Been a minute!

music, Professional Career, , ,

I’ve been holding on to my website for YEARS, paying the fee to keep my .com alive for who knows why. Two rambling musings from back in 2016 are my only posts. Anyone checking out kristinmorris.com would think I was dead. But nope, I’m alive and well, and have simply forgotten about the joy of writing! Hopefully that changes NOW. I’d like to begin with sharing my music journey, for anyone who has only met the person I am now.

I was once busy getting paid to sing other people’s music, with little time for my own. That’s in the past. I’m no longer looking for (or, let’s face it, being offered) gigs. But now I have time for my own creativity and I relish it! I run an independent voice/piano studio out of my (new to me) home. It’s a beautiful space in which to pour in to the next generation of music makers, and now that we’re all settled in, it’s high time I added some students to the schedule. Along with students coming to my home for private lessons, I hope to pour some of my passion into a YouTube channel dedicated to encouraging the creative process of bringing songs to life. Stay tuned!

Memories fade and so many of mine are important only to me, but they help explain my heart and passion for musical excellence, expression, communication in singing – that thing that I used to do so easily but now must work REALLY hard to do (mentally) well enough that it might still come across as easy. These days, that mental work has actually gone from emotionally draining and sometimes depressing, to exciting and helpful to me as a teacher guiding younger singers. My focus has changed, and with that so has my attitude and my outlook. Praise God for that!

So I’ll share a few memories of how it used to be, in order to catch you up on how I ended up where I am now:

I decided at nine years old I’d be a professional singer when I grew up. Barbra Streisand, Peter, Paul and Mary, and Simon and Garfunkel records were my first teachers, an enthusiastic play-by-ear pianist elementary school music teacher, then private piano and sax lessons, Junior choir, an exacting and passionate Jr. high school choir director, band, then high school completely wrapped up in all things music, a father who blasted classical music through the house at all hours he was home–everything from opera to Jazz, Beethoven symphonies and whatever the classical radio station wanted to play. In high school I ran with the broadway music and soft pop geeks and listened to cast albums of every show, went to New York on field trips to see musicals, performed in as many as I could, finally getting leads. Chorally I excelled and all those early years of harmonizing with those records served me well when it came time to audition for state and regional and all-eastern choral festivals. I continued private piano until I was seventeen and my piano teacher then passed me on to an amazing voice teacher who challenged me to learn arias and languages, mature sacred music and art song all while I was making up Billy Joel accompaniments by ear at home so I could sing his songs at the piano. At church I was racking up solo opportunities, singing at weddings, starting to get paid. Outside school I found myself performing lead roles with adults in both opera and summer dinner theater, and toured in a choir of auditioned highschoolers performing in cathedrals all over Europe. And I came home from that and announced I would NOT be attending the state school I’d enrolled in for music ed, but rather, simply HAD to go to the best school in the country and major in performance! My father sighed, and said, “Well, then, I suppose you’ll be traveling 600 miles away then.” The Number ONE school of music in the United States at the time was Indiana University, Bloomington, IN, now known as The Jacobs School of Music. I don’t know how or why they supported my crazy ideal, but they did. They let me take a year off so that I could work and cram in more piano as well as continue voice lessons to prepare for the audition process, and on a cold weekend in January, off I went to audition, mom driving me all the way from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to Bloomington, Indiana for one afternoon to sing 3 contrasting arias for a panel of judges, then all the way home to wait for the result. My acceptance letter came the day before my March 21st birthday, and I asked God “Why? Why have You made this so easy for me?!!” And that night I received His answer, and wrote a song, “The Reason I Sing” — more on that later.

