Seven minutes on stage

Seven minutes on stage

How much time do you take to prepare?

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A crowded auditorium. 

A cacophony of dissonance from overlapping, indistinguishable conversations between audience members.

Lights illuminating the empty stage dim — the universally-understood sign directing the spectators to decrescendo their once-loud roar of excited chatter to a silent buzz of anticipation.

The stage is flooded with bright lights from above and the crowd immediately harmonizes as a chorus of positive cheers and encouragement.

Staccato steps of dress shoes accompany the four singers who step into the blinding spotlight.

Wordlessly, the quartet comes together.

Following a synchronized breath, the foursome sings through two songs, takes a bow, then departs the stage as the lights illuminating the stage once again dim.

The four singers reconvene backstage while a panel of judges composes comments and critiques on the 7-minute performance. 

Seven minutes.

That’s all the time you get as a Sweet Adeline International competing quartet.

The judges grade you and your fellow competitors on how you interpret the song, how you deliver the story, how you connect with the audience, how you look while doing it, and a whole host of subcategories under the umbrella categories of sound, music, expression and showmanship.

In 7 minutes.

There’s a joke in the barbershop community that it’s only a “one-night-a-week commitment.” And for some, it might be. 

That one night a week is reserved for the ensemble to come together and rehearse. And that ensemble might be a quartet or a 170-member chorus.

But there’s only so much you can do in one night a week to prepare for those 7 minutes under the glare of the stage lights and the glaring critiques of the judging panel.

The 7 minutes you get is to showcase all the work you did for those 7 minutes, not any work you’ll do in those 7 minutes.

I have been in 2-hour quartet coaching sessions working on only one song. 

ONE SONG FOR TWO HOURS!

And it’s not like these are Bohemian Rhapsody-length songs.  These are 2-, maybe 3-minute songs.

These short songs are stories that need to be conveyed and musical lines that need to be delivered accurately, delicately and expressively.

I have been in quartet coaching sessions where we spent 11 minutes (yes, I timed it) on one word! (The word was “moon” if you care).

ONE WORD FOR ELEVEN MINUTES!

Why?

Because that word, its linguistic units and the vowel sounds connecting syllables are important. 

And the lack of sounds are important.  The softly creeping story still remains in the sounds of silence.

There is so much work that gets showcased effortlessly in those 7 competition minutes.

Because those 7 minutes are the fun part, the time we get to present our interpretation of the composer’s masterpiece to the judges.

And for me, the 7 minutes is fun. But not as much fun as the 12 months leading up to those 7 minutes. 

Months of listening to audio recordings of the song.

Months of making the song our own as a quartet.

Months of memorizing our notes and interpretations.

Hours as a team bringing our voices together.

Hours as duets narrowing the focus of blends of notes, volume and texture.

Hours on our own reinforcing the lyrical story-singing we’ll relay at competition.  In 7 minutes.

Do you ever think about the other “competitions” we have in life?

Work presentations. 

Salary negotiations. 

Break-ups.

Engagements. 

Job interviews.

Child care decisions.

Parent care choices.

Those actions may be shorter than 7 minutes, but the preparation that goes into those “competitions” should take more time than the actual event.

Time to prepare, listen, rehearse, focus and reinforce.

Because those actions, the steps within those actions and the meanings connected to our actions are important. 

And lack of action also carries meaning.  I’m not saying we need to disturb the sound of silence. But we should be aware of talking without speaking, hearing without listening or writing songs that voices never share.

How are you preparing for your “7 minutes on stage?”

Remember the power of actions, inactions and smelly cars.

Sigh, mon. Car funk’ll silence anyone.