I once was an accomplished singer. When I was in college I was member of a 48 voice choir and we travelled throughout Europe and points north on several different occasions. I sang in so many places I truly can’t recall them all, there were alot and I did it for four years. I have heard the echoey reverb in the likes of Notre Dame Cathedral, St Paul’s Cathedral in London and Uppsala Cathedral in Sweden. This choir was a lot of sight reading and practice and lots of fun and it allowed me the opportunity to travel rather inexpensively.
Presently if I sing along with the radio, my very sweet husband will ask, “Do you know why those people are singing?” “No,” I reply curiously. “So you don’t have to”, is his smarty pants answer. After I pick myself up from the floor from the blow….I wonder a few things.
1. Perhaps I don’t sing as well as I have been led to believe.
2. I don’t sing as well as I used to.
3. I clearly am not the best singer in the family.
But with all of that thought out, it doesn’t hinder my singing at all except for the fact I am not in an organized singing group or a choir at this point in life. First of all I don’t go to church anymore and I’m not about to go just to sing. Secondly I am so picky about who I sing with, I want them to be good and know how to both carry a tune and know how to blend. What I do love however are all the old lounge tunes, like Linda Ronstadt did several years back. I love the swankiness of those tunes and how easy they are to sing.
So I had this thought about how fun it would be to be a lounge singer, in Vegas. I can picture it now. The room is dark, the only thing you can see is me on stage, I hold a white microphone. I am wearing the most gorgeous evening gown, I am a Diva. I have a pianist to accompany me and I am in full musical form. The crowd loves me as I belt out song after song, they beg for more and throw roses and love notes. Even Sweet husband loves my singing, after all he is the target of my love songs.
The show ends, I come off stage to my dressing room and I spy the clock. 6pm, right on target. I change and Sweet husband and I head off toward home to have dinner, rest a bit, watch a bit of HGTV and hit the sack by 10pm. Yes I know lounger singers usually sing late into the evening, but I can’t stay up past 10pm. Do you think that will derail my dream, not being able to stay up late?
Stayed tune for when I write about “short fat showgirls” another dream gone awry.