Musical feels

It's been a rough couple of days. I'm never going to underestimate an unpleasant living situation again, because this one has put me through the mill and it's only been four days. I've been a neurotic wreck in that brief window; even ballet class did nothing to make me feel better. (Incidentally, I started to write about that but it turned into a rant, so I'll put that post on hold.) When I get really upset and I'm far from my family, sometimes I read books that remind me of them, but since my schedule is a little busy I opted to listen to music that reminded me of them instead.

I do that a lot, actually. For instance, at camp over the summer we had really nice Saturday morning breakfasts. It was supposed to be a good send-off for the campers, and everyone did look forward to those breakfasts, but I did not. Everyone's favorite fancy breakfast is a warm, gooey cinnamon roll, so I had to stay up late on Friday night (while everyone else was at the dance party in the lodge) and roll out a hundred-some cinnamon rolls. The next morning, I would get to the kitchen at 6:30 in the morning to proof and bake the rolls, and since that's pretty much a one-person job, I told my fellow cooks to sleep in. It sounds kind of grim and lonely and cold, and it was, but I also kind of loved those mornings when I could ease into the day doing what I loved most, all by myself. As I proofed and baked, I listened to the Avett Brothers and thought about all the mornings I had dragged my mother out of bed so I could get to chorale rehearsals. It made me feel close to her, which turned those solitary mornings into something to look forward to.

This morning I listened to The Roches album A Dove. It's surprisingly hard to find, but the songs are the stuff of my young childhood and that album reminds me of riding in our old red minivan, singing along to tapes. Man that memory dates. It's a really great album, and the Roches truly rock, but it didn't make me feel any less sad. I twitched and moped the day away until after dinner, when I settled in with Songza and my Bio notes to do a little studying. Songza is awesome (and Alice totally invented it) because it lets you choose your music based on what you're doing while you listen. I chose to study to jazz from the 50's and 60's, which is so evocative of my dad that I felt like he was in the room with me, telling me get a grip and identify the sax player. It's pretty awesome that music can have such strong associations, and I have to admit that I feel a lot better.

Extension of the heart

One of the many, many reasons I love my Contemporary class is that we get to dance to live music. Dancing to an accompanist versus a CD makes a huge difference, for starters because all the accompanists I've known are very kind. When I was twelve years old, I went to a really fancy ballet summer school for two weeks. I had dreamed of attending for years and when I got there, I was absolutely petrified. At the first class I was scared stiff--literally, rigid with anxiety. Because my last name starts with "A" I was at the end of the barre, facing the accompanist. He was a white-haired Russian man (I learned his lineage later) with an enormous face. We did the first combination on one side, and after he struck the final chord, this man took in my wide-eyed, terrified face, and gave me a thumbs-up from under the piano. I felt reassurance wash over me like a wave, my tense muscles relaxed, and I turned to the other side, ready to dance. That man is my hero. I would never have gotten to where I am today without that tiny gesture of support.

Accompanists are also truly great artists, and our accompanist (whose name is Tony) is no exception. He plays up to four or five instruments at any given time: a drum between his knees, shakers on his ankles, a keyboard, this weird wind instrument that attaches to the keyboard, and he also has pre-recorded sounds that he blends with his instruments. A series of bird calls is in heavy rotation, which really confused me the first week of class. Tony plays the sunrise. He played the fog that rolled in this morning and dusk with mosquitoes coming out and at times, it feels like he plays pure emotion. His drums are a pulse, and the piano is breath. I can't put into words how beautiful this man's music is, nor how grateful I am that I get to dance to it twice a week. It's not easy playing for dancers. Teachers can be very exacting about tempo and style, and of course you aren't the center of attention no matter how well you play.

At the end of each class, we applaud Candice (you always applaud the teacher. If you've never taken a dance class, take note! Your teacher, no matter what technique you are studying, is giving you a gift of time, knowledge and experience. It's very rude to just walk away at the end of class without acknowledging that gift. Applaud and thank them personally for good measure.), and then applaud for Tony. Our applause for Tony consists of the class crouching down and pounding the floor with our palms. I don't know the background of this gesture, but I understand it and appreciate it.