What I learned when the power went out at church

We can't sing a cappella worth a durn. That takes specific practice, some talent, and passing familiarity with a pitch pipe.


"Make a joyful noise" is kind of a dodge. We're Methodists, for Pete's sake. It's more like: make an obligatory and self-conscious noise if you have to.


Probably ought to keep the old upright piano somewhere in the sanctuary, instead of down in the fellowship hall, where it hardly ever gets used anyway.


But if we used an acoustic piano, we'd have to stick to the written key, and that would be a problem.


We really ought to get a choir director who knows what he's doing. This poor dude signed up as "interim" director and he's starting to get surly at their lack of effort to find somebody.


The stained glass windows illuminate the pews some, but the choir loft is still too dark to see those tiny little words in the hymnbooks very well.


I probably ought to at least try to memorize some of these lyrics.


The lead soprano should lead the singing. The others should key off her, not the choir director. The director ought to shut his pie-hole and swing his arms to keep time.


Nobody looks at the director anyway. They all look at their hymnbooks and listen to the piano player for the tempo. Without the piano player keeping tempo, everybody slows down so much it sounds like we're singing through molasses. And there weren't a durn thang I could do about it.


I am not a choir director, even with the lights on. I sho'nuff ain't one in a blackout.



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