Cherished musical experiences: Post 9

Here's another unusual memory sparked by my association with Lloyd Bradshaw.

I believe this took place in my third year at the Faculty of Music (so, late spring of 1972). Lloyd had set a weird test for the choral music class (was it part of a final exam, I can't remember). For it, we had to present a list of 100 memorized songs. Or it could have been 50. Well, to me, it was like 49 TOO many. ::sighs dramatically::

I didn't grow up in a singing household. We listened to classical music in the evening on the radio and, when I was older, I played the piano and violin at home. Uh ... definitely no lyrics there.

But Lloyd wanted to test us and I put down a whole slew of songs that I had no hope in hell of singing from memory on my list. The thing was that we were allowed to sing the first song of our own choosing and that Lloyd would pick the second song. See me trembling with fear. I remember that one of the songs somewhere on the list was in Polish (from Polish school) about a little bird (and I kept trying to remember the first two lines of it while on my way home from church today ... after 48-odd years ... and I just did: “Ej, przyleciaŀ ptaszek, malinowy lasek”).

But back to the test. I sang “I don't know how to love him” from Jesus Christ Superstar. Then I gave Lloyd my list. I'm not sure whether I stacked the list or not (and can't remember what position it was in) but Lloyd asked me to sing something called “Brat Ivan”. Well, “Brat” isn't pronounced the way you think it is: it's Russian for brother and the song is really “Frère Jacques” in Russian. And you know how short that is. So, after I finished that one, I told Lloyd that I didn't want to short-change him, and launched into a low key rendition of another very simple but moving Russian song in the key of A Minor (of which I remember the first three words). Well ... Lloyd's eyes lit up and, after I finished singing, he got to reminiscing about some very famous female singer (I'm wracking my brain but just can't remember her name) who had a very low, deep voice and how much he appreciated me singing that small song.

So, I lucked out, getting to sing the songs that I knew. I still didn't appreciate the type of test, as it was based on the false premise that all children grow up singing all sorts of songs from nursery rhymes up. Well, I was certainly NOT that child. But, then again, that was nearly 40 years ago and perhaps it shouldn't bother me any longer. ::pauses for a moment:: Nah. I like to keep my memories preserved (in their original packaging, no less)!

You may have noticed (when I write about my failing eyesight) that I still have trouble memorizing words, while melodies I pick up in a flash. It's just the way my brain is wired. ::shakes head to hear brain rattle about::

And that's another musical memory involving Lloyd.

Cherished musical experiences: Post 9

Here's another unusual memory sparked by my association with Lloyd Bradshaw.

I believe this took place in my third year at the Faculty of Music (so, late spring of 1972). Lloyd had set a weird test for the choral music class (was it part of a final exam, I can't remember). For it, we had to present a list of 100 memorized songs. Or it could have been 50. Well, to me, it was like 49 TOO many. ::sighs dramatically::

I didn't grow up in a singing household. We listened to classical music in the evening on the radio and, when I was older, I played the piano and violin at home. Uh ... definitely no lyrics there.

But Lloyd wanted to test us and I put down a whole slew of songs that I had no hope in hell of singing from memory on my list. The thing was that we were allowed to sing the first song of our own choosing and that Lloyd would pick the second song. See me trembling with fear. I remember that one of the songs somewhere on the list was in Polish (from Polish school) about a little bird (and I kept trying to remember the first two lines of it while on my way home from church today ... after 48-odd years ... and I just did: “Ej, przyleciaŀ ptaszek, malinowy lasek”).

But back to the test. I sang “I don't know how to love him” from Jesus Christ Superstar. Then I gave Lloyd my list. I'm not sure whether I stacked the list or not (and can't remember what position it was in) but Lloyd asked me to sing something called “Brat Ivan”. Well, “Brat” isn't pronounced the way you think it is: it's Russian for brother and the song is really “Frère Jacques” in Russian. And you know how short that is. So, after I finished that one, I told Lloyd that I didn't want to short-change him, and launched into a low key rendition of another very simple but moving Russian song in the key of A Minor (of which I remember the first three words). Well ... Lloyd's eyes lit up and, after I finished singing, he got to reminiscing about some very famous female singer (I'm wracking my brain but just can't remember her name) who had a very low, deep voice and how much he appreciated me singing that small song.

So, I lucked out, getting to sing the songs that I knew. I still didn't appreciate the type of test, as it was based on the false premise that all children grow up singing all sorts of songs from nursery rhymes up. Well, I was certainly NOT that child. But, then again, that was nearly 40 years ago and perhaps it shouldn't bother me any longer. ::pauses for a moment:: Nah. I like to keep my memories preserved (in their original packaging, no less)!

You may have noticed (when I write about my failing eyesight) that I still have trouble memorizing words, while melodies I pick up in a flash. It's just the way my brain is wired. ::shakes head to hear brain rattle about::

And that's another musical memory involving Lloyd.

A serene sky after a wild thunderstorm.

Oops! I think I spoke too quickly. There was just a flash of lightning in the sky, but at least it's further out than before. I'm sitting here, completely in the dark ... just for a change. Mind you, I had to fumble around trying to find my ... banana and drink.

