I just spent a day rehearsing for a performance in Tiverton, RI.
It’s a new show called “In Perfect Harmony” with fellow singer Bobbi Carrey and pianist/composer Doug Hammer — in which all the songs include at least a partial harmony somewhere.
Because we have been performing together for ten years — and since one of our favorite things to do is sing in harmony — we have a lot of material to choose from.
The show also includes quotations and anecdotes about the process of collaboration — which for us has involved a great arranger, Mike Callahan.
From time to time we send Mike recordings from our rehearsals, along with detailed notes about which harmonic ideas we think show promise and which need help.
Invariably he sends charts back to us that both improve our ideas AND surprise us with some great new musical impulses.
At the top of this blog post is our version of the Johnny Mercer/Henry Mancini classic “Moon River” if you are curious to hear the fruits of this collaborative process.
Deep breath in.
And deep breath out.
There is something very intimate and satisfying about singing with someone else — whether in unison or harmony.
And since electricity entered — and in many ways took over — our daily lives during the last century, our patterns and habits of singing have certainly evolved…
Crooning along with the radio or a CD or a song being streamed on Pandora or Spotify is great — yet it’s very different from singing with another real live human being in the present moment.
I just returned from a week in upstate NY at a wonderful, ramshackle family cottage with no internet access and no TV called the Rice Heritage.
My great grandfather James E. Rice bought this cottage (I think from fellow Cornell professors John Henry Comstock and Anna Botsford Comstock — who was the first woman to become a professor at Cornell University).
James E. Rice was a professor of poultry science at Cornell and had a farm — called the Egg and Apple Farm on Rice Road — just up the hill from this cottage in Trumansburg, NY.
He and his wife Elsie Van Buren Rice raised six children — three girls and three boys — almost all of whom ended up owning farms, too, when they grew up and married.
Sadly, however, Elsie died when their youngest daughter was still a teenager.
James ended up leaving the family’s cottage — overlooking Cayuga Lake — to his six children plus their descendants.
And many of his descendants continue to take turns staying there each summer in one- and two-week increments of time.
This summer one of my older cousins told me about songs she had heard as a child from her parents and grandparents — some of which were originally sung by people working outside in gardens and fields as a way (according to my cousin) to pass the time and remain connected with their neighbors.
What a different era — and mode — of human connectedness!
Another deep breath in.
And deep breath out.
Using my ukulele and the great “Daily Ukulele” songbooks, we sang together most nights on the beach around a camp fire — while the younger members of our family roasted marshmallows and made s’mores for all to eat.
Yum!
I could do this for hours — and in fact on the last night I did play without a break for over three hours.
Music.
Stars above.
Friends and family all around.
Lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore.
Bliss.
THANK YOU for reading — and listening to — this (recently updated) blog post.
Thank you, too, to Bobbi Carrey, Doug Hammer and Mike Callahan for their musical contributions.
Thank you to Pixabay for the lovely photos of hydrangeas!
Thank you to my great grandfather and great grandmother for their generous foresight in buying this cottage and then leaving it to their descendants.
And thank you to all of my cousins who have pitched in — decade after decade — to keep the Rice Heritage intact and functional for generations to come.
Hurrah for summer!
