Carol Hall-An Appreciation

My first conversation with Carol Hall was not about the music. Not about the shows she had written or whether it was easier to write songs for Big Bird or the Floozies from the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. It was about our children.

Many years ago I was accepted into a program at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre Center in Waterford, CT. I was far away from home and knew no one. My first night there I went to the small barn like building that was a classroom during the day and a gathering place in the evenings. My introvert self decided to take a tiny table in the corner so that I could observe without being noticed. Within minutes of sitting down Carol pulled up a chair at my table and was soon joined by Sally Mayes and Julie Wilson. I don’t know why they chose that spot, and I can’t recall who started the conversation, or what sparked it, but soon we were talking about our children and sharing the stories that mothers do when they gather. I didn’t know it then, but these women had just become a permanent part of my life. They became my teachers, my mentors, my friends and my exemplars.

Two of them, Carol and Julie, have left us. Julie a few years ago and Carol only a few months ago. One day I will write about Julie, but today I want to write about Miss Carol.

I will always be just slightly in awe of Miss Carol. She was unfailingly polite, but did not suffer fools, whip smart and funny. She told wonderful stories. I have vivid memories of her recounting the journey of her Dachshund Jake’s trip from the Dachshund rescue society to his new home in New York City. Complete with references to the French Connection and a secret underground Dachshund railroad.

But I think maybe it was her voice that I loved the most. It was like molasses - dark and deep and ever so slow. I’d pick up the phone to hear her say, “It’s Carol” every syllable elongated and deliberate with just a tiny touch of Texas around the edges. When Carol spoke you always had the feeling she weighed her words with great care.

Words were important to her. Which you would know if you ever saw her take a singer to task over changing the tiniest word in a song. She labored to get her lyrics just right, and even the change of a “the” to an “a” or an “and” to a “but” could dramatically alter a song’s intent. She was a fierce warrior on behalf of writers everywhere. 

She was an example to me of so many things- Grace under pressure. She did not love performing, in fact, she was often terrified before going on, but she went on stage and did it every time with her signature wit and charm. It surprised me to learn she’d gone on as Doatsy Mae in the original production of Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. But it shouldn’t have. It takes guts to put your vulnerable self in front of an audience and Miss Carol had guts. She showed me you could speak your mind, hold your ground and still have good manners. Carol had beautiful manners. Most importantly, she understood the power of the words Thank You. On my desk is a red lacquer pen from Tiffany, and in my closet a blue lace jacket from Anthropology. Both were gifts from her that came with lovely notes of gratitude for some small thing I had done. I will keep them forever.

She wrote a song called Tattooed Boy in Memphis which I think is my favorite of all her songs. The chorus says -

The truth is that we never really know the ways we reach each other

                   Though we think we see it there’s a world we never find.

                   The truth is that we never can be sure of how we teach each other

                    Life is full of changes

                    And the touch of passing strangers

                     And it’s all just like a ribbon we unwind .

I doubt that Carol ever knew the ways she influenced me. I was lucky to know her, and learn from her. I will miss that slow syrupy voice telling me a story about taking her son to see  the original production of “Sweeney Todd” or gently yet firmly explaining to a singer why they mustn’t change a word in a composer’s song. But I have her words and her music and for that I am profoundly grateful.

Dance Diary: And Now for Something Completely...

...different...odd...soul shakingly frightening...all of the above?

Somehow, I thought three years of ballroom dance had prepared me to go out and conquer myriad other forms of dance with great ease. Not so much really, as I discovered when ventured into Hip-Hop, Bollywood and Heels classes. It’s kind of like being an opera singer your entire life and then deciding you want to front a Death Metal band.

Who knew that my refusal to learn the Running Man in the nineties would be a glaring hole in my dance education in the year 2018? I spent the 90’s (and the decades before and after that) doing musical theatre, and singing pop songs. All the dance training I have had in my life has centered on pointed toes, pretty hands and elegant movement. Hip-Hop physicality is another universe from what I know.

As for Bollywood, it’s not as easy as the movies make it look. What you don’t realize watching them is how fast it is. Some of the movements are very close to Hip-Hop while others are more in line with forms I’m more familiar with. I think this may be my favorite of the new things I’ve tried lately. Not because I’m good at it, oh no, it will take eons and hours of practice before I’m remotely competent. It’s the narrative element that appeals to the storyteller in me.

