Sing Then
Reflecting on the connecting through song
Hundreds of us wait in a queue. It winds around a huge room in the conference center, speckled white tile under our feet. There’s music playing on speakers while we wait. I’m wearing a tshirt that pairs a piranha plant from the Mario video games with a phrase from painting by a Magritte: “Ceci n’est pa une pipe”—”This is not a pipe.” With it, I declare myself as a particular kind of nerd, one who loves both video games and art.
There aren’t a lot of femme people here. At the time, I felt proud of that—what a cool girl I am, to like things that guys like! You’ve probably noticed that I neither think nor talk like that anymore. Video games are for everyone; F that noise.
But the proliferation of masc people in the room made what happened feel next especially magical. As the queue starts to move, a song we all know comes on. The musician we’re waiting to see, Johnathan Coulton wrote it. And it’s the closing theme to a very popular game that came out the year before.
To my surprise—the room begins to sing.
Aperture Science We do what we must because we can For the good of all of us, except the ones who are dead
Despite the dark humor of the lyrics, the song is pretty. It’s a ballad. And hundreds of men and a few dozen women are singing it together. I’m walking through a room filled with nerds, and we are joining our voices in song.
It was so unexpected. It was so joyful. My heart lights up every time I tell the story.
Song brings us together. I think of it as one of our most ancient and persisting ways to connect. When I sing, I feel my voice vibrating my chest and throat and nose. I feel my breath move in and out. And I feel the people around me, wholly present together.
Finding joyful, community song as a white person in America is tricky. If you don’t go to a church, the only times we sing together are at birthday parties, on road trips, and maybe during the winter holidays.
That’s how I have found myself joining a choir for the first time last January, and continuing in a different choir this spring.
I sing with a hundred and forty people every week, directed by a person who shares joy and passion for singing together with us. The first week, he had us write a single word on our name tags that expressed why we sing. Mine came to mind immediately: community.
I have a part now—alto—and I love singing it. While some bemoan that we rarely get to sing melody, I delight when we sing the same note several times in a row. I love hearing how our one note feels and sounds different as the notes change around us.
Next Friday, I’m singing in my first concert with the choir. I admit that at first, I found the theme to be cheesy and bit obvious: the power of song. But as I started to learn the songs and mull the lyrics, I began to realize just how beautiful it is to celebrate song today. In one song, we sing:
When the seams burst And the traps ensnare And your body breaks When the light flees Sing then Sing then! For then your soul is song
It reminds us the solace we can find in song, if we let ourselves. (Belief in a soul is optional.)
I felt the power of song vicariously last month, when Minnesotans sang outside a hotel where ICE agents slept.
It’s ok to change your mind Show us your courage Leave this behind Ohhh oh oh It’s ok to change your mind And you can join us Join us here anytime
I get chills thinking of it: these beautiful humans practicing the generosity of inviting others in, recognizing the humanity even of people who dehumanize others. These folks were using their privilege to raise their voices in protest and love. Since then, the song has spread to other cities’ protests, joining us across the nation in our wish for a kinder world.
Song brings us together. It can expresses our woe, and it can fill us with the vibration of hope. It is ancient and powerful and beautiful.
So, whether it’s by yourself in a car or with folks you know—and whether you think you’re any good or not—I hope you’ll find some song today.
Mentioned in this issue: “Still Alive” by Jonathan Colton; “Your Soul is Song” by Jake Runestad; “Because You Sang” Wash U Choirs concert on Friday, March 27 at 6:00pm CT (I hear it will be streaming!); and “It’s Okay to Change Your Mind” by Annie Schlaefer.