Amateur Hour

A couple of weeks ago I was asked to sing a solo of my choosing in a church meeting. I said yes against my better judgement. Then, last week, I was asked to participate in a quartet in another church meeting on the same day. We would have two practices. I never say no. Why don't I ever say no?

Well, yesterday was the big day and both performances were disasters, at least as far as I am concerned. The quartet was less so, but disaster none the less. I performed well, but one of the women started sputtering and coughing during her duet with the other woman. The other man and I held our own and were ok. We performed "America the Beautiful."

Yesterday evening was far worse. I never perform solos very well during the first verse of whatever song I'm singing. This was no exception, though I was hoping for a first time. My nervousness has been building up for a few days and the good performances I was cranking out during practices were getting me down because I'm superstitious: If I do well during rehearsal, I'm bound to crash and burn during the actual gig. I couldn't breathe during the first verse because of my raised blood pressure and the accompanying hyperventallation. This is all par, including getting back on track during the chorus and the next verse. But this time it didn't feel right. I wasn't sustaining very well, and had the vibrato of a blue-haired, could-have-been-an-opera-singer old lady. I don't remember much as I must have blacked out until the end. Keep in mind that the room was filled only with men, with the exception of my wife who was trying to keep up with my sporadic timing. After I finished bleating, and walked down to my seat, I was greeted with embarrassed and pitying glances. No one said a word about my performance. I kept quiet after the meeting and finally got one feeble commendation. I don't think I'll ever do that again. I used to enjoy singing but embarassing myself is not my thing.