Freshman year in Bloomington was incredible. Although my choral auditions first semester netted me nothing but Women’s Chorus, thus putting a much needed check on my out of control ego, I was blessed to perform with a makeshift band of dormies who swept the all-school IU Sing competition with our seven-minute “musical” in all categories, delved into Hungarian women’s 4-part songs, landed a spot in an opera chorus needing extra women and made friends with seniors and grad students as a result, and enjoyed belting out show and pop tunes at the piano with my new friends at Teter Quad. One of those evenings at the piano resulted in an opportunity for me to perform “The Reason I Sing” for a Navigator Rally, which resulted in my becoming a senior audio technology major’s senior project, which resulted in a fully professional multitrack recording of my song which, 5 years later, won a spot on the WXIR Christian Album Project in Indianapolis! Second semester’s new choral auditions got me into BOTH the Singing Hoosiers and the top Chamber Choir! The most wonderful thing that happened to me during that time however, was Jesus. I’ll share that in another post; we’ll stick to the music stuff here, but it was significant enough that it has to come alongside these musical memories. I wrote some more songs. Took on a new love of contemporary Christian music and immersed myself in that genre while soaking up classical music in school. My friend groups dramatically changed.

While the next four years (yes, it took me five) were filled with growth and relationship building in a Christian community of like-minded disciples mostly outside the music school, I found fellowship within as well, as a grad student in orchestral conducting gathered together a band of Christian music majors, and discipled us. We met weekly for bible study, ministered together at a convalescent center, and founded a Christian coffee-house which was open monthly on Saturday evenings and where I rocked out to Keith Green songs, which I still love singing to this day. I became a Madrigal Singer and performed that splendid a cappella Renaissance music in costume multiple nights every year throughout the two weeks of December until I graduated. My Chamber Choir traveled to Atlanta, GA, to sing Messiah with the Atlanta Symphony under Robert Shaw, I performed in several more operas, some with lead roles, was asked to participate in the recording of a new musical in which I would sing a role with 3 of the top singers in the school performing the other roles, 2 of whom are now professors of voice at IU. Leonard Bernstein came to IU for a season, auditioned the voice students for roles in his “Mass” to be performed at the Kennedy Center, and I won the role of “Rock Singer”! Alas, he later decided to bag the idea of using IU students for his project. I stayed plenty busy being asked to sing on recitals of new music for composition grad students, pick up choirs for conducting grad students, studio operas for directing grad students. If you can read and you can emote, you stay in hot demand! Chamber Choir was given the privilege of traveling with IU Music School to New York City to perform not only our own concert at the Julliard School but also with the IU Opera as a chorus of villagers in the World English Premiere of “The Greek Passion” at the Metropolitan Opera, AND we provided the choral ensemble for the IU Symphony Orchestra at Avery Fischer Hall, during a 2 week trip of IU in NYC. SO memorable, that trip! I have to say, in retrospect, that although my “performance” diploma isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on, the memories are ALL worth it.

Both the Director of Opera Theater, Professor Ross Allen, and the Head of the Choral Department, my Chamber Choir director Robert Porco, sat me down at the end of my 5 years when they inquired about my plans for graduate school, and tried to talk me into staying. They both offered me graduate assistantships. I turned them down. I couldn’t wait to move on with life. It was foolish of me to not take them up on this opportunity, and Jim, my fiance, was far from finished with his undergraduate program. We could have married and stayed. Painfully poor, of course, and already steeped in debt, we just couldn’t see how that could be possible. All things are possible with God, but we couldn’t see it. So I left, went back home to PA for the summer, then moved to Indianapolis to be near Jim and plan our wedding.

