The three of us, having sung together before in a Jazz Ensemble, found ourselves in a small studio with a portable digital track recorder. We were each handed a set of headphones, sheet music, and told to stand close to the enormous RCA microphone. We grinned stupidly at each other, sang timidly, fussed and chided, and generally were shy and overwhelmed. We can sing to an audience, but this-- this was intimidating beyond what we expected.
More than an hour had passed when we started to find our place together. Then we became perfectionists. “No, we can do it better!” we’d protest. Singing alive, three girls on one microphone. I’m told to move in closer, trade places, get into the mike…LET GO, GIRL! So we fight to find the blend and balance and intensity—and there it is!! And we soar and swoop and hold off on the vibrato until we can bend together on the vowel-dipthong change. We rock and sway and mug each other with silly looks. We hang on the Mad Bulgarian’s facial expressions. Ah, he’s not happy yet. “C’mon Boril, give us an entrance, we can do this!”
And then, as though the sun itself decided to shine on us in blessed splendor, Boril smiles, the mix master smiles, the sound man shakes his head in disbelief at the beauty we just created…and we grin like little girls who just discovered the ocean for the first time.
Sep 15, 2007