I just finished reading a chapter that talks about his years of vocal decline brought on by a spell of hepatitis he contracted from a non sterilized needle from Vitamin B shots. The chapter is titled "The Fragile Voice."
This has made me think upon all the great singers that I've listened to and loved for many years. Some of the instruments have stood against the test of time, but they are few are far between. The majority of people have had their careers either cut short or their instrument has slowly diminished and disappeared.
The human voice is fragile. It's fleeting.
And as one does when they think about the fragility of one thing, it generally blooms into the thoughts of the world as a whole. And how a person is just a blink in the context of everything in the universe. This is a big, scary thought. One that can paralyze you.
This makes the music that we create much more special. The notes we sing may be our last. George London was a perfectionist through and through and the mere thought of him appearing not at the high standard he had created for himself all of his years of training and practice wounded him deeply. He gave everything to every show her performed. All of his heart, soul, and voice. And, although he maintained his health and his instrument, even he fell victim to the cruelty of fate and time.
So, although on one hand this thought scares me, that a career so amazing could be ended to quickly and sadly, it reaffirms my ideas about the beauty of live performance. And it affirms the need to document everything. Because even though we never shared time on earth together, George London has been an immense part of my vocal life.
In another thought....
One of my favorite videos right now is this excerpt from Soliloquy featuring Stephen Pasquale. He sings for his life.
Is he pushing? Probably. Check out those neck veins. But, with this he's creating a moment. And in this moment lives immortality. This, this is what I desire in my performances.
Until Next Time,
Lift Big, Sing Big, and Look Great Doing It.
The Opera Bro