As soon as I moved to Indy I started singing in a church choir and doing solos, and auditioned for the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir. Got in, but just couldn’t bring myself to join the group once I found out how far away the rehearsals would be and how much I would have to pay for my own music. We were dirt poor! So I joined another choir, the Indianapolis Arts Chorale, and was in that group for a number of years, with plenty of great solo experiences and friends made. The Album Project previously mentioned gave me opportunities for coffeehouse gigs and some small concerts and various churches, and more friends made, but as one representative from Word Records told me, “sorry Kristin, but you sound like Sandi Patty and Susan Ashton and, well, we already have a Sandi Patty and a Susan Ashton. We don’t need another.” That door was closed, and it was time to start a family. My last musical was “Amahl and the Night Visitors.” I performed the role of Mother, pregnant with my first son. During that time I had gone from working full time for a lumber company to working at a High School as choral assistant/accompanist. I did that job until I was pregnant with son #2, and by then was also working professionally in the recording industry as a studio session vocalist for Aire Born Recording Group, singing on choral demonstration recordings for the next 20+ years as a first-call alto, often called upon to do the solos because of my ability to communicate the text as if I’d known the song for years even though I was sightreading it! I enjoyed the challenge of singing well and our choir of 8 to 12 polishing a song in 45 minutes from first laying eyes on it, with three passes so that we sounded more like 24 or 36 voices. We were, and that group remains, one of the most beautiful sounding demo choirs in America, and the income from those sessions truly helped me eke out a living as a professional while raising my boys. Along with those session gigs, I had moved on to a smaller, more professional choir, a 16 voice ensemble called “Mon Choeur” which was the resident professional choir of University of Indianapolis under Paul Krasnowsky, whom I have to thank for passing me along to the choral contractor for Aire Born Studios. I enjoyed the privilege of singing the alto arias for Handel’s Messiah with the Taylor University Choirs and Fort Wayne Philharmonic Orchestra, and then again with the Bach Chorale Singers of Lafayette, IN. During those years the Indianapolis Baroque Orchestra decided to do Messiah as well, and I was able to sing alto in the 16 member chamber choir for those professional performances for a number of years. From that group another wonderful choral experience emerged, the Meridian Vocal Consort. And one of my most wonderful experiences of all was being the soprano lead in a trio of singers with Hosanna Sacred Arts, a ballet/modern dance company who performed mostly original music with live singers interwoven in a glorious work glorifying God during the Christmas season. I sang with HSA for for years, through the birth of two sons.

I continued to write songs, record and perform concerts for churches, retreats, do weddings and funerals, and developed a concert I took to nursing homes as well. I took on the leadership role of directing my church’s children’s music camp musical for a number of years, and continue to direct the children’s choir during Christmas season. I sang for several years with an a cappella quartet company known as the Dickens Carolers, in full 19th century costume during the Christmas season as well. I went to India with a ministry team for 2 and a half weeks, singing for schools and churches throughout south India. That life-changing adventure resulted in a relationship of service and ministry that continues to this day with India Youth For Christ.

And during all these singing adventures, I taught students to sing. I taught one student at a time, in my home, while raising my boys. One student at a time, putting on recitals and master classes from time to time to get them all together, sometimes having only 8 or 9 weekly clients, sometimes up to 24, but always teaching someone. During all these years I was (still am) an adjudicator for Indiana State School Music Association Solo and Ensemble Contests, judging (more like giving voice lessons on paper for) young singers in the Group I Required List category mostly, having learned so many of the songs on that list during my days in college as a voice major and afterward having taught those songs over and over. It has always been and continues to be what I consider my “primary profession.” Even now, although as I type this, I am down to only two voice students and one piano student. Yep, 3 students. Again, it’s a long story for another post!

It’s been a good long while since I thought about all those musical experiences. And a bit of a minute since I got in touch with writing. Hopefully now that I’ve got that “resume” part of me all typed out, I can move on to the musings of life as a musician in the yoke of Christ. But at this point in my life, it’ll be far less about the musician part, and far more about the yoke. See ya back her soon!

Dear Peg

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Disclaimer:  To all my friends, past or present, with the name “Margaret” who are referred to as Peggy or Peg, please forgive me for using your nickname in what might be considered a sarcastic or even what you might consider derogatory manner.  Please take no personal offense!  It just fits what I feel like saying today.  I happen to love and respect each and every woman named “Peg” I have ever met!

Dear Peg,

I watched the Republican National Convention coverage last evening.  I mean, how can I rail and rant about politics (those rare moments when it’s fun to do, at least in the privacy of my own home, or before God, which I often do) if I don’t pay a little attention to what our leader wannabes and actual policymakers are saying to their constituents in public?  And I was left with a particularly STRONG impression:

Trump has a really, really BEAUTIFUL wife.  I mean, drop dead gorgeous.  Are ya with me on this?  She’s a knockout.

There, that was safe.  Let’s just stick to something we can all agree on.

