My husband and I took in the Saturday Night Lights jumping event for the second week in a row here in Wellington--the Winter Equestrian Capital of the World.
Each week is a little different.
Different course.
Different purse.
Different entertainment.
Well, except for the fire-eaters and flame-twirlers. It's the same troop performing at 'half-time' every week. Miss acrobat did the splits while holding two fans of flaming torches. Gentleman stilt walker juggled fiery batons and blew the stuff of dragons out his mouth.
Impressive.
Naturally, every week the National Anthem is sung as we stand with our hands on our hearts. Last week it was the local middle school choir and this week a 12-year-old whose thin frame belied her gusty belting.
Not so impressive.
When did this sacred anthem sprout new notes, slurs and appoggiaturas? And I'm not talking about the acceptable improvisation and stylizing that a veteran voice might employ.
I'm talking about scooping and sliding to the pitch. A clear indication of an untrained voice and violation of correct singing. Are those sirens I hear?
In disbelief, I listened as the choir, in perfect unison, scooped up to the high notes and dragged down to the low ones. And then this week, the little soloist slipped and slid the same exact way.
My God, my vocal teacher would have booted me out of her office faster than you can say do-re-mi for singing so sloppily.
You must place the pitch squarely in the middle. Imagine it in your head first, then hit the target in the bull's eye. If not, go back to the practice room until you stop swerving around every note like your driving on ice.
It was a clear sign of inferior singing. The mark of a novice; a beginner. And never could I have imagined being allowed to perform a song in such shape.
I'm sure we could trace the trend to some current pop singer who set this vocal standard in the cellar, put this bar in the basement. And every indiscriminate influencee thinks it's fashionable and like-worthy to follow suit. Of course, the sweet budding students can't be faulted or even the conductors. Some arranger did a simplified version of John Stafford Smith's tune to accommodate developing voices and the music teacher said, yeah, they can achieve this.
A purist, such as my piano teacher, (who had performed before the Queen and forbade me play 'Fur Elise' until I could handle the technical middle section), would never have assigned the simplified National Anthem to any choir. It would had to have been the original or else wait and work for maturation of skill. Perhaps the singing issue is due to a greater problem of a declining arts culture...
Fortunately, the horse jumping was graceful,
skilled,
and beautiful to watch.
The years of practice and discipline loaded in every leap, turn and trot. Lithe equines responding to their master's nudge and prod; rich coats glistening as muscles rippled at every calculated and memorized move.
Maybe next week the music will find its stride the way the horse and riders have.
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