Heels class has been an interesting experience in its own way. I’m used to dancing in heels so you wouldn’t think this would be a huge change. Yet most heels classes concentrate on more pop forms of dance so I’m playing catch up quite a bit. The last few weeks we’ve been working on a more lyrical (slower, more elegant, cleaner more fluid lines) and I’ve been loving it.

While my ballroom experience hasn’t helped as much stylistically or choreographically in these classes it has helped me in a lot of other ways. The biggest one being that it’s given me the guts to go into a class as a rank beginner and not run out screaming. I definitely have more patience with myself and have adjusted my expectations. Right now, If I am coming away from the class having digested 30-40 percent of the steps I’m happy with that.

I’ve also learned not to be afraid to ask the instructor to put a combination on video for me. Most of the classes I’ve been in work on the same combination for four weeks, adding a little bit each week. If I get a video of the combination that gives me a clear practice blueprint. I may not come back into class having learned it perfectly but there will be a level of comfort with the choreography that helps to pick up just a little more each time.

Most of all what the last few years have brought is dogged persistence. That’s not to say I don’t get frustrated and even a little depressed sometimes. The key is to remind myself that these feelings are not reality. Most of the time it’s my ego telling me I shouldn’t do things that make me look goofy in public. But as a friend said to me today “If we just did things that we are good at then we would never grow.”

So I’m growing.

Who Am I, Anyway?

Photo by Denise Medve Penguinmoon Studios  

I had a moment of absolute clarity during a rehearsal for Women’s Work last week. I was singing away and I heard the words in my head as clearly as if someone were standing next to me whispering in my ear, “THIS is who you are”. I am good at many things but nowhere am I as much myself, my absolute truest and best self, as when I’m standing in front of a microphone singing and telling my stories.  

I have neglected that particular self during the past few years. I had to. There were things I needed to learn to become better at doing what I do. I spent three years working on my writing, learning to dance, and returning to stage acting. I use these skills in ways I never imagined when I get up to perform, but still I had to leave this other self aside for a while to concentrate on mastering them. It temporarily disconnected me not only from myself but from those amazing people who are part of my tribe. At the same time it brought new tribe members into my world.

I am reconnecting with that girl in front of the microphone, and those mentors who first put me on this path. I have new things to bring to the table, and old things that have only improved with age. It means change, of course, something I actively fear every waking moment. But it also means returning to the thing that I love more than anything else. 

I am not going to abandon all those wonderful new things I’ve learned. If I don’t continue to work at them those skills will certainly atrophy. I will, however, work harder at putting this wonderful gift that is my very heart at the center of them all. The best compliment I got after the show was from a friend who hugged me tightly and said, “You’re a storyteller!” I am and I intend to use every tool available within me to tell my stories. New possibilities are appearing and I can’t wait to see where they take me!

Back to School

Graphic by Denise Medve Penguinmoon Studio

I am a fall girl. I’m not so much on the whole profusion of pumpkin products, but beyond that there’s something about fall that perks me right up (well, perk is a relative term for one who is so far down on the perkiness scale but...). It could be a throwback to the days of fresh notebooks and new pens and pencils that always came with a new school year. I still have an obsession with notebooks. I have a whole basket full of pretty blank books waiting to be defiled with my illegible scrawl. But I digress (as usual)...

This fall I actually get to participate in the whole back to school hoopla as I’m teaching a brand new workshop for Pioneer’s Stagecraft education program. Solo is a class built especially to inspire, encourage and educate performers about creating their own shows. One of my favorite Lin-Manuel Miranda quotes is, Don’t wait on anyone to make your favorite thing- make your own favorite thing. If there is one thing that can make me wax evangelical it is the art of solo performance. The freedom is immense and the creative rewards are incredible. In mastering the art of solo performance you learn how to bring your own unique strengths as a performer to the stage while discovering all new skills. Every performer should have this tool in their kit!

This class is meant as a one day intensive, “get your feet wet” kind of thing. I’m covering a lot of ground including song performance, choosing material, working with a musical director, arrangements, structuring your show, visual image, and booking and promoting your show. We’ll wind up the day with an informal performance for an invited audience of friends and family (your friends and family that you get to invite, that is).  

