Today, on a whim, I popped in a recording of the Carmina Burana, and was reminded of how wonderful (some) of the music is.
Back when I was just a baby cow, a calf even, in my days as a professional chorister with a fairly well-known symphony, this was one of the first major works I ever sang, and I recall just how much fun singing it was. (Granted, there were movements that I disliked even then and still do, but the majority of the piece was amazing.)
The huge BOOM that starts the piece, getting to wail your lungs out, railing against fate, then later, singing the beauty of love -- there's very little music in the world that is just so satisfying to perform.
And, I must admit, it reminds of the days when singing was just pure joy. No stress about who is in the audience, no worrying about this high note, or that pitch...just singing innocently for sheer joy and love. I love what I do, truly, but sometimes, like today, I remember how wonderful and unencumbered singing was back then, and I wish I could get that back.
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