Aria: (n) a long, unaccompanied solo for voice, typically in an opera or oratorio.
If human beings were not so pretentious, we would almost be fun. At least it would be closer.
Over the years, I have sung a song or two. Actually I’ve done much more than that–I’ve recorded, written songs and performed on stages all over the United States.
And after the show, folks will come up to talk to me, wanting to make some sort of personal connection.
Some people are just genuine and pour out their hearts with the present words that are floating around inside their minds. They are delightful.
Others feel the need to prove their intelligence and acumen by making a more specific statement, which is usually geared more to promoting their own resume than encouraging my soul. Two categories for these:
- “You sound like…”
- And “I can tell by your voice that you’ve been professionally trained…”
Concerning the latter, it is an amazing fact that although most people don’t like opera or favor operatic singing, they still use that particular style as a measuring stick for vocal quality. (It is similar to hating Chevys but making your Ford feel bad by constantly talking about the other product.)
I don’t know why we think that opera singers are better at their craft than some guy with a guitar in a coffee shop, intoning his anthem–but we do.
It really isn’t an appreciation for the aria or the performer, but rather, letting everyone in the room know that we are aware of this medium and to a certain degree, can even pronounce the unusual names associated with it.
This is why I got tickled when Pavarotti got a cold and couldn’t sing.
It was so human.
And then, another time, he had voice strain and had to cancel his promised aria.
When you remove all the fictitious ideas from the human race, you end up with a much smaller pile of knowledge.
But it actually all ends up being true.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix