Those of you who know me already know that I was classically trained at Memorial University's School of Music. A mezzo-soprano, I've performed some of the more interesting roles in the opera repertoire, like the Sorceress in Purcell's Dido and Aeneas (oh, to have the chance to sing this role again!) and Arnalta in Monteverdi's Coronation of Poppea. One of my favourite moments of my undergrad was performing Schumann's Frauenliebe und -Leben song cycle with my accompanist and partner in crime, Heather Hillier. We did a killer final graduation recital together, which after ticking all of the boxes in terms of required repertoire ended with "God Bless the Child." I've always loved popular music of the early twentieth century.
After leaving music school, I took a bit of a break from performing, at least the formal kind. I sang a few Newfoundland songs in a world music sampler at one point and performed a concert version of Phantom of the Opera in my residence at University of Alberta, but mostly I just sang for my own enjoyment (refreshing after years in music school). During my doctoral studies, I began singing with a First Nation drum group in St. John's, which presented it's own interesting challenges in terms of vocal production.
Back at Memorial University during this time period, I also had the opportunity to perform "Someone to Watch Over Me" at a farewell recital in honour of my undergraduate vocal instructor, Catherine Fitch. I remember the reaction I got that day after performing with Maureen Volk. It was like none I'd ever received before. Many musicians I respected said they hoped that there was a piano bar in Cape Breton (they knew I was moving soon), because I clearly had found my niche -- I was destined to be a lounge singer.
The first time I moved to Cape Breton, I didn't find a piano bar. Instead, I found the Cape Breton Chorale. I had a great time performing with them for a year, before returning to Newfoundland for a year. The second time I moved to Cape Breton, however, things were different.
I can't really remember when the first opportunity to sing jazz emerged in Cape Breton. It may have been before or after my performance at the farewell gala in honour of the president of the university. I sang "Con te partiro" with an accomplished local quartet, much to the surprise of my colleagues who didn't know of my musical background. This was all arranged by my then-supervisor Keith Brown and it was a wonderful experience to be back performing again. I mean, really performing -- practice, rehearsals, dress, make-up, hair, lights, a few nerves, and sing! But at some point during this period of re-emergence as a singer -- and honestly, by this point I really had stopped thinking of myself as a musician and more as an academic -- an opportunity to sing at a scholarship fundraiser presented itself. I decided quickly that I wanted to sing a few Gershwin tunes, as well as "God Bless the Child," "When I Fall In Love," and "Makin' Whoopee." I contacted Chris McDonald to ask if he would collaborate and he said yes.
This was one of my favourite performances ever. A great introduction by a funny emcee -- Ian Brodie -- who encouraged the audience to snap instead of clap for me. You see, in my bio, I had written (as a joke) that my jazz alter ego was Ginger Snaps (which makes sense if you know I'm a ginger). The stage name stuck. And Chris and I were really together in our performance (which makes sense, considering I think I insisted we rehearse a number of times and he patiently and kindly put up with me). But most importantly, I was finally singing the sentimental (and sometimes saucy) songs from the 1920s, 30s, and 40s that I love.
Side note: I challenge you to find a better song than one written by Gershwin. It simply doesn't exist. The lyrics. The emotion. The jazz tinge of Tin Pan Alley. Pure magic.
From there, new opportunities emerged. Chris, who was well-connected in the jazz scene here, passed my name along to Carl Getto in case he needed a vocalist. And Carl and I met on a regular basis trying out tunes in a variety of keys to see what might work. Soon, I had the chance to sing in the chapel at the Fortress of Louisbourg with a full band. It was literally a dream come true. Chris and I periodically did performances together -- a half hour of music at the Christmas craft show at the university, the scholarship fundraiser. Carl and I did an evening of song during the jazz festival. The larger group performed at an international student banquet and a Habitat for Humanity fundraiser.
In my wildest dreams, I never would have imagined that all of this would come to me here, in this place. And as I reflect on last night's performance with Chris McDonald, Red Mike MacDonald, and Johnny Hawkins, I am truly grateful for the chance to be on a stage singing songs that I love. (Hat tip to Stephanie MacPherson for her role in booking us as the entertainment for the Roaring Twenties event.)
But more than that, I'm grateful for the opportunity to learn more and grow as a musician. Every performance has been challenging -- in a good way. I'm learning to be a much better listener, to know where we are in a tune based on the chord progression rather than always wanting to hear the melody. I'm learning to stray from the written score and play a little with the melody. I'm learning that as much as you might want to plan everything out, you can't. Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow. (Reluctantly, perhaps, but you have to go with it nevertheless. Listen to Heart, not to Brain, for any of you Awkward Yeti fans.) I'm also learning what to listen for in a monitor -- something I never had to do for classical music -- and to ask if I want the mix altered. (Well, ok, I'm still working on that last part, but Christopher Jones has been incredibly helpful and pleasant to work with.) I'm learning that perfection isn't the goal. And most of all, I'm learning the importance of not taking things so seriously and having a sense of humour about it all.
Just go with the flow. Have a sense of humour. Perfection isn't the goal. Life lessons brought to yours truly by the jazz scene in Cape Breton.
Photo credit: Keith Brown (lifted from Twitter)