I am lucky to have as my willing accomplice for the day Bruce De La Cruz as musical director. Bruce works all over the place as a musical director, accompanist and an arranger. He’s also a Staff musical director at Paper Mill Playhouse. 

If youre a performer I hope you’ll consider joining us. You can sign up HERE . If you sign up by the end of the day on September 16th you can get $25 off the price of the workshop by using the code early. If you are the friend of a performer please feel free to pass this info along to them. We are limiting the class size so that there is lots of personal instruction time and attention. If you’ve got questions feel free to drop me a line.

What’s In A Song

Photo by Cindy Banescu 

I am a song geek. I love songs, I love discovering them, singing them, tearing them apart and devouring the subtext and meaning. I get all goofy when I talk about songs I love. My hands flail and my voice reaches a speed and pitch that can best be described as Minnie Mouse on helium.

What excites me about a song? Some of it is certainly chemistry, that beyond explanation something that reaches out and pulls me in, that little voice that tells me “this is your song”.  But the other part of the equation is logical. If I were to dismantle and analyse all the songs I adore I would find elements they all have in common.

 Good Bones - Michele Brourman talks a lot about Seduction by Production, which is a song that so captures your attention with its instrumentation and enthusiasm that it takes a listen or two to figure out there’s really no there there. A great song will stand on its own without the embelishments. It holds up whether it’s sung accapella or with a full orchestra. An ornate frame won’t make a mediocre painting better it merely distracts you for a while. 

Heart - It’s not enough to make me think if it doesn’t also make me feel. 

Balance - I’m looking for the perfect marriage of lyric and melody.

Transporting - I want a song to be transporting. I want to be taken to a place outside myself, somewhere that gives me a new perspective and elevates me. If I can see the world from a different vantage point that’s when I know I’m on to something.

Illuminating - It is a gift  to unearth a tune that shows me something new about myself. 

Transforming - A song can open a window of understanding into something that is entirely outside my experience. A song that can change your view of the world (or any tiny corner of it) is a song that has power.

Tells a great story (arc) - Some songs tell linear stories, some don’t. It doesn’t matter how the story is told only that there is one, that you come to the end of it in a different place from where you started. It has to be a great ride. 

Attention to craft - I have seen Miss Carol Hall take a singer to task over a tiny lyric mistake like changing an and, an or, or a but. Not because she was being difficult but because every word matters. She labors over finding just the right words to express her point. This is craft and must be respected.  

Makes me want to sing - I have experienced no greater joy in life than wrapping my vocal cords, brain and heart around a wonderful song. There ain’t nothing like it in the world!

Whew! Trying to distill all this into a few bullet points was a challenge. If I let myself I could keep going on this for days, but I would love to know what you think. What makes you fall in love with a song?

Essentially Me

I went to Facebook last week and posed what I thought was a simple question - who are your top three essential female songwriters? Turns out it wasn’t quite so simple. At last count I had over one hundred comments and even now several days later people continue are still opining. There were names going back to the very beginning of musical time, names from musical theatre, jazz, pop, country, rock and even punk. It also sparked a vigorous debate or two. Most of the names were familiar to me, but one or two sent me scuttling off to learn more. It was exhilarating!

One name seemed to be the common denominator on the list- Joni Mitchell. She was mentioned far more than any other writer. There’s no mystery there. Her voice as a writer is distinct- no one sounds like her- in her use of language, her vocabulary she is sui generis. Her emotional reach is astounding, every word transmits itself straight from her soul to the listener’s heart. 

 A few years ago my friend Laurel, suggested Ms Mitchell’s Night Ride Home to me. It is the type of song I’m not known for doing, an unabashashedly joyful moment in romantic time. I loved it. Michele Brourman and I put it with Anne Caldwell and Jerome Kern’s Once in a Blue Moon. Going in to the studio to record it with Michele and Stephan Oberhoff was one of the most wonderful experiences I’ve ever had. It is a piece I will happily sing every chance I get.

So In Love

A little Friday romance for you. This is the video from the choreographer’s showcase I did last weekend. The singer, of course, is me, and the dancers are Janette Dishuk & Chris Zang. The choreography is by Olivia Galgano.

