If you saw the tag at the end of the last wedding blog, you may have wondered what was coming. I am wondering as well, but I know this particular syndrome very well: the bride-to-be is expecting perfection.
She has a right, of course, to make sure that she is getting what she pays for, but this can go into the realm of making one's hair turn gray.
Singing at a wedding (No, not a Adam Sandler Wedding Singer) is sui generis; that is, it is a creature unto itself. It is as easy and light as morning fog or a beast with claws. Mostly a beast.
When we were hired, the deal breaker was that I would sing a song. She only heard us instrumentally. While interrogating my musical partner, she asked about my abilities.
"Well, he was a choir director for many years." (until he was unceremoniously shit canned)
"Do you think I should contact them and ask about how well he sings?"
Evidently, she did not see the overwhelming irony in her inquiry, but continued on when she called me:
"Are you singing anywhere I can come and hear you?"
"No. I did quite a bit of that in the '90s. That was when I was in a band and performed regularly."
"Do you have any CDs?" (No. The swinging song stylings of Johnny Velvet will not be out soon.)
"No. Never did get around to making a CD." (File that under big regret. Thanks for reminding me.)
That was a few weeks ago, but I knew that this would not be over. Not by a long shot.
I am to sing the song to her
over the phone.
To quote the man: good grief!