Rockin’ at 84!

NEA Jazz Masters Awards

Paquito de Riviera on the clarinet

On January 14, my husband, who is on the national board of the National Endowment for the Arts, and I had the great privilege of going to the NEA Jazz Masters Awards in NYC.

We had lunch with Jimmy Heath, who with his brother, Percy, created the Modern Jazz Quartet. We sat with Ahmad Jamal, the seminal pianist who coined the term American Classical music for jazz. And we had dinner with McCoy Tyner, who has played with all the great jazz musicians of the 20th century. All these musicians and the other jazz masters who came to the event are in their 80s. Their walk on to the stage betrayed their age, but when they played, oh my! Their fingers flew, ageless and flexible. The music inside them leaped out.

Sheila Jordan told the story of being too young to go in to the jazz clubs. So she sat outside the stage door, which Dizzy Gillespie had opened for her so she could hear the music. She then sang Sheila’s Blues for us, the story of how she became a jazz singer, complete with a scat duet with Ron Carter on the bass, singing these words, “And that’s why I am standing here before you today at 84, singing the blue -ooh -ues!”

Jimmy Heath and Ahmad Jamal chatting at lunch

I want to be singing at 84, too! I want to sing until I die. All of these octogenarians will play until they die. Ahmad Jamal said that the music keeps them alive. Words to live by.

Begin Again

The nature of life and learning music is to begin again and again and again. A new year is a good time to remind ourselves that there is no arrival point in music. Learning to sing or to play an instrument is a process of expansion. There may be moments of listening and sharing, like a lesson, a recital or an audition, but even those performances are only a snapshot of a particular time.

Music is often taught from a model that believes perfection is the goal. I believe we as humans, singers and musicians are unfolding, that our musical explorations reveal deeper and deeper layers of who we are, which in turn informs our music. Singing, especially, vibrates our entire being. Be curious. Be patient. Begin again.

A Season for Songs

December, with its holidays of love and light, is anchored for me by the songs of the season. My favorite ritual is the Holiday Concert I coordinate at the Canterbury Children’s Center, a small, one-room schoolhouse for grades K-4. This year, the children memorized and sang songs in honor of Native Americans, whose culture they had been studying, Hannukah, Solstice and Christmas. Normally, we hold this concert at in the dark, a short hike down into snowy, luminaire-lit

our dress rehearsal in the morning. How cute and sweet are they!

woods. This year, it rained, so we held it indoors, which was beautiful and intimate.
With a halo of candlelight illuminating each precious face, the children become an angel choir, reminding us that innocence, trust and wonder reside in all of us.
May your holidays be filled with love and light and full of songs to open your heart.

Singing with Larksong Trio

Calvin, Jennifer and I warming-up before the concert.


Larksong Trio is a cross-over chamber ensemble which performs classical art songs as well as traditional folk music. Comprised of Calvin Herst on piano, Jennifer Yeaton-Parris on flute and me as the vocal lark, we have been working together for ten years. On Nov. 30 at the Concord Community Music School, we gave a concert called “Places to Remember,” a collection of folk songs that we have recently recorded.
The concert was sold out, which was extremely gratifying, I must admit. And it was so much fun! We were very well prepared, having spent the fall rehearsing and recording. Which meant we could relax into each song, savoring the beauty, listening to the simple elegance of our group sound, reveling in the magic of music. Adequate and effective practice is the best antidote to performance anxiety. At the dress rehearsal, Jennifer and I joked that we were nervous that we weren’t nervous!
We chose our songs mainly because of their beauty, with lyrical melodies and heart-opening emotion. We had nothing to be nervous about.
We each played our musical part, giving the audience and ourselves a night to remember.

Let My Voice Out!

Playing around in Rhode Island

At the Rhode Island Vibrant Voice workshop earlier this month, a participant named Odile wrote the following,
“Let my voice out. Liberate it, find it, love it. Let my voice reconcile every component of my life, my heart and soul.”
Our voice is a multi-layered reflection of who we are. There is the public voice and the private voice, the inner monologue and the deeper voice of our soul. What I love about Vibrant Voice workshops is the opportunity to acknowledge and “liberate” all the levels of our voice. When we do that, our public voice becomes connected to our core. With this liberated voice, we can speak or sing with clarity and freedom.
I love helping people find their voice, watching as participants come home to themselves through a reacquaintance with their voice, reclaiming the whole multi-leveled layer-cake of delight. I am deeply grateful to all the women in this recent workshop for sharing themselves with me, playing vocally with me, and teaching me how to stay connected to my own voice. Consider joining me at a Vibrant Voice workshop or host one in your area. It’s a blast.

Thank You For Being My Voice

Thank You for Being My Voice

“Thank you for being my voice. Teach me more of your value as time goes on. The more I know you the more I love you.” Nona wrote these words at a Vibrant Voice workshop in Rhode Island earlier this month. 45 fabulous women sang, chanted, toned, jumped, wrote and flew for six song-filled hours.
The women summed up their experience with these words:
Centering
Connection
Expansion
Harmony
Chakras
Deep
Recovery
Relaxation
Possibility
Freedom
Focus
Fun
It was all that and more for me, too. Thank you, women, thank you!

Connecting in Rhode Island

VOTE!

VOTE!

Ned Helms, Paul Hodes, Jim Demers and me having fun on the Obama bus!

