I entered a Vocal competition! It’s run by the Center for Contemporary Opera in La Grande Pomme (New York, you hillbillies), and was pretty easy to enter, due to the power of modern technology. Long gone are the days when you had to sing in front of a bunch of people to audition for something. Now they only do that when they intend to have mediocre has-beens make fun of you and put you on TV. For this audition, all I had to do was make a CD of songs fitting certain requirements, fill out a form, and send it all in with a check for forty smackers (ow).

Making the CD was a bit of a trial because I only had a few weeks to get it done. Adding to the complexity was the fact that their song requirements were rather stringent:

• Two songs from the standard repertory
• Two arias written after 1950, at least one of which is in English
• Three 20th or 21st century songs, at least one of which is in English

Finding that stuff was a challenge, since most of my vocal music is in foreign tongues. So I had to spend a lot of time at the library, going through scores and photocopying tunes, until I found 7 pieces that would suit. (Even so, I ended up replacing one of them.)

So then I rolled up on my parents’ phatty criznib and with the able assistance of my father (who, despite having torn a muscle in his right calf, can still play the piano similarly to how you or I might ring a bell), laid down mad trackz, doggle, onto my homewok Jill‘s extremely rad DAT playa.

Then it was home to begin the horrifically painful process of listening to multiple recordings of myself and figure out which is the “best,” which is a lot like choosing between being shot and being stabbed. Throw a little reverb on, remove the dog barking in the background, and I give you:

Songs In The Key of RIGHTEOUS
Matt Hearn

Two arias from the Standard Repertoire:

• Quia fecit mihi magna, from Magnificat by J. S. Bach, aka “MC BaroQ.” This is actually not one I got from the library, but Dad and I decided to throw it in ’cause I knew it already, having learneded it for auditions back in high school, which admittedly was 10 years ago, thanks for making us feel old. (Punk.)
• Papageno’s Aria from The Magic Flute. It’s a little long, but it’s worth it, mostly because the piano part is bitchin’ hard and Pops nailed it like he was putting up siding.

Two arias written after 1950:

• Little Elegy, by Ned Rorem. Short, sweet, and not too weird, for Rorem. (Listening to him is a lot like drinking bongwater and then hanging out at a construction site.)
• One Hand, One Heart, an old favorite by Leonard Bernstein. From West Side Story. I’m sure even YOU have heard this one, you uneducated riff-raff. How did you get in here, anyway? Shoo!

Three 20th century songs:

• When I Am Dead My Dearest, by John Ireland. Yes, it’s as depressing as it sounds. Pretty rad, though, and the piano part is easy enough that even I can play it. (I am not a very good pianist.)
• On A Quiet Conscience, by Paul Bowles. It’s mad weird, but extremely enjoyable. Not too long, either, so you can put up with the strange tones coming from your cheap headphones for a while, and dream of kings and starlets and fire.
• O Mistress Mine, by Roger Quilter, words from Shakespeare. This is a personal fave of mine, and as such of course I don’t think I sound very grood on it. Still, worth a listen.

So I threw all that crap on a CD and sent it off on Saturday. According to the US Postal Service, ’twas delivered on Monday afternoon. I wonder if anyone’s listened to it yet and wept bitterly.

Ah, the weekend. RAMBLE ON:

• We played our second doubleheader of softball love on Friday, and get this, WE WON A GAME. It was unbelievable. I still can’t believe it, although I can definitely FEEL it. I haven’t been able to walk for 3 days. Every part of my body hurts. Obviously this means I plan to go on a lengthy bike ride this evening, and possibly go to the batting cages. Am I a glutton for punishment, or am I just stupid? Only time will tell.
• Funny line from the weekend, as reported by my mother: apparently our friend Evelyn took her old cat to the vet, and the vet reported sadly, “I’m sorry . . . your cat has Feline AIDS.” To which Evelyn replied, “Wow! I didn’t even know he was gay!”

  Apparently the vet did not find this amusing, but on hearing about it, I definitely peed my pants a little bit.

• I spent Saturday during the day hanging at my parents’ place, recording some tracks with my dad so I can burn a CD of myself to send to a vocal competition in NYC. Hopefully tonight I’ll get the tunes moved onto my computer, and I can start putting it all on CDs and posting mp3s and things for y’all to listen to. I should mention that most of it is pretty damned AWESOME, if you ask my subtle opinion. Mostly because my father can play anything you put in front of him. The punk. Even with a tore-up leg.
• Speaking of which, I’m not sure I mentioned last week that my father managed to tear a calf muscle playing softball with us. He’s now hobbling around like a gimp, which is greatly amusing to me. He has crutches; I’m not sure why he doesn’t use them. Probably the same reason that I didn’t use them when I tore up my ankle: they’re lame and omnipresent. Everywhere you wanna sit down, you have to find a place to sit them. Totally craptastic.
• So now I’m basically off my low-carb diet, having gotten down to 225 or so (which sounds pretty fat, until you realize that I’m merely just phat). I’m hoping that frequent bike rides and a summer of softball-playing will keep me in fighting trim. As a result, I’ve taken to eating cereal in the morning again, and let me tell you: the awesomeness of cereal can not be overestimated. I’ve missed it so much. ::sniff::

RAMBLE OFF.

It is really annoying to lose a bunch of weight, and buy new pants to fit your slimm’d-down waist, only to discover too late that despite having lost inches around the middle, you haven’t reduced the size of certain other things.

Wait, did I say annoying? I meant TOTALLY AWESOME.

That is all.

I was unaware of this yesterday, or it would have been posted with the other URLs. I don’t really have words to describe it, so I’ll just bring you: Great. White. Hype.

Many of you have been contacting me to ask, “Hey Matt, I also would like to wear my collar in the popped style that is so popular with the young kids these days. My problem is, it makes me a little nervous, and I’m wondering if there are situations in which the popped collar might not be appropriate. I work in a conservative environment, you see.”

Good news, folks: the popped collar is appropriate for almost any situation you can think of. Some of the few exceptions include, of course, funerals:

And it goes without saying that the other attendees at any Papal funeral would probably frown on you a bit:

You might not think that going to work with your collar stylishly popped would be a good idea, but then you’d be wrong. Here you can see me in a meeting with my managers, collar higher than a pothead’s ears:

If you work in a more technical environment, such as, say, space shuttle commander, you’ll find the popped collar particularly appropriate:

Even better, the popped collar is hell of proper to display at any formal event, such as your senior prom:

And is even a nice idea for any pool party:

Last but not least, it goes without saying that the popped collar is an absolute requirement whenever you find yourself playing the role of Peter Allen in “The Boy From Oz:”

In conclusion: always keep that collar popped, and watch as your peers and colleagues look at you in wonder and awe renewed.