"How Can I Keep From Singing" - Virtual Choir and Orchestra

It’s currently about the eighth week of New York's (and much of America’s) major shut down due to the Covid 19 virus. It will certainly be no surprise to anyone reading, that as I write this, all public gatherings, bars, concerts, churches, etc are closed or cancelled until further notice. I struggle to even wrap my head around the disruption and devastation this has had on countless industries and individuals, and the communities I’m most connected to are certainly no exception. The responses to this pandemic have been as diverse as the individuals impacted and it’s been inspiring to see the bursts of creativity emerging to feed a growing hunger for human connection. After a couple weeks of being home, my brother Adam and I decided to launch our own contribution to this rapidly developing world of virtual connection to serve as an outlet for the musicians in our community who long for it. In planning our project, we quickly agreed on the old hymn tune “How Can I Keep From Singing”. The text seemed as fitting for the moment as anything I could imagine, with a message about finding strength and grounding “through the storm”. The scope continued to grow as more and more musicians responded with such enthusiasm for the project, and the new arrangement we were making had to expand to fit the forces we were accumulating. We ended up with over 100 singers in the choir and 35 musicians in the. orchestra, all longing to make something together, even if the process was in isolation.

It had been weeks since I played music with a group, and I just wanted to make something “good” that any of the project’s participants could distract themselves with for a couple weeks - and ideally maybe even lose themselves in it. The whole process ended up feeling bigger, and deeper than I envisioned, and it turns out that the best “view” of this project was as an editor, not an audience member. In the process of piecing this together I got to see and hear every isolated singer and musician in order to synchronize and balance each member with the ensemble. It was so striking how different all of their voices are. You don’t really get that experience on full display in a regular rehearsal or performance because everyone sings with the comfort and confidence of their section surrounding them in that warm “together sound”. Hearing and seeing everyone in isolation, there was such vulnerability, fragility, and individuality. Some voices at a whisper, while others pose confidently. Some bodies swaying nervously, and some frozen still. Some faces full of joy and grateful for this brief release, while some hold the pain of the moment everyone is struggling to handle. Some voices quiver with a nervous flutter, and others laser focused, without a trace of vibrato. Some singing flat, some singing sharp, and some singing “just right”. I desperately wish everyone could have experienced that process of adding each individual voice to the growing choir, and hearing the vulnerability transform into something with such strength, far greater than the sum of its parts. Maybe this is all a bit obvious to anyone familiar with the powerful feeling of group singing, or group anything for that matter. But that striking moment of each individual’s soft landing into a growing choir; a choir waiting to catch them, wrap them up, and sing even more beautifully with them - that will certainly be how I remember this project, and where it’s power lies for me.