I’m in!
I managed not to make a complete ass of myself, apparently, because I am now singer number 349.1 (”looks like a Dewey Decimal number!” I quipped) in the first-alto section of the Fairfax Choral Society.
The director, a tall, soft-spoken man who reminds me a lot (and in good ways) of my well-beloved high-school choir director, ran me through my range, exuding a comforting sense of ease about its limits. I really wish I’d stood where I could see the piano, because I don’t have perfect pitch and so I don’t know what my range now is. I’m sure it’s higher than it once was, though; I was popping out some high Gs and As that I know for dead certain I didn’t have in high school or college. (I used to squeak out at an F. Hey, I bet I can sing Gilbert and Sullivan lovesick-contralto arias now! Cool! Never could before.)
He told me I have a soprano in there waiting to break out, $DEITY help me, and vacillated between dropping me into the mezzos and leaving me with what I’m used to. In the end, since I resolutely refused to express an opinion, he let me keep my good alto name untarnished.
(Seriously. Anyone hearing my speaking voice would never peg me as a soprano.)
I didn’t embarrass myself singing the “prepared” piece or doing the sightsinging, and while it turns out I can’t go up a tritone by half-steps and return to my original note (?!), apparently I pass muster.
This is going to be fun!