Nostalgia for the Jazz Choir Days

I have a few friends in various choirs around the country, and partially because of their updates on Facebook et al, I've been reminiscing lately on my years in the good ol' University of Idaho Jazz Choir I. I think being at the symphony helped revive that nostalgia for being part of something which brought visible pleasure and delight to a small sea of faces and practicing discipline and learning little life lessons, like the fact that there's tension and intensity in the pauses--the silence makes the sound that much more energetic and impacting, things like that that give a sometimes annoyingly analytical mind like mine fodder for analogy. I loved performing in concerts, lost in the wave of 200 faces but striving to perform with all the accuracy and intensity to carry your section if the rest of them were suddenly and tragically picked off by a sniper, for example. It could happen. And I relished enveloping myself in the rhythmic energy of songs like Song of the River or Jambalaya, the purity of joyous African songs like Fana Naye and Mabalabala, and the soothing dissonance or lulling sweetness of songs like La Golondrina or My God Is Real.

Tonight, I was reminded again of the nostalgia of jazz choir participation and wondering if there's anything comparable here that's audition-free, but I realized even a comparable choir would just be missing something without Dan Bukvich, our beloved, feared, and respected conductor. I'm not sure if there's anyone quite like him. I miss his unique compositions and arrangements, his simultaneously authoritative and personal demeanor, his antics such as kicking boxes when we'd screw up, yelling at us that we were genetically flawed and that we needed to read his mind, etc. I remember trying to stifle a smile one time as he was scolding the choir rather aggressively, with the freshmen quaking and trembling in fear before his commanding presence. I tilted my face downward as I tried to cover my smile with my hand, and just as I did, he looked at me, saw my expression, and for just a very brief flash showed that he, too, was hiding a grin with a twinkle in his eye before going back to his intimidation of the undisciplined choir.



One of the best things while performing was to feel like a part of a living organism, a vividly dynamic and precisely responsive organic wave of sound that swelled and flowed with Dan's hands as he pulled the strings and intensified our energy with his stare. It was exhilarating when the choir was so responsive, so disciplined, so alert that it almost felt like we were a speeding freight train of voice and percussion, a big Thunder Mountain Railroad twisting and turning and seemingly about to speed out of control before being brought firmly back onto the tracks in precise rhythm and controlled dynamics in a flash. The very best moments were when we'd be hitting the rhythm and tune well, and he'd get that glimmer in his eye that forewarned he was about to step it up a notch, and suddenly, his hands would hush the choir at a completely unexpected place or speed us up beyond anything we'd rehearsed, and we'd respond with an almost arresting change in the music which reminded me that music is a living, breathing creation, full of life of its own, fed by the discipline and passion of its performers and composers. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing him close his eyes after such a transition into the previously unknown as if he was simply soaking in the newness, savoring the flavor and letting the energy of the music harmonize with his soul, as it did with ours, to tell him what was next, as we awaited the next signals with sharp alertness.

There were other bonuses, too, like when he reported to us that Claudio Roditi had expressed real enthusiasm for joining us on stage during the Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival again the next year, or some children at the elementary school adjacent to the university had expressed their awe and glee for the jungle songs we sang.

Mind you, this was no professional choir. We were amateurs in every sense, and many of us couldn't always even carry the tune precisely. Even those moments which felt most rewarding to me probably sounded acceptable at best to the polished ear. But the energy, the effort, the connection, the focus, those were what it was about. While my first year or so in the choir seemed to have more of those moments (is that because I got used to them or because I entered the choir at a really good time?), I always looked forward to more of them, and they came, though not easily. Like he always said, it's not like riding a bike: professional performance requires ever-increasing effort to maintain the focus required. I learned from my choir experience in addition to having a great time.

Out of curiosity, I looked up Dan Bukvich on YouTube tonight and found a couple of pieces some schools had performed, one a percussion piece and another a band piece. No choir stuff. So I went to his web site and there found the piece I'd been waiting for since we recorded it years ago: Missa de Montunos. I don't know if this is the recording we did or a newer one, but I just downloaded it and am listening to it now. I loved performing this piece: it was one of my faves. My favorite movements to listen to are the Allelujah, Sanctus, and Gloria movements, and my favorites to perform were Credo, Sanctus, and Gloria.

If you're curious about or are a fellow former jazz choir member (as I know a few of you are) and would like to download other pieces, there are a few more available here, though the recording quality on all of these is not great: you really have to be in the recital hall or auditorium to get the full experience of UI's jazz choirs.

Some recommendations to sample his style:
Missa Africa
Song of the River
Loolah

Older stuff that's fun:
Mambo!
Pop Music
Samba!

Christmas:
Jingle Bells

There are many others I've loved performing and listening to that are only available on CDs or in DVDs of performances, like Missa Samba, Jambalaya, Skip To My Lou, Samba de Orfeu, Soolaimon, Kanyoni Kairu, The Bells, La Golondrina, Fana Naye, Mabalabala,...

Now the trick, as always, is to take these fond memories and make sure I put my energy into something I'll look back on equally fondly a few years from now. But for just this moment, I'm going to finish listening to the Missa in my car and reliving a little as I belt out my part while driving. *grin*