the faculty members went out for their coffee break, I'd go into the room and take over. Drop off the cookies. Warm up on my horn. Play and sing my favorite Sarah McLachlan songs at the piano. Make that space mine all mine all mine.
4. When the faculty members returned from their break, we'd chat, they'd munch cookies, and we'd all happily get started.

Now: the power was not in bribery. The brass faculty at JMU had the wherewithal to withstand the pressure of delicious oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip cookies. The power was in ownership of the room. You walk into a room and see a panel of judges behind a table? It's their room and they hold the power. You're sitting at a piano, playing your favorite songs and sharing cookies, when a few folks walk in and sit down at a table? That's your room and you hold the power.

So, I asked myself last night what I could do to make the PSUMC sanctuary my room today and I set a plan in motion. Get there first. (Easy, had to be there at 9AM for sound check anyhow.) Bring my very favorite drinking glass from home (for water in case of cotton mouth) — a stemless polka dotted red wine glass that The Duo got us at Big Lots a few years ago. Walk around and talk to people before the service. Say a few words at the mic. And the biggest, most important declaration of ownership is built-in!

This is my song. I wrote it. And you weren't there when I did. It's mine. And there's no such thing as messing up because it doesn't exist until I sing it.

I'm thinking this is going to be a very powerful thing about songwriting for me — this is music on which I am the world's best and only expert. And, as I stood there with my special polka dotted wine glass full of lukewarm water, I thought: "Aha. So this is how divas are born..."

"I was cranky, and I lost my high notes"

Dearest OMG sent me a few copies of October's Classical Singer magazine, for which she interviewed me on the topic of dealing with negative reviews. And, after flipping through her well-spun narrative, my eyes settled on a piece entitled "Does Size Matter?"

At first I wasn't sure whether I'd forgive the title.

But speaking of body image and singing careers . . . gee, it's validating when a trade magazine covers something mere weeks after I've blogged about it. Vocal teacher and CS contributor Michelle Latour surveyed singers at the 2010 conference in LA regarding body image, body size, and the impact of both on singers. Check out this gem:

"Dramatic soprano Barbara DeMaio Caprilli revealed, 'I was forced to lose 60 pounds under the threat of being fired when I was in a Young Artist Program in the early 1990s. At the time I did not know that I had Celiac Disease. I had to go to 900 calories a day in order to keep my job. I was cranky, and I lost my high notes.'"

You have to understand us: there's something especially crazymaking about gluten and thyroid-related diseases. My doctors and my nutritionist all tell me that I have one, yet I still suspect that I'm exaggerating or making all of this up, or that I've simply somehow misunderstood how to lose weight. Like, even when I'm counting all of my calories, fiber, protein, water, etc. and exercising like a monster, my body somehow knows that I like the 1280 calories I'm eating and if I could just like them less, then nutritional math would apply to me. Come on, Scarlet, it's easy! If you just forever cut out wine, cocktails, dessert, dairy, soy, grains, breads, sugar, chocolate, baked goods, cruciferous vegetables, strawberries, and meat, you could totally be in shape. You're just not trying hard enough.

I know it's harsh. But if you get it, you get it, and I want to be 'gotten.' On the upside, I am a powerhouse from all of my exercise. If you are reading this, chances are I could detach my left leg, leave it in the middle of the floor, and it could single-leggedly destroy you and your entire family in a cage match. Apply here.

But more to the point, 93 percent of singers surveyed agree that body image influences their singing and ability to communicate on stage. Laura Ockey points out, "...it is difficult for the audience to concentrate...if the body-type is too wrong... ."

Meaning, bottom line, that it's about stage presence and stage presence is about belief. Am I communicating the joy, rage, comfort, humor, sensuality, and wistfulness of my songs or am I communicating insecurity, unease, failure, guardedness? Can the audience believe what I'm singing in this singer/songwriter role, as I look, dress, sound, and act?

Or, the harder question: Can I believe myself? YES. Yes, I can. And this is the work, the work, the work.