Now *that* was a dose of the season...
Dec. 24th, 2011 10:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coffeeteaandmeWe just got back from a caroling gig that we traveled up to Atlanta to attend. It pretty much took up the whole day. We were part of what must have been the biggest private Christmas party in Atlanta. We drove up to a mansion, parked on the street, and walked past a live Nativity - Jesus, Mary Joseph, angels, live sheep, goats, ox, shepherds, - and camels. Yes, fricking camels. Top of the drive had a fellow hooking real reindeer up to a sleigh for one of the best Santas I've ever seen. There was a circulating magician for entertainment, half a dozen videographers, and a pianist for the baby grand in the drawing room. And us. For the occasion we were not one but TWO teams of four-part carolers, to sing from 11 to 6, with a bit beyond to hang out and sing with the pianist. There were literally dozens of catering staff, at least four bar-tending stations that I recall, a guy making balloons, a table with a couple of girls baking fresh Tollhouse cookies in a handy stove for passers-by, and endlessly refreshed tables of food - one set in the courtyard for the kids, the other inside for adult guests. Of which, I may say, there were well over a hundred.
The rather nice part about this particular gig is that, unlike many large parties at which we are hired to perform,
1) there was not a single speaker spitting out canned Christmas music - we were there to provide it, not compete with inferior versions of it - and provide we did, with gusto.
2) we were not only allowed, but *invited* to partake of the food, and also the open bar (with a fair enough note from Fiona not to over-indulge).
This is something that, even above the paycheck, I value in a client. The ancient tradition of hospitality for musicians, especially carolers, is one I have held dear since before I ever performed, and paycheck aside I can't help but be put off just a bit by clients who have us stand for hours on their cold front porch to sing and welcome in the guests, but ask us 'please don't touch the food', and stare for a moment if we ask for a glass of water. The owner of the home was a tall Southern gentleman, who hosted the party with his wife dressed in matching Santa suits with white fur. His wife's version was a trim dress with a short skirt, which she wore quite handily despite having about ten years on me. (She also sported a pair of awesome red pumps with heels made of sparkling red crystals. I wanted them so much.) They greeted us carrying their Pomeranian, a sweet and gentle little creature who licked my nose when I petted her, and made me feel very friendly towards them.
In short, we could hardly have had a better place or circumstance in which to play for six hours, and if I was looking for a supersize dose of Christmas I could hardly have asked for a bigger, or more representative, example of the genre. It was a beautifully thrown party in an unbelievably large and only slightly overdecorated manse. We sang very nearly non-stop, using our usual tactic of swapping out voices when one of us got tired of singing the soprano, and as singing always does, it restored my spirits greatly. It was lovely to spend time in such a large and beautiful home, and reflect again that I'd hardly know what to do with such a place if I had it myself, and that by far the best way of enjoying it was to come to parties at it, where I got the best of the place without having to clean it(or hire anyone else to clean it), or worry about termites or thieves or careless rings left on the furniture. We finished up in high spirits and came back to RealityLand.
We're home now, tired and not nearly as throat-sore as I expected, and snuggling into a quiet night with my dear old aunt.
Night night!
The rather nice part about this particular gig is that, unlike many large parties at which we are hired to perform,
1) there was not a single speaker spitting out canned Christmas music - we were there to provide it, not compete with inferior versions of it - and provide we did, with gusto.
2) we were not only allowed, but *invited* to partake of the food, and also the open bar (with a fair enough note from Fiona not to over-indulge).
This is something that, even above the paycheck, I value in a client. The ancient tradition of hospitality for musicians, especially carolers, is one I have held dear since before I ever performed, and paycheck aside I can't help but be put off just a bit by clients who have us stand for hours on their cold front porch to sing and welcome in the guests, but ask us 'please don't touch the food', and stare for a moment if we ask for a glass of water. The owner of the home was a tall Southern gentleman, who hosted the party with his wife dressed in matching Santa suits with white fur. His wife's version was a trim dress with a short skirt, which she wore quite handily despite having about ten years on me. (She also sported a pair of awesome red pumps with heels made of sparkling red crystals. I wanted them so much.) They greeted us carrying their Pomeranian, a sweet and gentle little creature who licked my nose when I petted her, and made me feel very friendly towards them.
In short, we could hardly have had a better place or circumstance in which to play for six hours, and if I was looking for a supersize dose of Christmas I could hardly have asked for a bigger, or more representative, example of the genre. It was a beautifully thrown party in an unbelievably large and only slightly overdecorated manse. We sang very nearly non-stop, using our usual tactic of swapping out voices when one of us got tired of singing the soprano, and as singing always does, it restored my spirits greatly. It was lovely to spend time in such a large and beautiful home, and reflect again that I'd hardly know what to do with such a place if I had it myself, and that by far the best way of enjoying it was to come to parties at it, where I got the best of the place without having to clean it(or hire anyone else to clean it), or worry about termites or thieves or careless rings left on the furniture. We finished up in high spirits and came back to RealityLand.
We're home now, tired and not nearly as throat-sore as I expected, and snuggling into a quiet night with my dear old aunt.
Night night!
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