Singing brings us together and sets us apart. It unites us in faith at church, breaks the ice at parties. It turns us into the star of the show at the corner bar on Saturday night. And these days, it’s hard to drown out the voices. Credit technology, blame “American Idol,” or thank the wireless microphones of video games like “Rock Band” — singing has gone communal. From town halls to college campuses, karaoke lounges to neighbors’ living rooms, people are connecting through song. This is what singing looks and sounds like during the span of one week in Denver.
Armida’s, Wednesday, April 15
Scalpels? Yes. Stethoscopes? Of course. But doctors don’t do quite so well with microphones.
No one told this to Marea Snell. She came to Armida’s to get acquainted with fellow physicians attending a Centers for Disease Control and Prevention conference, and karaoke was the first order of business. Armida’s features it every night and has practically since Armida and Fausto Corral bought the Capitol Hill Mexican eatery in the 1990s.
“We looked up ‘Denver karaoke’ online and this place had four out of five stars,” said Snell, visiting from St. Louis. Indeed, Armida’s is karaoke central here now. “Even the waitress at our last restaurant told us to come here.”
One by one her table empties, the bespectacled docs in collared shirts and slacks climbing onto the broad, shallow stage. They sing “Proud Mary” and “Love Shack” while colored lights flash. They sound terrible. They laugh it off and keep going.
It’s only 9 p.m., but the dim, humid bar is already hopping. Cowboys, dudes in baseball caps and girls in tight shirts whoop approval while hoisting tall mugs of beer. Karaoke DJ Disian Washington, a 14-year veteran, smiles and shakes his head when especially high notes are hit — or missed.
He appreciates it all.
Armida’s is popular because it’s a warm, welcoming, alcohol-fueled pool that practically anyone can dive into.
Even doctors.
Mosaic Youth Chorus, Thursday, April 16
It’s not like George Holland needs anything else to do. The senior at Arvada West High School is already busy with his school’s chorus and color guard. But for more than a year now, Holland, a sharp yet relaxed 18-year-old with spiky hair, has made a point to rehearse and perform with the Mosaic Youth Chorus — as often as possible.
“When I go off to college, I’m going to be in Sterling, so I really can’t make it every time,” he said with a note of regret.
Mosaic is more than a singing group. It offers a sense of belonging and camaraderie to nearly two dozen gay and lesbian kids ages 14 to 20 — kids sometimes ostracized by other kids or their families. It’s unique in the region and one of fewer than 10 in the country.
Launched in August 2007, the chorus takes a variety of songs, including civil rights-themed tunes like “Hymn to Freedom” and U2’s “MLK,” to nursing homes and schools under the direction of Kendall Bridges. Beyond performances, the choir creates a safe place for kids to drop in and hang out.
“We’ve had kids that just come to rehearsal to stay out of trouble,” said Will Adams, executive director of the Rocky Mountain Arts Association, Mosaic’s parent group. “One kid’s dad told him that he would rather his kid go back to walking the 16th Street Mall doing drugs than sing in this ‘fag chorus,’ so that’s kind of what we’ve been dealing with.”
Nonetheless, the choir has garnered national attention and inspired others to form similar groups. “It was amazing how well-received they were at their first show,” Adams said, surveying the kids as they ate cold-cut sandwiches and downed orange drink at Christ Church United Methodist on Colorado Boulevard. “We’re celebrating music, but there’s also real heavy emphasis on taking care of our kids.”
Indeed, as they finish their prerehearsal meals, the kids act like any teens, sharing iPod earbuds and talking smack about their favorite celebrities. As “Uncle Will” walks by and the kids casually praise him, it’s clear they are starting to find their voices.
Ship Tavern, Friday, April 17
It’s a miserable night downtown, slush and fat flakes of snow turning the streets into a sloppy gray mess.
You wouldn’t know it inside the Ship Tavern at the Brown Palace. The blue-and- white-checkered tables are three-quarters full with smiling, red-cheeked patrons, and everyone is facing the piano in the corner.
John Kite, dressed all in black, is at the keys. He’s hosted piano nights here for nearly 20 years, playing cocktail hours and at high tea during the week. Singalongs like this were supposed to fade in these high-tech times and here he is — still.
Friday nights are special. A cast of regulars — mostly middle-aged men in sweaters and button-down shirts — belt show tunes and opera. Songs from “Les Miserables” and “My Fair Lady” join “New York, New York” and “Good Night, Sweetheart.”
The jovial, classy mood in the 75-year-old hotel bar has as much to do with with its storied history as the tone the piano player sets.
