(another old article. It was supposed to be published but I'm not sure it ever was, so here it is.)
I occupy a strange position not exactly inside and not exactly outside the a cappella "scene." I discovered the art of vocal music when I became a Nylons fan in '89; later I was an early subscriber to the CAN (Contemporary A Cappella Newsletter) and listened religiously to KDHX's "Lotsa A Cappella" program. But I've never sung in a group, collegiate or otherwise, and my CD collection is hardly a completist's. I haven't even been to an a cappella concert in years.
So I was surprised by how at home I felt at the recent East Coast A Cappella Summit at Boston University. Folk here were speaking my language. It reminded me of what drew me to a cappella in the first place.
What is this music's power? It is something so elemental that perhaps it can never be fully quantified. I remember a few years back I was in a foreign city and happened in on coffee and donuts after a church service. As I sat and ate a man next to me sang a scrap of hymn, presumably to practice. Then a woman next to him joined in with a harmony, and just that quickly I felt that old elemental power again, the same as I've felt hearing Pieces of 8 or singing Linda Thompson duets with a friend.
The people attending and running the Summit all had experienced that wild energy created by harmony. Friday night at the Mouth of the Charles concert, I heard stories from past members of collegiate groups. They reminisced about parties after their own shows, climbing out to apartment balconies, singing at full voice into the night. At the showcase in the lunch hour of Saturday's seminars, when different groups performed songs by Journey and the Ladies of the Moulin Rouge and their own compositions, folk at the merchandise tables boogied to the beat. They wore smiles that showed they were lost in the music.
That said, it is always possible for enthusiasm to be lost. Part of a cappella's initial appeal is how startling it is to hear only voices when you expect instruments. Once the shock wears off and you've heard many, many performances, it may take more and more to impress you; you might even become jaded about the very thing you once loved. That is why I was somewhat glad to be an "outsider"; I heard everything with fresher ears. I was as charmed by the enthusiasm and nerve of the up and coming groups I heard as I was by the skill and proficiency of the established groups.
But I am not a true outsider, as I have explained. For that perspective, I relied on the testimony of friends who came with me to the Saturday night concert featuring So Rare!, La Bande Magnetik and Five O'Clock Shadow. They had never atteneded an a cappella show. They were knocked out by what they heard. (I could go on and on about all the performances and how my friends reacted to them, but I must mention one in particular--"Pomper," an ode to pushups, rapped in French with manic gestures and much crowd participation. The joyful absurdity of it all had us in hysterics.) When we got home my friends insisted I compile a list of recommended a cappella albums and groups to watch out for. They could talk of nothing but seeing another show like that, and soon.
That's what a cappella does to people. That's what the East Coast A Cappella Summit did for me.