I’m writing to you, Peg.  You know who you are.  Or perhaps you don’t.  Perhaps you don’t get that just because someone ends up having to vote for a guy like Mr. Trump they might not actually agree with everything he stands for or what he says he’ll push through.  Or if someone ends up having to vote for a woman like Mrs. Clinton they might not actually agree with everything she stands for or what she says she’ll push through.  Perhaps a person simply has to vote for SOMEONE who comes closest to resembling what their gut says is best for our country.

Can’t wait to see the DNC next week.  Surely there’ll be SOMETHING Peg and I can agree on after that…

See, Peg, I’m thinking that I’ve been really unfair to these candidates, among others. Those who affect our society, for better or for worse, are people we would disagree with on a lot of things if we sat down and started conversing.  But they have enough backbone to stick to their guns even through all the labels, the attempts to stifle or shut them up, by people who don’t agree with them, and for that I admire them all, if I’m honest.  Trump, Pence, Clinton, Sanders, the Brexit campaigners across the ocean, and even ISIS get my admiration right now.  Like Jesus, my greatest hero, they press on in spite of the labeling and shaming and shunning.  Me, I’m afraid of YOU, Peg–I have no backbone!  Even writing this blog scares me, Peg, which is why I’m writing to you right off the bat–to get this off my chest.

I’ve met you many times before.  Sometimes on social media, sometimes at church, and sometimes in professional circles.  Sometimes I’ve heard you on the radio or seen you on TV.  You’re everywhere and I’m afraid of opening my mouth to speak anymore for fear you’ll do it again…you’ll peg me.

For example, Peg, I’m so afraid to discuss my convictions about homosexuality that I just avoid having to do so at all costs, and it keeps me from pursuing social contact with friends who have spoken out against evangelical Christianity because of this issue.  Now, I actually have a couple gay friends who know where I stand and still love me and my heart as I do them and theirs, even though we disagree and this pains us both.  It’s not really my gay friends whom I fear will peg me, it’s you, Peg, the self-righteous, self-proclaimed “hater-police” who thinks she/he is in step with the times, enlightened, and not at all interested in why I might still hold on to my biblical ideals about the human race and what’s best for us, whether I be Christian, or Muslim, or simply conservative that way. You see me as cold-hearted and therefore you feel justified in giving me the cold-shoulder.  And if you claim to be Christian, you’ve bought into the rewriting and reinterpretation of biblical texts and there is no room for discussion.  I am evil; you’ve pegged me.

Or perhaps, my dear Peg, you’re the church member who is convinced that all those who defend the LGBTQ community are pagans and God-haters?  Perhaps you cannot conceive that many folks who stand alongside their friends wrestle with the spiritual stigma which comes from standing up to defend the societal rights of people who have given into the pull of same-sex love because they recognize that, at the end of the day, there is none righteous, no not one, or they’re tired of the vitriol and persecution they have witnessed at the hands of the self-righteous, Pharasaical religious zealots of our day and hundreds of years leading up to our day?  Have you got them “pegged” when they, too, might be confused about how to interpret Jesus’ mandate NOT to judge as you are (but you don’t know it yet)?

Dear Peg, have you ever stopped to consider that some people who see things differently from you might actually have, or are still wrestling with, loads of questions surrounding issues of theology, of ethics, of politics and society and humankind and the environment, and would love to hear you out, but when you shut them down with a label, there can be no conversation?

And we could apply this to Pro-Life/Pro-Choice, to Black vs. Blue, to liberal vs conservative anything, environmental studies and theory, creation vs. evolution, egalitarianism vs. complementarianism.  (Got ya on that one, I’ll bet, unless you’re into arguing about who wears the pants in the family!)

When I think back over my life, child of the 60’s that I am, I would like to state as someone often “pegged” (even self-pegged) an evangelical conservative white midwesterner, that I am thankful for the dissidents and the protesters. With little exception, I can certainly see that we all benefit from those who stood up (or stood beside) to protest injustice, falsehood, heresy, and anything else which needed to be adjusted in our society to help it become more free, more just, more fair and equal to all its citizens.

