| He's Able: They Live On |
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As
a child I always loved to sing. Our family was musical. When we were young, my
sister Michelle and I were given private piano lessons by a small woman who had
carrot red hair. My mother also exposed us to as many of the arts as possible.
My heart was always that of a dancer, while Michelle sang, and my brother Mark
played the drums.
When
we joined the church, I became a part of the choir as an alto and second
soprano. Jack Arnold was the choir director, and while Edith Cordell played
piano most of the time, our beloved Deanna Wilkerson sat in for her
periodically. Our band included the likes of Mike Cartmell on his saxophone
and, of course, Deanna was our powerhouse singer. Her voice resonated through
the pain she suffered from the fire that left her face permanently scarred, and
with the joy she must have felt to be in a place where she found love.
Jim
Arnold chose the 10 to 15 strongest voices of the larger choir to record the
music for an album that we all know now as He’s
Able. I felt honored at the invitation. Until that moment, I never really
thought I could sing.
On
the night our group sang, there were probably 20 people in a small studio. I
remember feeling very important to be able to be a part of this event. Never
had I seen a professional recording studio, and I can still see the panel of
instruments that looked like the mother board of a space ship I had seen in a
movie. I wondered how the men behind the glass could learn to operate all of
the instruments.
We
arrived late in the evening, and the session lasted until the wee hours of the
morning. When it was time for my section – the Alto section – to record, about
four of us went behind the glass and put on our headsets. We were excited and
felt like professionals. Jack told us we would hear the lead singer and we
would sing the background. When the first sound came through, I was shocked and
surprised. Jack gave us a few minutes to listen to the lead so we had an idea
of the sound. As we began to sing, Jack stood as he did at choir rehearsal,
intently listening for anyone who was off key. In his search for perfection, he
never had a problem telling you if something was wrong, although I always heard
the love in his voice when he did.
We
sang the first track and waited for him to signal whether or not they needed a
retake. They did. We had to sing that first track over… and over… and over. I
could feel my voice begin to strain, but pushing through, we managed to lay one
track down. We had several more to go. He waved for us to come out, and we
drank tea and lemon to soothe our voices. By the end of the night, we had
probably laid four down tracks. We continued this for a couple of more trips to
Los Angeles, until the album was complete.
I
feel proud to have been a part of the making of He’s Able. The album represents a time of innocence and optimism.
The voices on that it recall a better time and place. I don’t know how many of
those voices were lost in Jonestown, but it somehow keeps them alive in a way
which we can hear and remember. Besides just their names, we have their voices
in joyful power and harmony, and we always will.
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