Love

I Fell In Love With An Alto

A tribute to a classic woman, a classic voice

I grew up singing in the choir. Two choirs to be exact.

My home church choir was Tabernacle Community Baptist Church where my little sister, Yvette, and I were a part of the youth choir.

Yvette and I were also members of a city-wide, traveling youth choir, Unity in the Community, that performed at church programs around the city.

Yvette was a soprano. I was a tenor.

But, I had a thing for altos.

At church, our high-spirited choir director, Ms. Bass, stood about 4'11 in height with a 7' foot high-pitched voice. I remember her voice — tinged with a rasp — and her loving smile, and her enthusiastic clap.

Choir directors will clap on you.

Our flamboyant community choir director, Rev. Saffold, was ambitious and passionate. He was well-known for his high-energy piano play and his juicy Jheri curl.

Juicy is the only way to describe his curl.

I loved sitting in choir practice and watching those choir directors dissect the sections: soprano, alto, tenor, and bass.

My first favorite gospel songs were Available to You and Center of my Joy. Both songs required each section of the choir to sing their parts independently and then come back together in exalted harmony.

Rev. Saffold would tell us to be quiet and listen as he coached the target section on their parts. He was meticulous in pointing people out who sang too soft or too strong.

“Let me hear you sopranos!” “Tenors, do it like this!” “Sing altos!”

Sing altos.

I have heard that refrain throughout my life. In fact, those are the exact words that go through my mind every time I hear a good alto.

Sing altos.

Altos are defined as persons who sing in a lower vocal range than sopranos, but higher than tenors. There are many variations on the definitions, including the term ‘contralto’, which means persons who can cover a variety of ranges.

For instance, Mariah Carey, and Adele, are all altos that can push well into a high soprano. These are contraltos.

I am not talking about them today.

I am talking about pure altos like Anita Baker, Gladys Knight, Norah Jones, Etta James, and Tina Turner.

My Alto

But, I’m not just talking about a voice. I’m talking about a kind of person.

When my wife, Shyla, and I were dating I knew her church and praise team were important. So, one day I surprised her and attended one of her rehearsals. I sat in the back of the room. I listened intently, trying to find her voice among the eight people singing.

I couldn’t find her voice.

I leaned forward in my seat with my head slightly tilted, hung onto the wooden pew in front of me, and closed my eyes. I still couldn’t find her voice. This woman literally blended into the praise.

What meaneth this?

I was enamored. This is one of the characteristics that attracted me to her most. Her willingness to be present and participate; to lead and support; to blend into the body; separate, but apart, like a rib.

Indeed, this rib bodied me.

We got married. A few years later, my sister visited us for the Christmas holiday. My sister still loved to sing.

One morning, I asked them to sing a song for my Mom: Come Ye Disconsolate by Donny Hathaway and Roberta Flack. I promised them it was perfect and that I would record it.

I returned later that day to find Shyla and Yvette prepared to sing.

They took the challenge seriously and practiced all day, between bottles of wine. Apparently, it turned out to be good bonding for them.

They sat next to each other, flanked the Christmas tree, and sang perfectly. Oddly, there were parts of the harmony where I could not tell them apart.

Sing altos!

How did Shyla blend so perfectly — even with just one other person?

(In hindsight, I wanted them to sing this song for me. Recording that session ended up being one of the most special things I’ve ever experienced for any holiday.)

A Classic Alto

My wife is a classic alto.

She sits at the epicenter of vocal ranges and my heart, carrying our melody — making the parts of our intimate choir sound whole.

She is my sturdy core. The central nervous center for the body of our love and the fullness of our voices.

A strong alto is ever-present and invisible at the same time.

Like a matriarch who holds the family together in ways you don’t fully appreciate until she is gone. We often take the altos in our lives for granted.

Not today.

My wife is a classic alto.

Altos grew up overlooked at times because they can’t do what contraltos do. But, a classic alto doesn’t want to be anyone else. She is comfortable in her more melanated voice.

An alto is to the blues what a soprano is to jazz.

Soulful, spiritual, rooted.

My alto is humble, but don’t push her. When the spirit calls, she shifts the entire energy in a room.

She might not open the show, but she is a show-stopper.

My wife is a classic alto.

She blends perfectly; with me and within me, all at once.

Sing, alto, sing!

Honestly,

Ed.

I am a poet, essayist, and civic strategist based in Birmingham, Alabama. Let’s stay connected via HonestlyEd on LinkedIn, Medium, and Instagram. Or, Buy Me A Coffee. Subscribe to receive my posts.