I said to a friend yesterday “Well, I have to go now, we’re recording today.” Her eyes lit up like stars “You’re RECORDING today???”
Ah yes, the false images held by the uninitiated. Of course, I didn’t correct her; you want your friends to BELIEVE it’s glamorous.
The truth is not as interesting. First, I live in San Diego where there are 4 variations of one season; Summer. There is Winter-Summer, Spring-Summer, Summer-Summer, and Autumn-Summer. Autumn-Summer is hotter than Summer-Summer actually. My favorite month in San Diego is September. All the tourists have gone back home to the desert of Arizona now that it’s only 95 degrees and not the 122 degrees it was in July and August. We San Diegans have our beaches and highways to ourselves again, and it’s been warmer than our usual 75 degrees. However, heat is not something desirable in the process of recording.
Electrical currents of any kind give off a frequency that recording devices pick up. That means the first thing you do when you’re about to record is “Kill the A/C” – turn off the air conditioning and any fans. Next, you lock all doors and windows and cocoon yourself into a space with 100 of your closest friends. You silently pray they have all remembered to wear deodorant. With 100 singers on risers that were built to hold 80, you stand arm to arm. The temperature 5 minutes after killing the air is roughly that of a sauna, or the aforementioned Arizona desert from which people fled in droves all summer.
The music had been recorded earlier in the day, as had the solos. Now it was the choirs’ turn. The recording studio dude played the music very softly in the background, not wanting the music to get feedback in the microphones, and we began to sing.
The first notes ring out, 3 seconds into the song “STOP! CUT! Someone was tapping their foot, which picks up on the recording, don’t tap your feet!” Okay, no foot tapping. Got it. We start again, same opening chords. “STOP! Someone is singing an octave higher than everyone else! This is supposed to be UNISON. If you can’t hit the notes just drop out until you can hit them again.” Okay, Unison. Got it. We start up again. One whole verse down. We launch into the second verse and “STOP! The second time through you break into parts! You’re still singing unison.” Okay, parts. Got it. We jump in again and on a line that is repeated 3 times, we sing it twice and on the third “Stop! The third time it goes up. Try it again” We tried it again with the recording mikes turned off for practice. No, that still wasn’t it. The director sings it to us. Everyone nods as though they understand. Yes, now they have it. We sing it again. Someone still sings it wrong. We all look around trying to determine who the culprit is.
By now, we have had an hour of no fans or air conditioning. Sweat is pouring down our faces, women’s make-up has washed away, and our clothes are drenched. If we looked like a million dollars when we showed up, we looked like 5 cents now or maybe even just a peso. The director asks “Is everyone okay?” I yell down “I’m warning you, I’ve already started undressing.” and I waved my blouse around in the air which I had taken off 10 minutes ago. The other ladies wanted to take off their blouses but they are more concerned with modesty than I am. I had a tank top under my shirt, and figured as long as my breasts weren’t totally bare, I was doing okay.
We began again, and the director, wanting us to speed up forgot what he was doing and snapped his fingers, which meant we had to start again. We finally got the first verse down, and the second verse comes along which is only the first verse, but in Spanish. We begin to sing the word “Alaba” – “STOP! CUT!” a debate ensues about whether the correct pronunciation is Uh-Lob- Ah, or Ah-Lava, as the “B” in this word in Spanish is a sound that is somewhere between B and V. Various Spanish speaking people give their strongly held opinions about how it should be sung, and we settle on “Ah-Lava” This happens again at the word “Digno” Is it Dig-No, or Deen-Yo? Dig-No wins out.
We finally get both verses recorded, and come to the Big Finale which requires all 100 of us to do something in absolute perfect timing. The last phrase is broken, a word cut in pieces, for dramatic purposes. Levanta Adorcion, which is to be sing Levant- Ah (break) Dor(Break) I (break) Shoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooone for 8 full counts. (Try it, it’s very hard.) We attempt this 5 times in a row, and each time, 1 person keeps coming in a beat too early. We do it over and over and over again. I start imagining myself kicking the person who can’t keep beat. I start thinking things to myself like “Are you sure your calling is in choir? I hear they need Parking Lot Attendants or Sunday school teachers for 2 year olds.”
About the 8th time we sing the word Adoricion for the 8 counts, I become quite certain I am going to faint. The lady next to me says “I feel like I’m going to pass out” and I felt better to know I’m not alone. (Just for kicks someday lock yourself into a really small hot space where you can’t breathe or move, and then sing one single note until you get dizzy.) 2 hours have passed and we have finished one 2 minute song. We still have another song to go.
Before we began, I barely knew the lady beside me. Now, we have become fast friends, as we have been stuck together and sweaty for a long time. Our director tells us we can sit, and we all cheer in glee, but then people look around as though they are on a Twister Board, (Right foot- Green!) with 100 people trying to figure out how they can sit on the steps without knocking the person in front of them down to the floor. It takes a good 5 minutes for everyone to be seated, and then comes the ugly realization that we are now sitting with other people’s hot sweaty bodies leaning against our knees which make us even hotter than we were. After about 3 minutes of this, we are ready to begin again, and we play Reverse Twister as everyone tries to get back up. One of the older ladies says something I have only previously heard in commercials “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” Okay, that’s a lie. She really only said the last part – “I can’t get up!” One of the men and I tried desperately to help her, but she couldn’t unbend her knees. It was like when little kids pick up their feet when holding hands with 2 adults and say “Swing me!” except she was a 60 year old woman who weighs considerably more than your average 5 year old. She nearly pulled all 3 of us down to a violent and sweaty demise.
We begin again with the next song. We have an odd mix of people – some who have been part of this choir for 20 years, some who just joined last week. The veterans have practiced and sung this song many times. The new people heard it for the first time a week ago, and even with the motivational phrase, “We’re going to RECORD this song on Saturday.” they didn’t bother to learn the words.
The final chorus is simple “You Are. You Are. You Mean….” But the new people keep singing “You Are, You Are, You Are…” Instead of “You Are, You Are, You Mean…” I am sweltering. I am certain I am going to keel over. They have turned a light on directly in my eye. It is reminiscent of the sliver of sunset when you are driving that your visor can’t block out that blinds you. I cannot breathe and my throat feels like I have swallowed a Brillo pad. I am not a patient woman to begin with, and when I am hot and about to collapse; even less so. I think mean thoughts in my head. “I printed out words you morons, can’t you pick up the paper and READ them?” and other ugly things Church Secretary’s should not be thinking. I’m supposed to be a spiritual leader, and a good example. This is Ministry, after all. But at that particular moment, I was just your average impatient idiot.
The memory plays tricks on you. I hadn’t recorded anything in 20 years. When contemplating the notion of recording this weekend, I time traveled back to my old life in the theatre. I conjured up a happy ‘memory’ which looked like a scene from the movie “Fame” where people dance on cafeteria tables and everyone spontaneously bursts into a tribute song to the Lunch Lady. Much in the same way you think in passing that Jr. High was fun until you *really* focus and remember the kid who tripped you in gym class or knocked your books out of your hands, or getting grounded for 6 weeks for a “D” in Algebra class, or the time your Dad busted you for shoplifting an Olivia Newton John record from K-Mart. (Or was that just me?) Suddenly, it dawns on you – “Oh yeah, that wasn’t really very much fun after all.”
So, while I believe the end result will be Joyous - a CD with wonderfully uplifting music, played expertly by a slammin’ Latin band, and a hot 100 voice choir – that it will bless, encourage and inspire all who hear it; the actual recording of said CD wasn’t as fun as I will remember it when I’m 60.
-Tamilu© 2005
