I keep this image on the cover of my song book. It reminds me that one must anticipate a way forward or risk being blocked in a stagnant place. Sometimes, to continue the journey, one has to tear down bits of what was carefully but needlessly erected so well at the start. This philosophy proved to be very useful in the run-up to our final performance.

The 38 class members of the 2010 International Cabaret Conference at Yale were divided in to three groups of 13, 13 and 12. I was assigned, with 12 others, to Performance Group 1. Our faculty advisors were George Hall, Pamela Myers, Faith Prince, Erv Raible, and, as Music Director, Shelly Markham. Each member of the group was to sing a solo number (with or without a few back-up singers) and to write and deliver their own patter. We could also include one or more full group numbers. Group members’ ages spanned more than four decades and skill levels ran from only a few public performances of a very small number of songs to a vast catalog of material and performance experience. Although the faculty would be there on Thursday to help guide us as our show developed, on Wednesday night the initial work was all down to us.

We operated, more or less, by Robert’s Rules and elected a secretary and a moderator. Then, we each wrote down the songs from our book we would be totally comfortable singing in the Saturday show. Up-tempo numbers went on red cards; ballads were on blue; and novelty or comic pieces went on green cards. If someone had their heart set on one and only one song, they were guaranteed to sing that song. We sifted through the up-tempo numbers and made a short-list of songs that would sit best as openers. We then separated intellectually demanding ballads from non-intellectually demanding ballads (I hasten to add this distinction was made with the level of effort required from the audience in mind and is not a reflection on the intellect of the singer ;-). After hearing the titles of all the ballad and up-tempo song candidates, we went around the table and, one-by-one, put forward ideas for a theme that would provide sufficient flexibility for such a diverse group of people but sufficient cogence for a show to build from start to finish. We voted – Transitions would be our theme.

Following a guideline for show structure shared with us earlier in the week by our music directors, we then sifted through the relevantly colored card set in search of the perfect “up-tempo toe tapper’’, “non-intellectually demanding standard ballad” or “palate cleanser”. The process was somewhat iterative as we tried to anchor an opener and the ‘’11 o’clock ’’ (climax) number and see what would fill in the middle to flesh out the concept. Of 14 songs (13 solos and a group finale), I was put in the #9 spot with I Want to Be Bad. It wasn’t going to be a show stopper, but I knew the lyrics and the notes and, in a still rather shell-shocked state, I was content to be hiding in plain view between two big numbers at #8 and #10.

We finished the entire process in about three hours. Everyone was singing a song they were both comfortable with and happy to sing. The complete absence of the faintest whiff of “diva” was wonderfully refreshing. Everyone was flexible, generous and supportive. The next morning, we’d have three hours to run the numbers with our faculty advisors and begin to concentrate on the patter that would bind the act together.

We would not find out which of the three groups would go first until late in the day on Saturday. I was hoping ours would be first, so I could relax and enjoy the others. If it hadn't been for the friends whom, in headier days, I'd rashly invited to come to the performance, I'd have called GT and insisted he stay at home in Chicago, eschewing the pleasures of a 14 hour drive to what I was almost certain would be a non-eventful performance of less than two minutes. I'd fly back on Sunday and conveniently forget to order the video. I turned in for the, by now, customary 5 1/2 hours of sleep completely oblivious to the plans Euterpe held in store for me.