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Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
While driving up the freeway to my meeting at the Calgary Construction Association, I luxuriate in these few wonderful minutes listening to CBC Radio, thrilled to hear anything from the world outside prefab construction.
I’m surprised at my luck to catch an interview with a guest on the mid-morning show discussing her time teaching the cast of the film Chicago to sing. Her name is Elaine.
“No waaaay,” I argue with my windshield upon learning Elaine coached some of the lead actors in Chicago for their first ever singing roles.
She is, of course, on the radio because she is shilling her new singing-lesson CD. As I was recently “fired” from my husband’s band for not taking my singing in our duo seriously enough, I think, “I should buy Elaine’s CD.”
Two years later.
For no good reason, no reason better than any of the ones from the previous 730 days, today’s the day I’m going to buy that CD. On my lunch break I go to Elaine’s website after Googling the only things I remember from the long ago interview: Elaine-Chicago-Singing Coach-Canadian.
The website says the CD is still in stock. I’m about to put it in my cart, when I see it in her EVENTS tab: Elaine Overholt is coming to Calgary – this weekend! Attendees receive the CD as part of their admission fee. If I tick another box, I can have a one-on-one with Elaine. For free.
Finally, procrastination pays off.
Saturday morning I arrive at the Cantos Music Centre with 60 other strangers. We peel off our many layers of winter-wear and sit quietly humidifying the studio, watching the riser with the lone grand piano awaiting Elaine. She arrives. We applaud wildly.
Our morning is spent blowing air and stretching our mouths, saying things like, “Maw-meee-mee-meee” higher then lower. We come to the end of making motorboat noises and I can stop pressing on a stranger’s belly to feel the diaphragm, and she mine.
It’s time for the one-on-ones with Elaine. Weird. No one is leaving. This will take days if we all signed up for a one-on-one.
“Okay!” Elaine has to shout because we are now full of extra oxygen from the breathing exercises and more boisterous. “Those who signed up for the one-on-one, come sit up here!”
I head up. Get the third chair, then see, the “One-on-one Session with Elaine” isn’t in a quiet room in the back. It is out here. In front of everyone. I scan behind the piano for an exit.
The first woman goes up. She has a high, trembling voice. Doesn’t sound like her natural register. I start fooling myself, I can do this.
Elaine gives the woman a helpful critique. The woman is grateful and heads down to join the crowd, knowing her choir will be dazzled by her new-found techniques.
The next student steps up. The woman opens her mouth. She’s a ringer. Could be Celine Dion in disguise. When she closes her mouth and stops making the angels swoon, I make my move to sneak back with the non-participants.
“Nope!” Elaine yells from the stage. Not at Celine. At me. She points at my chair. I shrink down into it. She turns back to Celine with her notes. Celine embraces Elaine’s guidance to somehow sound better than the best voice I’ve ever heard that didn’t have roadies.
It’s my turn. I slowly climb the three steps as though Elaine’s sitting at the piano wearing a hood and holding an axe in her hand.
She smiles and says, “All right. Glad we still have you. What key would you like?”
I blink, racking my brain for an appropriate letter in the alphabet that is also a musical note. I can’t come up with one, “The lowest you’ve got.”
“How’s this?” She hits a piano key.
How should I know? “Good.”
I failed to mention two things. One: At best, my voice, both singing and speaking, could be accurately compared to Bart Simpson’s. And two: Elaine has us singing her own song. Unfamiliar lyrics about rainbows and shiny things and bringing people together. Nothing rhymes.
She plays the opening flourish and nods her head so I know to start. I hit the first line – instantly I know it is too high. By the rainbow verse only dogs in the nearby off-leash park can hear me, their owners wondering what is making them howl. We get to the end. Elaine takes a moment to compose her thoughts.
“Well,” she looks out at the universally stunned faces of the audience, “You really made that your own.”
She says some other things about “key choice” and “breath control.” I mutter, “Okay,” and scramble down the first step. But cannot get off the stage – because I am being mobbed. All the people from the on-deck chairs are on their feet.
“Whoooeee!” Says the first man grabbing my hand, shaking it like he’s draining a hose. “I was going to chicken out, then I heard you and thought ‘If she’s willing to do it I sure as hell can!’”
The next hand-shaker’s eyes are moist as she helps me down the steps. She is lost for words and breathing loudly through her nose.
Everyone else, patting my back, shaking their head in wonder, holding up a high-five. They only have four words … over and over, “You are so brave.”
Julie Pithers lives in Calgary.