My parents spoke up all the time about how they felt on issues.  They were progressive in their beliefs on just about everything, but  I didn’t end up sharing a lot of their convictions for a very long time as I was working out my Christian faith.  I had the inclination to peg them, as they had the inclination to peg me, and it stunted our growth on both sides.  I so very much want to refrain from doing this with my own grown sons!  Because at the end of the day, if we’ve been paying attention, we’ve probably grown a little wiser than we were yesterday, and it’s fun to share that growth with each other and help each other along the way.

I guess that’s my point, Peg.  I’m really, really thankful that my country still tries to give platforms and voices and opinions free reign, and that our greater society through internet and social media has a way of keeping those voices heard. I don’t want to be someone who keeps my mouth shut all the time and hides from stating my beliefs or convictions about what I feel is best for society, or for you, either, out of fear of being labeled.  Of course, I too must work harder, much harder, at refraining from jumping to label someone when I hear their ideas.  The conversation ends when that happens.  The bell rings, we go to our corners, and come out both guns blazing, and somebody always gets hurt.

Labels never win the day.  Good ideas, wisdom, truth–eventually these will win, after the smoke clears.  I believe in a God who is sovereign over all of this, and this God has already declared Himself the winner.  I dare not presume to decide who among us is on the winning team, however, because I see through a VERY dull and dark glass, according to the book I’ve read on the subject.  So I’m not afraid to listen.  If you won’t peg me, I’d love to hear you out.  Thanks for hearing me.  I cannot imagine every losing the fear of speaking out, but I’m praying for courage to do that AND to listen, too.

The Present of Past

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The funny thing about reminiscing is that we no longer feel the physical sensations we felt when whatever we’re remembering actually happened.  For instance, when my father, in the heat of an argument with his volatile daughter, labeled me something one should only reserve for a female dog, I can tell you that I remember my toes, my fingers, my throat and everything in between suddenly went numb and then throbbed with pain, but because I cannot seem to muster up the same feeling now even though I’m trying to think about it, all I can do is re-analyze the moment, and without that pain, I confess I only recall now that the title was earned, and my current “feeling” is sorrow over my part in that episode.

The majority of the memories I have of my father are tinged with sadness, but none of the actual pain – whether emotional or physical – remains to haunt me.  And so as I think back on him in the present, I still here on this earth and he passed on to that “next” realm, even the sad memories soften and most turn to a sort of “fond” nostalgia, as they should.

I don’t want to actually “go back there,” and yet I find that it’s comforting to take a little time now and again to revisit this “new” past in my imagination, perhaps learning from it still.  Perhaps continuing to know myself better for doing so.

I was not allowed to sing Schubert’s beautiful song cycle, “Frauenliebe Und Leben” (Woman’s Life And Love) in my early college years at IU Jacobs  School of Music.  The Song Literature professor was adamant that an undergraduate such as myself simply had not yet lived through enough to invoke the necessary emotions for such pieces.

Perhaps he was right, (I did sing them in spite of his protests my senior year, with my teacher’s permission) but I can say with certainty that my emotions were far more raw and extreme in those “dating” days than they are now!  Life in the yoke of Christ has tempered me–calmed me down– considerably.   I would love to sing those songs again in concert now at 56, but the question is, would I be able to actually muster up the necessary thrill of being in love for the first time, or having a ring placed on my finger, or the wonder of my new baby?  When is it “time” to express one’s emotions and be the most “real”?  In the heat of the moment?  Or when one has had the opportunity to see an event from the eyes of all involved?

Ok, so I need to bring my best acting chops into it if I want to sing this cycle at my age!  I agree.  But I can certainly bring a perspective to the woman of this work that even she herself could not, in that moment, possess.  Perhaps that counts for something.  At any rate, the songs don’t exist until someone opens her mouth and allows them to breathe again.  Music, ah music!  Written to express a present reality felt deeply by the composer in the moment, brought to life again and again by those who wish to keep it alive.  NO ONE could bring to these pieces exactly what that woman felt whom the poet channeled.  So what?  Better remembered than not, and perhaps all the sweeter for the distance, richer for the lessons learned along the way.