Dance Diary Sturm Und Samba

The first time I took a West Coast Swing class I went home and cried. The next day I went into the studio and my instructor said, “we’re going to do a West Coast Swing solo...” I worked really hard and did it, now it’s my favorite dance. This will not happen with Samba. If a praying mantis and a bunny had a baby that danced that’s my samba. It’s never made me cry, but more than a few Brazillilans have when they see me do it. Yesterday an instructor said to me, “I see something in your samba I have never seen before,” he did not explain what this meant. I love the music, I love watching other people dance it, I love the costumes, it is just not my dance. By now I have done enough samba to know my loathing will never turn to love. And yet...

I still do it. Yes, it’s part of my program I’m forced to do it no matter my feelings on the matter. But also, not liking something is no reason not to do it. Well, it is but in this case there are reasons to do it anyway. Samba has a very distinct rhythm and timing, and anything that gives a musician a different way of using those things is a very good thing. Samba is also one of the more energetic dances so I’m burning lots of calories thus justifying the occasional baked goods binge. 

Mostly though, I’m stubborn. I don’t like to be bad at anything, even something I hate. This might be my best/worst thing. Best because I think that getting through life requires tenacity and a refusal to accept circumstances which are not to my liking. Worst because it causes me to hold on to some things longer than I should. 

I’ll be holding on to samba a little longer. I suspect it still has some things to teach me. 

Music for a Snowy Day

So, remember last week when I said that Spawn has introduced me to a whole world of new music? Well, today one of these tunes has been stuck in my head, and I figured that was a pretty clear sign that I needed to share it with you. I am absolutely in love with Frank Turner’s ballad (of course, it would be a ballad) Balthazar Impressario. It’s a gorgeous story song about the last night of an English music hall.

There are two things I adore about it (well, more but I’m trying to keep this short and sassy).

One: The line “Always take the stage like it’s the last night of your life” .  Of all the ear worms from this song this is the one that I hear over and over again. It is performing advice to live by.

Two: It reminds me of my friend George Hall. George is an expert on English Music Hall, and one of the most delightful people I have ever spent time with. He knows Just about everything there is to know about theatre having worked with pretty near every luminary to trod the English boards. He’s in his nineties now and still teaching young performers in the UK. He once said to me he could not imagine retiring. I miss his twinkling eyes and exceedingly dry sense of humor. It may be time for me to plan a trip to London...

So without further ado...here’s your tune for the day. You’re welcome. 

Singing for a Cause...

In rehearsal for One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest with Salvador Navarro & Dan Vissers . Photo by Penguin Moon Studios

The art of making art is a difficult one. It requires talent, vision, willing collaborators and funding. You can have the first three elements but without the last one, the almighty dollar, you won’t get very far. At times like this we all can use a little help from our friends.

Last year Pioneer Productions Company gave me the opportunnity to play Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I had a blast exploring the contours of this iconic character and made some talented new friends in the process. Now it’s time for me to give back a little of what they gave to me. On January 20th I will be reuniting with some of my pals from Cuckoo’s nest along with some other terrific performers for an evening benefiting Pioneer. 

Your ticket will get you an evening of great singing, yummy food, and the knowledge that you’re helping to bring new art to life. Click HERE to get your tix for the event. I’ll see you there!

 (If you’d like a sneak peak of what you’ll see on the 20th check out the promo below...)

On the First Day of Blogging...

Words! Words! Words! My brain is full of them. they spin around my head while I’m trying to sleep and crash into my conscious when I’m trying to grocery shop. The more I put off committing them to print the more they plague me. The time has come to set them free in the hope that I can finally stop frightening people in the checkout line at Wegman’s with my muttering.

Welcome to the Twelve Days of Blogging. Similar to the Twelve Days of Christmas but not- there will be no birds or pear trees, but maybe some leaping and dancing. For the next twelve days (that would be twelve weekdays, folks, even a procrastinator gets the occasional weekend off) I am going publish a post daily. I’ll be talking about music and dance and theatre and books and any other thing that  floats through the transom of my mind.

I also want to hear from you. Chime in with your thoughts and even links to your blog. Let’s get some conversation going. I’ll start it off right now by telling you my next post will be all about Balance. Finding it, losing it, and what it all means.

