Friends singing at Carnegie Hall Friday!

Friday, I braved the 8 degree weather to dance, because as they say in Chorus Line, “God I’m a dancer and a dancer dances!” If only! The more I take class the less I feel like a dancer but I guess I can only improve! I must say I’m probably taking dance classes at one of the more prestigious studios in the city, so it’s my own fault. I took a beginning ballet class where I felt more like an inflexible cow than a future Gisele. The teacher was really nice and tried to help my turn-out and various other issues. I apologetically thanked her after the 90 minute class and she said I did great. Really? I promised I would try the BASIC level. So much for starting at beginning! After a short break I entered Advanced Beginning Broadway Style Tap, alongside two Rockettes, yes, the ones from Radio City, fully decked out in Rockette wear just in case you wondered who you were tapping beside. I sucked in various moments…I need to seriously work out the pull-backs but at least I rocked the turning flap-heels. Even better than the Rockettes, ha! The routine was fun and a little bit too hard for me but I loved the teacher and I know I’ll be back. I also gave him an apologetic thank you but he said I did great with a slap on my rear. Those gay guys get away with it all!
I rolled myself up and out of the dressing room full of bony ballet bodies and bused and trained it home where I found a celebratory Adrienne. She finished her last day (well, at least part of the day) at Bank of America and she begins her new job at Cornell on Monday.
Later, I checked out the nearby branch of the Public Library so I could check my email. I had to make an appointment to get on a computer and once there, I had 20 glorious minutes. As soon as my time was up another typical NYC moment occurred. The lady with the computer’s next reservation, literally scooted her chair into mine and as I stood up she whisked mine away. No “Are you finished?” or “Do you mind if I take over?” niceties here. Yikes!
I decided to try my luck with Donna and Andrew’s Carnegie Concert and so braved the chill again. Thankfully, I was able to get a ticket in the mezzanine and then had an hour of postcard-writing time at Starbucks.
The concert was up and down. It was pretty cool to see Marilyn even though I have bad memories of her indifference towards me in Music Academy of the West auditions of old. The hall was just the most gorgeous space I’ve ever seen, even if you can hear the rumble of the N-R train at various inconvenient moments of otherwise sublime stillness.
Andrew and Donna were definitely the highlight and the most engaging pair of the evening. I was excited that a fellow Rice grad and rising superstar, Sasha Cooke, sang with great rich color and sensitivity. There was even an appearance by opera superstar, Marcello Giordani, who brought me chuckles with his stereotypical tenor antics. The final Brahms quartet was a bit of a mess and I was in view of Stephen Blier, head of the NY Festival of Song, the whole time. His constant broadcast of his disinterest and even disgust with some of the singing frankly disappointed me.
But all in all, I was once again inspired and invigorated if not puzzled by one thing. Marilyn Horne is known for championing singers with huge voices and yet she has this foundation that is supposed to bring intimate art song to the masses of America. And most of her chosen ones just don’t know how to do that. Lucky for her and for me, Andrew and Donna have the handbook written!