Pretty much anything that uses oxygen does it (sometimes for the worse, but we won’t talk about that): the energy of individuals combines when an experience is shared and that energy is compounded and boosts the individual’s energy which raises the energy level further. Lather, rinse and repeat until the entire mob is jacked up and having a blast (sort of like when one baby cries, they all chime in within minutes…the word you’re looking for would be “cacophony”). For example, if you were watching a sporting event on your couch and something awesome happened, you’d say “Wow”; if you were at a bar, you’d say “Wow” louder and high-five the stranger on the bar stool next to you. If you were AT the event, you’d be leaping up and down, screaming yourself hoarse and hugging all the strangers in the seats around you. Energy is contagious and fun.

If that energy is the cake, the “vibe” of the thing is the frosting. Consider the two concerts that the Windward Choral Society presented over the weekend. There was a grand confluence of the performance of the singers, the acoustics of the room and the joy of music that mashed together to create just that kind of frosting (dark chocolate ganache, not plain ol’ vanilla). Every concert is an awesome experience, but both of THESE shows turned the “this is amazing” knob up to 11. I could feel it, friends in the audience told me they could feel it and it was obvious that the chorus felt it, fed on it, and sent it back out to the masses.

It’s funny how these things roll. When the microphones went on vacation during the Friday night show, the audience made a real effort to hear Susie speak. The amplified “hellooooo” from over in the accompanist area when a single mic was found to be working got a great laugh. Because of the shape of the space a bunch of people could see the goofy faces that Susie made to get the singers to smile. The audience became part of the family.

The program was also really well crafted. The singers strolling in (some dancing a little) singing an energetic processional with the conga banging, building to a huge, explosive crescendo, got the place rocking and following it up with an even MORE energetic gospel piece pulled the audience in and they offered up some really thunderous applause. From that point on there was never a break from that energy cycle between singers and listeners. Music with deep meaning was felt deeply, music with “pop” to it got all the heads bobbing and toes tapping, the journey that a concert can become was taken by everyone together.

Here’s the really cool thing. Much like I mentioned last week, the audience’s participation turned nerves into focus and the choir sang incredibly well (I hate to say “I told you so”…but…well…I did). There was enough chicken skin going around to have a barbecue. Everybody was so busy having fun they seemed to forget that they were supposed to be nervous and those details that make good singing great came rolling out; things like dynamics and diction and the fact that singing with a smile sounds better than singing with that oh-so-serious scowl.

Choir, you were at your absolute best and gave one of the best performances I can remember this group presenting (and I’ve heard ’em all). Pat yourselves on the back for a bit but, more importantly, remember how that felt. Remember the butterflies in your stomach turning into a soaring song, remember how GOOD that sensation was. Remember how you understood the words and their meaning and message and offered them to your audience as a gift. THAT, my friends, is why we sing.

“God sent his Singers upon earth
With songs of sadness and of mirth,
That they might touch the hearts of men,
And bring them back to heaven again.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(Of course, you should know that you’ve now raised the bar on your own expectations as well as those of your audience. Oops.)