In Rememberance: A day with the YCA

July 8, 2006

Writer Ed Dorsch of University of Oregon Communications experiences the music and emotions of the YCA's final day of the '06 year.

By Ed Dorsch

Hugs backstage after the concert

9:15 a.m. Hult Center Studio One

A big day comes into focus, students warming up in a dance studio backstage at the Hult Center. They are restless, but still waking up. It's been a long week.

"Rise up, my dears," says movement teacher Therees Hibbard. "Tonight you will be showing yourselves-on the squeakiest risers ever."

They walk, swinging their arms back and forth in unison. "Here we go. Now be still. Be still on the outside. Long necks. Beautiful faces."

A counselor interrupts: "You've got two and a half minutes to go to the bathroom."

Richard Clark lines them up for dress rehearsal and a press conference. "When you are on stage," he tells them, "No comments. There is media here today. TV. It's a huge load you have to carry. Be cool. Be smart. And, as eight other YCAs have done, you'll be spectacular tonight."

10:30 a.m. Dress Rehearsal

Students line up on stage, facing a colossal, empty concert hall. Anton Armstrong is waiting at the podium. He owns the room. The students are his instrument as he leads them through Veni Sancte Spiritus, coaxing out a crescendo with his cupped hand.

"To be a musician," he tells them, "you have to trust. I love you. Just trust me."

"You must not rush!" He pauses, looks around. "It's been a long morning, I know," says Armstrong. He bounces on the podium, shaking his arms. "Shake it baby, shake it. Shake it out." They laugh.

7:15 p.m. Pre-concert Warmup

The room is electric. Ironically, now that they are dressed up, the students look more like kids than they did in their jeans and flip-flops.

"Strong bodies," says Hibbard. "Strong minds. Warm hearts. Soft knees tonight. We don't want anybody going off the risers." She leads them in a row of back rubs.

Then Armstrong warms them up, playing the piano. It's the eleventh hour, and he is polishing the music down to the syllable. "A little more 'P,' a little less 'H' from the tenors."

"Go out there tonight," he says, "not to impress these people but to give them the best that you are. Music is a means of grace. A way that you reach back into the world and create change. It's not bad to work hard, is it? Take what you got in here and let it feed you. Be righteous people. Let your music lead you. Let your creativity lead you." He turns to Richard Clark and says "They're all yours."

8:00 p.m. Concert

Backstage, Clark lines the students up in rows. They break into a spontaneous, rhythmic "shh shh." Armstrong walks past them in a sharp black suit.

"The man, the legend, Dr. Armstrong," a student jokes.

"Does anyone have a cell phone in their pocket?" says Clark. "Make sure it's off."

"Oh my God," says a girl. "I'm going to faint."

The students pour into the risers to an applauding crowd.

During the show, I sit backstage and review my notes. The sound is muffled, and there's not much I can see. Just as well - I still have a lot of work to do.

Toward the end of the concert, I pause to take a break and explore backstage. I find a solitary opening where the voices flood in. Standing just a few feet from the choir, I am inside a bubble of sound as the students sing the most mournful piece of their performance: Jeffrey Ames' In Remembrance. I soak it in, brushing a tear from my cheek.