One of the things I was busy with this past weekend was a choral event at Carthage called “Real Men Do Sing” – which over the last couple of years has been amended as “Real Men and Woman Do Sing.” It started out, however, as an event designed to bring together guys of all ages (including high school guys) to sing together for a day and present a concert that night. It’s the brainchild of my father-in-law, Bob Gall, and it’s been a gratifying success. Most of these years, my involvement has been limited to being an enthusiastic audience member – plus just about every year Bob has asked me to sing a solo….. which I’m pretty sure has usually been “Old Man River.” It’s a way to step back from all the classical choral and barbershop stuff and celebrate the beauty of one solo voice. (I’ve had some voice students sing for the event as well.)
This year, I was asked if I would be able to be on the podium to help prepare the guy chorus for their two classical pieces. . . and while I would do just about anything short of walking through fire for my father-in-law, I was not especially anxious to add something to my plate while I knew I would be busy with Carthage’s J-term opera. The deal-maker. . . what made me actually excited to take this on. . . was the news that I would be sharing the podium, as it were, with none other than Joe Liles- a legend in the world of Barbershop singing- former head of the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barbershop Quartet Singing in America (or S.P.E.B.Q.S.A.), quite an impressive organization which had its (inter)national headquarters in Kenosha for almost all of its history. (They recently relocated to Nashville, TN – and are much missed.) I still remember the pleasure of meeting him for the first time in his elegant office at Harmony Hall many years ago, and it didn’t take long for him to shatter any pre-conceived notions I might have had about what a full-time Barbershopper might be like. I fully expected him to be a nice, friendly guy – but frankly did not expect him to be so intelligent, sophisticated and even elegant. And the first time I interviewed him on the morning show, I came to an even deeper appreciation for what an impressive person he was.
I had lost track of Mr. Liles since his retirement from the Society (and their departure to Nashville), although I think we probably saw each other across the proverbial crowded room a time or two- but this past Saturday was my first chance in ages to actually sit down with him for any length of time. Not that there was much time for idle chitchat. This is an event which works the singers pretty hard, with an alternation of full rehearsals and sectional rehearsals beginning at 9:30 in the morning and lasting until 6:30 that night, with just a couple of 15-minute breaks plus 45-minute lunch and supper breaks. Otherwise, we were busy singing, which is as it should be!
But we got to watch each other work, and it was so inspiring to watch him work with the men and draw more and more polish and nuance from them, even while helping them to have a great fun time doing it. And I was truly humbled that someone with the credentials of Joe Liles would make a point of listening in on my rehearsals with what looked like genuine interest… and I was truly touched that he would take the time to reassure me that I was doing good work. The most extraordinary moment in our chats through the day came after a rehearsal in which I had mentioned the almost sacred mantra of the choral master Robert Shaw: All Music Must Dance! As we settled into the pews to relax during the next break, he mentioned that he had the great privilege of studying the Brahms Requiem with none other than Robert Shaw: a special one-on-one coaching paid for by the huge Texas church which Joe was working for at the time. Joe’s face lit up as he recalled what Shaw was like, the meticulous markings in his score, and his kind yet firm and exacting way of getting the very very best out of his singers. Then Joe went on to reminisce about some of the other major works he did with the choir and orchestra at this church – including King David by Arthur Honegger, the Gloria of Francis Poulenc and other complex, sophisticated scores that never in a million years would I have associated with the head of the Barbershop Society. It turns out that Joe Liles is a choral musician of the highest order who could have applied his gifts in just about any direction, but ultimately chose barbershop…..or did it choose him? (Maybe a bit a both.) But it was a very potent reminder for me that one of the most unfortunate mistakes I continue to make is carelessly sizing up what someone has to offer.
I’m reminded of a funny moment during in the TV show “Third Rock from the Sun” – in which four aliens from another planet take up residency on Earth in the disguise of ordinary human beings, in order to study us and come to better understand us…. and most of the episode end with the aliens sitting together to sort out what lessons they’ve learned. . . almost all of which involve coming to the wrong conclusion. At the end of one episode, the character of Harry is asked what he’s learned from their latest misadventure, and he replies “I learned that you CAN judge a book by its cover. Because that’s what the cover’s for – to tell you what’s inside the book.” Yes Harry, that’s sometimes right. But sometimes the book is way too complex to be adequately summarized on the cover – and when we’re talking about human beings, that’s pretty much always true. That certainly proved to be the case with the Barbershop Guy who knows a lot more about the Brahms Requiem than I do!
pictured above: Joe Liles conducting the men’s chorus in the barbershop portion of the concert. I led the same men in Kurt Bestor’s “Prayer of the Children.”