A Little Song, A Little Dance

Sometimes I have an idea that I know in my heart is going to absolutely brilliant or fail utterly. Too often I let my fear get the better of me and bury those ideas under the more mundane things I have to do until they reappear to torment me late at night when sleep won’t come. A few months ago I had such an idea. I tried to ignore it but it pestered me endlessly. I decided to take it to my most trusted artistic advisors. Surely, they would tell me that I was out of my mind and I could move on to the next saner project. No quite... They all LOVED it and insisted this was absolutely the right next move for me. 

The idea was this - Take about a dozen or so of my very favorite songs and stories and combine it with some of the things I’ve been doing with dance. Have I mentioned that I am not a natural dancer? I’ve worked hard on it, I have seriously invested in doing it, but could I do it well enough to combine it seamlessly with what I already do? Most importantly, would it be “Me”? As it turns out the answer was absolutely yes. In fact, in some ways, it is the most Me I have ever felt on-stage.

I started with three tunes I had long fantasized about adding dance to. The first was Leonard Cohen’s Dance Me to the End of Love. Several years ago Rick Jensen (who was musical director for this show) put together a stunning Russian Play of an arrangement of this for me, and It became the title of the show and the starting point for choosing all the other songs.  Next came Gretchen Peters’ The Matador , a gorgeous metaphor for life with an artist. I always have at least one Gretchen Peters song in every set. She’s a consummate musical story teller. With The Matador I had a vision of telling this story with a mix of Paso Doble and Argentine Tango. Finally, there was Stephen Sondheim’s Can That Boy Foxtrot. It was a bit of a joke because my distaste for the Foxtrot is a well known fact in the dance studio. But also, it’s just a great song, sexy sassy and funny and who doesn’t want to be that?

With more than a little trepidation I presented the idea to Costi, my Romanian Ballroom Champion dance teacher. Surely, here was the person who was going to agree with me that I was absolutely insane to try this. Instead he took my rehearsal tracks with only the slightest raised eyebrow and came back with three gorgeously choreographed pieces that managed to combine the elements of my personality and the things I do best as a dancer. When he first showed me what he had come up with for Dance Me to the End of Love I actually jumped up and down and clapped my hands it was so exciting. And if you know me at all you know I am not a jumper up and downer.

The other songs in the set came together surprisingly easily. I just picked the things I loved to sing the very most. Songs by friends like Michele  Brourman, Amanda McBroom, Rick and Lina Koutrakos shared a set with tunes by more distant icons like June Carter Cash, Cole Porter, Joni Mitchell, and  Leonard Cohen. There wasn’t a song in the bunch that I hadn’t fallen in love with. Every time I sang I felt like I was rediscovering old friends. I’m always amazed how over time a song will continue to grow and change and take on deeper meaning. 

In the week leading up to the show I alternated between excited anticipation and dread that I was going to make an ass of myself. I expected that I would spend the entire set tense because the idea of dancing in a show was so scary to me. The great surprise was once I actually walked out onto the stage I never felt more relaxed during a performance. Things flowed even better than they had in my mind, and the dance numbers seemed like they had always been there, even when I missed a step or two (hey, it woudn’t be me if I hadn’t).

It helped that I was blessed with  brilliant collaborators in Rick, Costi, and my creative sounding board Sally Mayes. I was also fortunate in having a warm and enthusiastic audience whom I could feel with me every step of the way. I had done my homework now I got to forget about it and have fun. And I did! I also realized that studying dance has affected  more than those moments when I am actually dancing. It’s changed everything from the way I stand at the microphone to the way I walk across the stage. It’s helped me become at home in a body that I’ve often viewed as an enemy. 

My one thought when all was said and done was “when can I do this again”? And I will. Keep watching this space!

Sooner Rather Than Later, Please

This week has been a wretched week on both a personal level and the larger global level. Bad news seems  to be coming thick and fast from all corners. There is so much that seems beyond our control right now, with demons prowling everywhere. What can we do? Well, there's kindness and compassion both for others and for ourselves.  You'd be surprised how little of that it takes to lighten a mood. And beyond that there's music. Good music- the kind that makes you laugh and cry and forget just for a minute that the odds are long and so is the day. Yesterday just when I was at the absolute end of my tether I stumbled across Karen Ziemba & Bill Irwin's version of Stephen Sondheim's Sooner or Later. It didn't solve my problems or spout platitudes, it didn't even do my dishes. But it made me smile, and at that moment everything seemed much better. So,I'm sharing it with you, I hope it makes your day just a bit happier.