Covid has had a profound effect on everyone. Though it seems the virus is receding, the impacts and conversations around Covid and our response to it are not going away any time soon. There is no way around it, this has been a generational event. One that I fear will impact and shape us for decades to come. For my part, it has made me reevaluate all that came before. As a woman, I am so many people. I am a wife, a mother, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a colleague, a teacher, a singer, a mentor, a woman of faith. Just as Covid has blurred the lines between the office and the home, it’s shown me how much I desire to synthesize myself, examine who I am and spend my time and energy pursuing things that matter.
As a wife and mother, Covid has given me space to savor the final years of my children living at home. It’s given me room to enjoy my husband as we learn to pursue new hobbies and passions that will feed our relationship well after our children have officially left the nest.
As a teacher, Covid has made me reevaluate how I want to reach students. It’s taken me off the campus. It’s put me online. It’s showed me that there is a whole world of singers to be mentored and coached, and they don’t have to take out massive college loans to pursue their passions! I can meet my students wherever they’re at. They can cultivate a love of singing even without the bricks and mortar and steep debt that accompany traditional institutions. In years to come, I look forward to building programs that bridge the online learning world with the real-world joy of making music with others.
Then there is the impact that Covid has had on my personal artistic journey. For many years as a singer, I have had an “always yes” policy. Voices aren’t meant to be hidden or muzzled, they are meant to be shared. So when people ask me to sing, I am honored and I oblige them. After all, the more people you share your voice with, the greater the odds of developing wonderful artistic collaborations. Opportunity truly favors the bold and the bold say, “yes!”
Developing your voice is one thing. Sharing your voice is another, but knowing what you have to say…that can take time. For me, I’ve said a lot over the years. I have bounced in and out of genres. I’ve played so many parts, sung tons of roles, recorded with orchestras and the smallest of ensembles, took requests in piano bars and Italian restaurants… Jazz, the great American song book, opera, oratorio, art song, early music, musical theatre, crossover… I was happy just singing. I never really thought about what I was saying. I just opened myself up to it and enjoyed every moment. Because singing is a gift – a gift that is meant to be shared.
As I returned to the concert stage this past fall with concerts large and small, I noticed a theme. One that made sense not just for my voice but for my soul – sacred music. Throughout my career, I had always sung this music. In fact, my earliest memory singing was the “Our Father.” I was probably no more than three years old when my grandmother gathered a group of her church lady friends so they could “hear Heidi sing.” As a teen that same Grandmother would bribe me with voice lessons for my faithful mass attendance. I never sang in the church choir (and wasn’t too interested in school choir, for that matter), but I went to church. And when I left home for college, I kept going.
Over the years, I’ve sung countless masses, weddings, funerals. Standing on a foundation of coerced attendance, I came to really understand and appreciate my faith not in the chapel, but in the classroom and in the concert hall. As an undergrad at Westminster Choir College, I encountered my musical heritage – studying the impact of the church on western music, singing and recording major works with the best orchestras in the world. All those prayers I had been saying since I was a small child made sense. They made sense not only to me, but they inspired the most profound beauty. Not only were these ideas and texts precise, their purpose was transcendent and they were the root of western music. Meeting the Liturgy in the classroom and in the concert hall had a profound effect on me. That encounter has echoed through my entire adult life. My grandmother brought me into the church. She ingrained in me the connection between my singing and my religion, but it was the concert hall and the canon that gave me faith.
So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that coming out of Covid, one of the darkest times in modern life, I finally understand what it is I have to say.. what I have to sing. It’s not just a job or that thing I do on a Sunday morning. It’s a calling – to use my voice for the glory and honor of God.
I have made a commitment to only sing music that encourages and uplifts the human soul, to use my voice to inspire a human connection to the divine. Whether that be in the concert hall or the church, I am offering all that I have as an artist to bring comfort and hope to a weary world. I am curating my performing career to reflect my deep and abiding faith. Of course, this commitment has meant that I have had to break my “always yes.” Some performance opportunities, though fun and exciting, simply don’t meet my commitment. That said, I have found that this standard has brought me new and amazing opportunities. It fueled my performances in the fall and strengthened my commitment to the work I am doing with Seraphour.
Just weeks after formally adopting this mission, I was tasked with putting together a first-rate memorial service for a gentlemen whose legacy and impacts on agriculture and in the region were profound. Bringing together musicians from the New West Symphony along with singers from LA Master Chorale, Areté Vocal Ensemble, and of course, my Seraphour colleagues, I had an opportunity to bridge the concert hall and the church – presenting the Fauré Requiem in the context of an actual Liturgical celebration. Under the direction of Dominic MacAller, with Kevin Stoller playing organ and Everett Kelly playing trumpet, this was the most spectacular memorial service I had ever seen or heard. The space, an historic Church in the heart of downtown Oxnard, was stunning and it was filled with the most heavenly music. It was a send-off worthy of a dignitary, but more than that it was an inspiration – sacred music, in a sacred space, in the context and silence of the mass. Days later I am still waking up with the music and the memory echoing in my spirit. It was a moment I will not soon forget. I suspect that many of those in attendance will carry that memory as well, but more than that, it is my prayer that it echoes in their souls and draws them closer to the divine.
Music has the power to serve. It’s up to the singer who they choose to serve. Many singers serve their audiences, others serve a producer or a director, plenty serve themselves. I choose to serve God. I want to be the vessel for comfort in a weary world. When I sing, I empty myself of all that I am and open myself to be used in service. I’m not a doctor, I cannot heal the wounds of the body. If through my voice, I can connect to another person and give them a moment of inspiration and beauty, perhaps I can help to heal the soul. or at least, I can try.