The One Where She Finally Just Embraced Mediocrity

I'm not a perfectionist. In most things. Okay, maybe deep down, I'm a perfectionist. But I have managed to smother that instinct 98 percent of the time. There are a few notable exceptions. I always have to have the perfect Christmas card. When I say perfect Christmas card, I mean Per. Fect. I am also always on the lookout for the perfect tablecloth (don't ask me why; some things just are what they are) and the perfect black dress (black is slimming and doggone it--it's hard to find a dress that looks really sexy while covering up most of my arms, most of my legs, and, let's face it, camouflage a few other key areas). I gave up on the perfect swimsuit a few seasons ago for obvious reasons...I mean, if I can't even find the perfect black dress...

So, music. Hmmm. Something I devote so much time to...even more than I spend on my quest for the perfect black dress. Believe me when I tell you this: I actually am not a perfectionist about music. I can't tell you how many times someone has come up to me just to say that the reason they messed up playing in church or a concert was because I was there, and they knew I was listening to them. WHAT? Are you kidding me? I wasn't even listening to you! I was thinking about donuts. Or puppies or something. Solving the problem of global warming. Yeast infections. I only looked like I was laughing. Or in pain. No, seriously, I teach eighteen piano students, at least three of whom are completely tone-deaf. When the music gets too excruciating, I just pace back and forth and imagine myself in my happy place. Honestly, my mistake tolerance is extremely high.

That said, there is the matter of my own music. I really don't like to make mistakes. Sometimes I have even been known to practice in order to lessen my likelihood of making said mistakes. A lot. And then there is the music that I write. There are two aspects to that. It is like any other kind of creative work, in that once I have finished it, sometimes I really don't like the way it turned out. There are lines that bother me, or the music isn't right. The other aspect is the recording part of it. My recording is strictly amateur, so it is most often an exercise in frustration. My ears want to hear it sound perfect, but I have not ever once had the time or the right circumstances to get the recording I really wanted. Just once, I would like to do it right!

So, I'm putting this song up for you to listen to. I love it, except for two things: The song, and the recording. It's a pretty dumb song. I threw it together in a couple of hours, and it really doesn't stand up. Not the words or the lyrics. I don't like it. And it's not a good recording. I recorded the accompaniment in California, and Rachel recorded the voice in Utah. We were never even in the same state, let alone the same room.

Why then, you might ask, am I even putting the song up here? Because I was listening to it last night, and darn, if her voice is not spectacular! I have two other recordings of her singing other songs I wrote...songs that I actually like and will eventually play for you. But they were recorded when she was about sixteen. This song was just last year, when she was twenty, and she has only gotten better better better. The girl even makes humming sound amazing. She is going to come over in a couple of months, and we are going to do some real recording. I can't wait! In the meantime, overlook the poor recording...overlook the completely mediocre song...and listen to the amazing voice of Rachel Ricchio!

And by the way, I did find this website called Alhannah.com that not only has a stunning selection of extremely modest black dresses, but an impressive array of traditional Saudi-style triple-layer burqas to complete the look (See the lovely photo above). You'll thank me later. And so the quest continues...



When I Sing

What do you see when you look at me?
Tell me, who do you want me to be?
I may stumble and fall
Seem like no one at all…
But I’m more than your eyes can see.
When I sing
There are angels beside me.
My doubts cannot find me.
I almost believe I can fly.
And I sing
So the world can’t ignore me
They may not adore me
But they’ll never again pass me by.
So I’ll sing
Then you’ll see I’m not broken
I’m everything I want to be.
Hear me sing…

Look at my face
At the end of this race
I’m your sister, your brother, your friend.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m not too tired to fight
I’ll be here till the journey’s end.
So I sing
With the angels beside me
To lift me and guide me
I close my eyes and I fly.
Yes, I sing
Now the world can’t ignore me
They praise and adore me
The ends of the earth hear my cry.
Hear me sing…
Then you’ll see I’m not broken
I’m everything I want to be.
So I’ll fly
I’ll fly
I’ll fly
Hear me sing…
Then you’ll see I’m not broken
I’m everything I wanted to be.