On Sunday, I drove around New Hampshire in a rolling billboard, a bus wrapped in Obama’s colors with a huge sign on the side saying Vote Nov. 6th. Voting is the ultimate gift of free speech, of speaking up for our values and the future of the country. This election is about speaking up for truth and inclusivity.
The philosophies of the two sides could not be more different. In fact, as a country, we are very evenly split. Democrats believe that we are all in this together. Fundamentally, Democrats value truth, compassion, and inclusivity. The current Republican message is that everyone is on their own.
The Republican version of smaller government means government can’t control my choices and freedoms except when it comes to women’s bodies, whom I love and how we’ll pay for our common needs. That’s not freedom. That’s illusion.
The 21st. century has brought us huge challenges – two wars, a global financial collapse, a near depression, and the environmental and personal disasters of the Gulf oilrig explosion and two hurricanes. When people are afraid, our instinct is to retreat, compress and blame. The Republicans are counting on that reaction with their message of fear and exclusivity. It is time to think beyond our reactionary fears. It is time to speak from our hearts. Democracies only work to the extent that everyone votes. Speak up for your beliefs and for our common future. Vote Democratic tomorrow!

Singing for My Mother, part 2

Sing “Amazing Grace” with Esther (in pink)


Every time I visit The Memory Center and sing, I am struck by how much music helps people who are memory impaired come alive. Their eyes light up. They smile. They bob their heads with the beat. As we sing together, we become a connected community. The present moment is sweet and healing for all of us.
This connection happens at a physical level that is both tangible and energetic. Everything in the universe is composed of vibrating parts, from each cell in our bodies to the stars in the furthest galaxy. Sound is audible vibration. When we sing or listen to music, all of our body’s vibrations realign harmonically with the external musical rhythms.
There is a growing body of evidence from the fields of sound healing and music therapy that confirm what we know from experience. Singing anchors us to the present moment. It oxygenates all our cells. When singing, we breathe deeper and slower, which relieves stress. Because there is more oxygen in the blood, the heart doesn’t have to work as hard. Blood pressure goes down. Endorphins, the body’s natural painkillers, are released, which also make us happy. Music can be used for physical and emotional healing, pain management, easing life’s transitions including death, and building community.
Alzheimer’s is a heart-breaking disease, but when we sing together, there are smiles, laughter, swaying, tapping, dancing and rocking in wheel chairs. For that period of time, we are comforted, energized, connected and happy, a community of singing souls. When I visit my mother, I bring her songs.

Mom and me.

Esther and Doris

Songs for My Mother

This post is the first half of an article I wrote for the Concord Monitor. I will post the second half next week.

Singing with Mom and my sister, Heidi.


I am a singer. I process the world through my ears and my voice. In early October, I went to Virginia to celebrate my mother’s 80th birthday. Mom has advanced Alzheimer’s. When I visit, I sing to her – lullabies, folk songs, spirituals and old hymns. Once again, I am reminded of this profound fact – sound creates healing, connection and community.
The last night of my visit, Mom and I sat in the quiet Town Center of her residence, rocking in rhythm together. I sang “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Her face lit up and she began moving her lips to the words. I sang “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and Mom spontaneously began tapping her knees with her hands in perfect time with the beat. She “sang” with me, sounds and notes intelligible to her, in time with me, anchoring her to the memory of a song from her past and sharing that memory with another person – me – in the present.
What is heart-warming and astonishing is that Mom has almost no language left. At 80, Mom’s twinkling, sassy face is mostly vacant. She doesn’t know me. For a while, she knew my voice. Now the songs connect and comfort us – face-to-face, word-by-word, together in the present moment.
When I sing for the residents, I sing songs from their childhood and early adulthood – I’ve Been Working On The Railroad, You Are My Sunshine, My Wild Irish Rose, Let Me Call You Sweetheart. Two dozen gray-haired folks cluster around the piano, most in wheelchairs. It’s mid-afternoon. My mother and her neighbors look sleepy, but as soon as I open my mouth, they lift their heads and start to sing. Some sing loudly. Some just move their lips. Some tap their fingers or feet. Many know the words, these sweet parents who don’t know the names of their own children.
Esther sang in a church choir all her life. When I sing “Amazing Grace,” Esther stands up with me, holds my hand, watches my lips and sings every verse. Her face is alight with joy.
After nearly two hours of music, a well-coifed, white-haired woman came up to me and said, “I hope you come back again soon.” I noticed her singing every song. I asked her what her name was. She answered with a smile, “Doris Duvall. Isn’t that a lovely name?” I agreed it was.

Returning to Myself

I released a newly hatched monarch the morning of my accident. It will fly to Mexico. We are both returning.

I missed last week’s blog because I was in a car accident 10 days ago, blind-sided by a truck hitting my passenger door at full speed, and sent spinning – literally and metaphorically out of control and out of my normative life. Miraculously, I am basically okay except for a concussion and neck issues. In the week after the accident, I took several long baths with epsom salts and lavendar. I put on Jennifer Berezan’s CD “Returning,” which is an hour-long chant in homage to the Mother Earth. Several of the basic tracks were recorded in Malta in an ancient temple.
With my body submerged and my head below the top of the tub, I chanted along with the CD. It was like a resonant, sonic womb. My voice merged with the voices of the recording, vibrating my body from the inside out. The vibrations of my voice vibrated my body, my body and voice vibrated the water, which in turn vibrated my body. I was bathed in the healing vibrations of sound.
“Returning,” Berezan chants. Each time, I felt my body let go of its aches and stiffness, my mind let go of anxiety and fear, my jaw relax, and my mind stop, dropping me into the center of the vibration, which was me. Deeply grateful, I returned to myself.