Musical memories

Lately, I’ve been reminiscing about singing. The origins of my love for it (my parents), my earliest memories of singing (at daycare), the music that moved me to sing (an even split between Phantom of the Opera and Judy Garland.) Now, with almost 13 years of my life defined by singing as an academic and professional pursuit, it seems like a lifetime since I remember singing as something that didn’t define who I was or what I did.

I have been really into Brittany Howard’s recording of “You’ll never walk alone.” It’s an amazing cover - her raw voice, the classic rock swell she adds to the song, I’d say it’s about as successful a cover could be. It manages to be true to the original while seemingly a new song at the same time. Quite honestly, I have heard this song countless times before. In college masterclasses, in recitals, as the closing of concerts, as an emblematic song performed at countless national events. I don’t think there is a song out there that captures hope quite like this one. And, every time I’ve heard it, it has moved me to tears. (I’m a Pisces, okay?) Yet somehow, when I hear this song, it’s not Brittany Howard’s rendition I think of. It’s not the beautiful recordings by Renee Fleming, Elvis, Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles or the practically endless list of incredible artists who have contributed their version of this song either.

At my very first voice recital, half way through 8th grade, I heard “You’ll never walk alone” for the first time. Amongst the line up of other singers, who were mostly under 18 and female, was an older man, probably around 75. It was a Broadway recital and the program was dominated by the “Wicked” songbook + number one hits from other contemporary musicals - I sang “Happiness” from You’re a good man, Charlie Brown. Towards the end of the program, the older man got on stage and sang this song. I could tell he was nervous, lyrics written in a small piece of paper he held. But he delivered it with the most hopeful and genuine smile on his face. I remember being so taken by him. He wasn’t singing because he wanted to get a role in the musical next year or because he needed a more classic song for his repertoire book but because he loved to sing and he had something to say. I was already well on my way to discovering my real love for singing and his performance really stuck with me. How he seemed free of the worries he’d “get it wrong” and instead, was able to share something vulnerable with everyone that day.

I find it unbelievably beautiful that it’s his voice I hear when I think of that song. I don’t remember the man’s name, just his voice and his warm smile. How beautiful that music is not reserved for the incredible few at the top of their game. That making music with a lasting impact on others is possible for anyone at any time. I’m leaning in to this memory - we are all artists and we all have something to say. As I embark on my grant project, to create with seniors currently in isolation, it seems fitting that his performance is guiding and inspiring me.

-Lauren