So, to sleep at 1 and up at 5:45 before the alarm. That's fine. It gives me more time for all the girly stuff. Based on the forecast of warm weather and thunderstorms (what a combo), I still decided to wear my winter coat, scarf, gloves along with socks, mary janes, leggings and my swirly sarong scarf.

So ... an interesting encounter when I was busy being God's Little Dishwasher. RS approached me to see how I was. I was emitting unisyllabic answers (well, I was focused on my job) and then I finally just told her that I was disappointed in her behaviour, and that I'd felt abandoned (and we all know how much I like that - NOT). I mentioned the fact that she hadn't replied to my e-mail. She said she thought she had. In any case, she said she was sorry (but, then again, that's just words). In any case, I'm glad I said something. In the past, I've let stuff that bothers me fester and grow until I can't hold it in. And I certainly do NOT have a poker face where my emotions are concerned.

So, on to church itself. Brent was supposed to be preaching but he has a code, so he stayed home and Rev. Deana came up with a mountain-top sermon. It was good and made it easy for me to invent a complementary communion prayer. I'm glad I was on duty (and had BD with his wrist cast as my first customer). Afterwards, I was in a bit of a hurry as my ride was scheduled for 12:35. But I was out there and my driver showed up early. Yay! I asked him to let me off across the street from my place so I could visit the banking machine. Then I walked back to the supermarket and splurged on several lovely foodies, some of which are intended to be birthday treats: multi-grain bread, 3-pack of romaine hearts, beautifully clean sliced mushrooms, liverwurst, 8 chicken legs with Italian Parmesan Shake'n'Bake, spinach dip (rather than asiago'n'artichoke), multigrain potato chips ('cuz they's SO much healthier, /sarcasm), gummi bears, banana pudding and prune nectar. And rainbow ice cream, 'cuz I'm such a sparkly snowflake ... or something. Surprisingly, everything fit into one bag and I managed to get myself home in one piece.

Lunch was 'tater chips and spinach dip and juice. Dinner was a 'nana and 'nana pudding and 3 pain killers. I'd hoped to have had a nap, but left it until too late. So I'll just go to bed early. Probably after a couple more junior painkillers. And, then, tomorrow I get to tackle major chores. Oh, joy. NOT!

So, I think I'm going to slide into bed now. The storm seems to have moved off entirely and the geese are honking away. Situation normal. And nighty-night, all.

A serene sky after a wild thunderstorm.

Oops! I think I spoke too quickly. There was just a flash of lightning in the sky, but at least it's further out than before. I'm sitting here, completely in the dark ... just for a change. Mind you, I had to fumble around trying to find my ... banana and drink.

So, to sleep at 1 and up at 5:45 before the alarm. That's fine. It gives me more time for all the girly stuff. Based on the forecast of warm weather and thunderstorms (what a combo), I still decided to wear my winter coat, scarf, gloves along with socks, mary janes, leggings and my swirly sarong scarf.

So ... an interesting encounter when I was busy being God's Little Dishwasher. RS approached me to see how I was. I was emitting unisyllabic answers (well, I was focused on my job) and then I finally just told her that I was disappointed in her behaviour, and that I'd felt abandoned (and we all know how much I like that - NOT). I mentioned the fact that she hadn't replied to my e-mail. She said she thought she had. In any case, she said she was sorry (but, then again, that's just words). In any case, I'm glad I said something. In the past, I've let stuff that bothers me fester and grow until I can't hold it in. And I certainly do NOT have a poker face where my emotions are concerned.

So, on to church itself. Brent was supposed to be preaching but he has a code, so he stayed home and Rev. Deana came up with a mountain-top sermon. It was good and made it easy for me to invent a complementary communion prayer. I'm glad I was on duty (and had BD with his wrist cast as my first customer). Afterwards, I was in a bit of a hurry as my ride was scheduled for 12:35. But I was out there and my driver showed up early. Yay! I asked him to let me off across the street from my place so I could visit the banking machine. Then I walked back to the supermarket and splurged on several lovely foodies, some of which are intended to be birthday treats: multi-grain bread, 3-pack of romaine hearts, beautifully clean sliced mushrooms, liverwurst, 8 chicken legs with Italian Parmesan Shake'n'Bake, spinach dip (rather than asiago'n'artichoke), multigrain potato chips ('cuz they's SO much healthier, /sarcasm), gummi bears, banana pudding and prune nectar. And rainbow ice cream, 'cuz I'm such a sparkly snowflake ... or something. Surprisingly, everything fit into one bag and I managed to get myself home in one piece.

Lunch was 'tater chips and spinach dip and juice. Dinner was a 'nana and 'nana pudding and 3 pain killers. I'd hoped to have had a nap, but left it until too late. So I'll just go to bed early. Probably after a couple more junior painkillers. And, then, tomorrow I get to tackle major chores. Oh, joy. NOT!

So, I think I'm going to slide into bed now. The storm seems to have moved off entirely and the geese are honking away. Situation normal. And nighty-night, all.