Sydney Life

If I had a recurring nightmare, it would probably start kind of like this:
The scene: a tutorial room at the Conservatorium of Music. Twenty first years sit in a circle nervously looking at the ground.

“Alright,” the solfege teacher would say, “Who can sing us a major third above B. How about… Liisa. Liisa, would you please sing it for us?”

Unfortunately for me, that recurring nightmare does not exist merely in the realms of my imagination – rather, it exists as a fifty minute solfege tutorial every Monday morning. And despite the fact that my solfege tutor looks
something like this, singing in front of twenty people is still mighty scary.

Solfege is compulsory for four semesters at the Conservatorium for all the non-jazz students. We attend a 50 minute tutorial every week, and sing intervals, short melodies, and broken chords. Older and wiser second year students assure us that by next year we won't care about singing the wrong note, or even singing at all.
" Second year solfege", they exclaim "is liberating, fulfilling and entertaining. It is a haven for all musicians, be they aspiring 'Dame Joan Sutherlands' or not. It is fifty joyous minutes filled with loud, proud mistakes and volunteers grappling for a chance to air their vocal skills. Don't be scared of solfege - the best is yet to come."

It's hard to picture this Utopian class when I'm desperately trying to remember what to call an E-flat in Solfege speak (for future reference, it's "ess") or speedily attempting to work out whether or not I should take something down an octave or risk sounding like a dying, soprano mouse. Luckily, most of the other people in my class suck at singing too, so perhaps it will be a bonding experience. Today, we timidly squawk our "Cis major scales" and giggle nervously at A-flats (pronounced "arse") but by next semester, who knows... Looking into the glazed eyes of the second year solfege students, I can believe that anything's possible!