In the middle of the Sunday night telecast, deceptively dressed as a pedestrian advertisement, was my Grammy moment.
Earlier, there had been flashy dance numbers from Bruno Mars and Katy Perry, solemn and heartfelt tributes to Whitney and Etta; a sweeping string section with Paul McCartney, and Adele’s triumphant comeback performance of “Rolling In the Deep”.
Then, with no fanfare, a simple shot of a girl on a bus with headphones on. She starts effortlessly singing the song that Adele just received a standing ovation and multiple awards for – as natural as kids do when a song they love comes on the playlist or the radio, or when we are in the shower or in the car, and we think no one is listening. Then came the build into the chorus, and the rest of the bus – young girls as well – sing the backup counter harmonies complete with mini dance moves.
It was a Target commercial, cute, yes, and I am sure staged and directed, but in less than a minute it conveyed more about celebration of music than the multimillion dollar, somewhat autotuned party it crashed.
The music business is far from innocent and romantic, but my own entry into it was probably similar to these girls – only my iPod was a red plastic transistor radio. The soloist in the Target spot is featured in the P.S. 22 choir whose cover version of the Adele song was originally shown in this video:
Come on now. That rocks.
School and church choir along with mandatory piano lessons at an early age (thanks Mom!) laid my own musical foundation and stoked my curiosity and enthusiasm. Once shown that the sounds that excited me as a tot could be created by my own voice and hands…then, encouragement from a teacher that I could create my own composition with my own melody and words, and that the school choir could perform it in concert…as a child, nothing could blow my mind further open.
In high school it was easy to find co-conspirators. Before the days of flash mobs, a few girlfriends and I discovered which parts of the school building resonated best, and we would belt out our vocal ensemble parts unexpectedly between classes while walking down the stairwell, or in selected corridors where the high ceilings and wood floors were conducive to carrying our gorgeous (well we thought anyway) reverberating stacked intervals across that section of the school – impromptu serenade blasts for our classmates rushing to the next period. Giggle!
That TV minute with the girls on the bus took me back to those days of blind music love and innocence. The critic in me that, left unchecked, has the tendency to want to tweet catty remarks about some rock star’s performance that night, call them on being pitchy, ask wtf are they wearing, or ask why are they the ones on TV right now – was silenced. I had to laugh when superstars Dave Grohl and Blake Shelton could each be seen during the broadcast with wide grins, singing loudly and bobbing their heads with nerdy, boyish abandon alongside their heroes, Paul McCartney and Glen Campbell, even though they were off mic – lovestruck again by those songs from their youth.
Any one of the Grammy performers had been that kid on the bus at some time and – darn it – yes, despite my personal tastes in music, I can respect and celebrate every one of those artists for getting to that stage. Each one of them is there partially because of that initial, innocent love – whether their current work reflects it or not, they have known the joy of a song that awakens them, carries them through whatever obstacles arise to releasing that record and getting people to listen. The choir director at PS 22 and any music educator around the country may share this feeling as well – so moved by a love of music and commitment to teaching that despite being grossly underfunded, they can achieve this level of participation with a large group of kids.
I hope that girl on the bus keeps singing whether she enters the business or not. While it is an opportunity that is sadly diminished with the shrinking of arts funding in the United States, I still hope that any kid who wants it can find some kind of guidance – in or out of school – to develop their talent as far as they and their courage want to take it – maybe even answering the call to share that gift with the next generation, or an older one. I thank this young singer and her friends and classmates for the perpetual valentine of eternal youth, and for reminding me that I can feel that innocent joy anytime – free of charge, conditions or special effects.