“I’ve always admired a pianist that finds the strengths in the people sitting around him,” Kite said. “It’s bedside manner with a twist, being able to read people. ”
Chautauqua Park, Saturday, April 18
“Grease” is still the word. The much-loved/hated musical has never really left the pop-culture consciousness since its 1978 release.
It makes sense, then, that the Colorado Chautauqua Association decided to show a singalong version at its Community House in Boulder. All 125 seats sold out as soon as the doors opened, with ‘tween girls and their parents streaming through in the occasional poodle skirt and giant headband adorned with pink bows.
“I’m going to sing a lot — if my daughter will let me,” joked mom Julie Murphy. Her daughter, Kyra, responded with a roll of the eyes.
“I’m dressed up like Sandy,” said friend Abby Oclassen, clad in her grandmother Linda’s vintage black 1955 skirt.
The audience sways and claps to “Summer Nights” and “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee.” The singing is tentative at first, but soon everyone’s gushing, the music washing into a bubbly wall of melody that would make Danny Zuko and Sandy Olsen proud.
Macedonia Baptist Church, Sunday, April 19
Sunday morning arrives on a warm sheet of sunlight, which streams in all directions through the orange and blue stained glass at Macedonia Baptist Church. The long brick building at Martin Luther King Boulevard and Adams Street is an ebullient place, an African-American house of worship with people dressed to the nines and bear hugs all around.
The congregation bellows out “Amens!” and “Hallelujahs!” to the preacher as soft organ notes underscore his words. A choir erupts and people sing and dance with a passion rarely seen in more staid Christian churches.
From the first song of the service, an elderly man in the third row rises to begin gyrating and vocalizing, “I’m so glad Jesus lifted me!”
The choir, immaculate in gold and brown robes, is backed by a drummer and organ player. Chimes and bells augment their honeyed notes.
Survey data show that women and African-Americans are more likely to take part in singing groups than others, and that certainly bears out at Macedonia. Music permeates and reinforces every moment. “Yield Not to Temptation” is a soulful hymn of worship, the congregation members holding red lyric books to their chests. After the sermon they intone “Come to Jesus” and close with “God Be With You.”
Even when pastor Willard C. Johnson praises the sunny break in the weather, the scattered “uh-huhs” he receives sound melodious. Amen.
Arapahoe Concert Chorale and Arapahoe Community College Choir, Monday, April 20
“Sell the song!” Ron Kientz yells. “People want to see your beautiful face! Be clear and crisp! Visualize being in the Sistine Chapel!”
Kientz hardly ever looks at his piano accompanist as he directs his chorus. The two men read each other’s minds.
It’s no surprise: the accompanist is Kientz’s son and namesake. Kientz’s wife of 48 years and his daughter also sing in this chorale, and two of Kientz’s sons sing in his Prestige Barbershop Quartet, which has appeared before a Colorado Rockies game every year since 1993.
Kientz, a retired banker who got his music degree at age 62, is leading the singers through a program of sacred and secular songs. Tongue-twisting vocal exercises (try singing “Hospodi Pomilui” 20 times fast) and modest choreography bookend the session, with stops along the way at Wagner, Handel and Paul Simon.
The singers range from teens to retirees. Harmonies twist like vines through the piano notes as the college’s bespectacled music head, Hidemi Matsushita, sits on the steps of the Waring Theater, smiling, occasionally giggling.
“They sound great now, but you should have heard them 12 weeks ago,” Kientz said wryly, implying that we really shouldn’t have.
Cherry Creek Chorale, Tuesday, April 21
Mahler’s Symphony No. 8 is an exhausting, unrelenting behemoth. Also known as the “symphony of a thousand,” it’s written for eight soloists and multiple choirs. And despite the fact that it’s the hardest thing Cherry Creek Chorale has ever attempted, chorale members are flying through it.
“It’s a tremendous stress reliever,” said Felice Morel, whose husband and son also sing with CCC. “I’m exhausted when I come home, but I come here and it energizes me.”
The chorus is assembled in a pink-and-white tiled hall in the back of Bethany Lutheran Church on East Hampden Avenue. Associate conductor Greg Marsch directs from a podium with a headset mike and pencil while artistic director Brian Leatherman pores over the sheet music, his iPod blaring orchestral accompaniment.
Pat Klass agrees with Morel, whom she met in the early ’80s through another choral group. “When you’re really stressed out, you come and do this and it’s a release,” she said. “It’s like doing yoga — it takes your mind totally to another place.”
If that’s the case, the CCC will be on another planet when it performs at Boulder’s MahlerFest next month. The megachorus will include the CCC, the Larimer Chorale, the Colorado Children’s Chorale and a full orchestra.
Talk about strength in numbers.
John Wenzel: 303-954-1642 or jwenzel@denverpost.com
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