singing to the jewels

My gig last night consisted of what can only be referred to as "singing to the jewels." Once upon a time, during my sophomore year of undergrad, the DePauw choir went on tour to Hawaii. It wasn't so much a "tour" as it was a gorgeous beach vacation where we laid about on the beach all day, came in at around 4:45, rinsed the sand off our feet, donned our choir dresses, and went down to the lobby of the Sheraton Waikiki and sang for our lodging for 45 minutes. During the rehearsal process, Dr. Irwin told us that we needed to "sing to the jewels", which has now become a legendary catch phrase.

And last night, sing to the jewels I did. The gig was at a fancy club in Vernon Hills, a posh northwest suburb, for the Rolls Royce Club of America's holiday party. Unfortuntely, the inclement weather meant the members did not bring their Rolls' to the party, but they were dressed to the nines, and the alcohol was flowing freely. I arrived at quarter of seven, dressed in one of my best gowns and a wrap, and was greeted at the door by the valets, who held the door open for me. On my way in, I met one of the other tenors who would be part of the trio of singers performing that night. He had been doing this gig for a few years, and gave me the heads up. Apparently, we would be singing a few sets of Christmas carols, show tunes, and possibly a few "opera's greatest hits" arias (re: O mio babbino caro), then I could expect a delicious meal and possibly some wine or scotch. Now, I'm not a scotch drinker, but after seeing the "wall of scotch" at this place, I might become a convert. One entire glass wall cabinet held atleast 500 bottles of scotch, some of which I was told run a hundred bucks a SHOT. It was quite a spectacle.

In total, we probably sang about thirty minutes tops. We did a set of Christmas carols in parts (thank God I'm the soprano, so I get to sing melody all the time), then did a set of popular show tunes: I Could Have Danced All Night, some Rodgers and Hammerstein, and the like. Between sets I chatted up the other two singers, both tenors, who work quite a bit in the Chicago area. It's always great to meet other singers and swap stories and ideas.

After we finished our second set, the management and kitchen staff sat us down at a table and proceeded to serve us the best meal I've had in a while: prime rib, potatoes, broccoli, salad, bread. While we were eating, one of the women from the party came up to gush about our singing and asked if we would lead a Silent Night singalong. So, we headed up a rousing Silent Night, after which one of the old women pointed her finger at me and said, simply "O Holy Night." So I launched into O Holy Night in the highest key I could muster and let a high Bflat (the money note) rip through the party room. Afterward, we were led back to our table where one of the chefs had prepared us bananas foster for dessert. "Singing for your supper" was a literal term at this party.

As an opera singer, singing to the jewels is a vital part of your career. Opera ain't cheap, and it is sononomous with big money, which means wooing the Rolls Royce Club with high B flats and singing God Bless America to guests at the Sheraton Waikiki. Which means freebies like delicious prime rib dinners and free lodging at a five star hotel. I didn't become an opera singer for nothin' folks!