As a young man, I sang in my high school choir, a college quartet and took voice lessons. Who could predict? Maybe some day I would be a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
That's why I was elated to learn that a "Priesthood Choir" would be organized to sing at LDS General Conference in April. I had to send in an audition tape — singing a cappella. It was a lark.
Fortunately, my wife is very musical, so she helped me make the tape, and I sent it in and forgot about it.
The astounding news is that, a few weeks later, I was invited to join the choir as a bass and informed of four intensive rehearsals. In the mail, I received copies of the three songs we would perform, all brilliantly arranged by Mack Wilberg, associate director of the Tabernacle Choir. So, on three Wednesday nights and one Saturday afternoon, I went to the Tabernacle, and then the new LDS Conference Center, to sing with 200 men under the direction of Tabernacle Choir director Craig Jessop and Wilberg.
On Saturday evening, we were joined by the approximately 200 men of the Tabernacle Choir.
From the first rehearsal, the enthusiasm of the singers was palpable.
Wilberg is an extremely versatile man who worked us very hard but never failed to compliment us. Under his direction, we learned two numbers, while Jessop took over for the last one. Wearing a tiny head microphone, Wilberg stood at the piano, using one hand to play chords and the other to lead, all the while giving us a steady stream of voice directions.
The sensitivity of his ear is amazing. Often, he encouraged the basses to sing high — "into your head voices."
Occasionally, he imitated our collective sound, pausing to ask, "Now, is that a pleasant sound?" He fretted over intonation, pitch, rhythm and pronunciation. On common words like "prophet" or "tyrant" in the hymn "Praise to the Man," he insisted they should be sung as they would be spoken.
He often berated us for failing to look at him, but he always followed up with gentle wit: "You ought to know those first two lines pretty well by now. You could afford to look at me."
Wilberg was insistent that we begin "Praise to the Man" with a sweet, soft touch, starting with first tenors, then basses, then the two groups joining for a moving crescendo.
"There's nothing like a men's chorus," he said, "if it is on pitch."
We worked and worked. And on the last day, Wilberg slipped us the ultimate compliment: "I want you to know, as much as I've criticized you, you just may be the best men's chorus ever!"
Jessop was a jauntier personality, quick with one-liners and jokes of self-deprecation. As he pointed to the air with one finger, he explained, "The Tabernacle Choir is tired of seeing it. They call it the 'JESS-TURE,' but they know it means 'sing high,' not flat."
Jessop directed with his entire body, while making corresponding pro or con facial expressions. He had the innate ability to get us to like him so much that we could not help but sing our hearts out. When we were obliged to hold one note interminably, he could tell several of us were running out of breath, then jumping back in.
"If you drop out, do not come back in!" he instructed. But the note almost disappeared. "I changed my mind. If you drop out, come back in!"
We practiced standing up and uniformly holding our music folders only during the last practice, and it worked perfectly. By then, we had such esprit de corps that we were unerringly alert. By the time of performance, we were on fire.
Jessop had one last warning: "There is a TV monitor there. Whatever you do — while we are singing — do not look at yourselves!"
We obeyed. We sang with fortitude, assurance, softly when required and guarding against "over-singing." The music set an unforgettable tone, one that is likely to stay with me for a long time, thanks to truly gifted conductors.
You can reach Dennis Lythgoe by e-mail at dennis@desnews.com