Nestled under the venerable Bushwick United Methodist Church, home to a local performance rental space called Gymnopedie, Kenter Davies addresses the assembled choir of over two hundred people with a sentiment that strikes a chord in the crowded basement: “We want people to feel as free as they can while we sing this music together.”
Kenter is a conductor with the Gaia Music Collective, a group started by a musician named Matt Goldstein who told Business Insider last year that “the concept emerged out of the isolation of the pandemic” with a group of six close friends harmonizing in a Brooklyn home that slowly doubled in size until it became these now-professionally hosted basement choirs, where the ticketed, open-to-anybody performances now regularly sell out.
On a rainy Sunday last month, attendees were gathering for the latest of these three-hour “One-Day Choirs,” drawn in by Goldstein’s promise of a sanctuary where they can immerse themselves in the pure and unrestrained art of singing without the burden of auditions, critiques, or the quest for flawlessness. Today, Kenter was getting them to focus on Fleetwood Mac’s iconic 1975 record “Landslide.”
The goal of these classes is to meticulously dissect the song, giving people a chance to delve into both musical intricacies and the emotional nuances of Stevie Nicks’ words. Before each session, the Gaia group sends out preparatory materials of how they’ve planned on arranging the song via email, stressing confidentiality. These consist of sheet music and comprehensive breakdowns written by the group’s directors that elucidates the roles of sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses in singing along.
I was an Alto.
While these group harmonies welcome both “local ensemble veterans” and novices alike, the room buzzed with the obvious presence of real choir enthusiasts. Music-themed jokes circulate. Someone quips about owning a “stupid music nerd shirt” that reads: “Hold me, I’m a Fermata,” garnering nods of recognition. Intrigued, I quickly search “Fermata” on my phone and find out that a “fermata” is a musical symbol that means to hold a note for an indefinite period. Funny stuff.
The venue itself, Gymnopedie, has a charm of its own, proudly advertised online as a “raw, historic space,” evident in the subtle imperfections found in the uneven floors and the vintage basketball hoops adorning each wall, last used in the 1970s. Sitting on Bushwick Avenue, it sells abundant space for “photo shoots, video shoots, and events,” per the website. It’s 5500-square-foot, all underground. Hourly fees vary, generally, from $110 to $230 per hour.
When the class commences, Kenter, dressed in vibrantly multi-colored overalls and chunky earrings, gathers everyone in a circle for a relaxed, meditative session consisting of much humming and chanting. Members of today’s choir sway gently from side to side, eyes closed, their voices blending harmoniously.
“We’re embarking on a journey together, let the music transport us,” Kenter says in a reassuring tone. The basement’s intimate confines also lend it perfectly stunning acoustics, I could hear each voice resonating softly against the backdrop of the retro-mismatched, paint-peeling walls.
The choir divides into smaller groups, based on vocal ranges, and go about collaboratively tackling the sheet music together. But it’s when these groups later reunite into the larger communal circle to perform the full song itself that the true enchantment of these one-day choirs truly peaks.
The more seasoned choir members gently lead to support newcomers and try to avoid criticism, in alignment with the Gaia’s mission statement: “No judgment. No need for perfection.” But cheers do erupt during the particularly exceptional run-throughs of the harmonized Fleetwood Mac song, singers can be spotted exchanging congratulatory glances when their standout vocal groups shine.
At the end, everyone sat in a circle on the floor and shared their personal interpretations of Nicks’ timeless folk rock balm.
I heard some reflect on the song’s conventional meaning, its wistful contemplation of romantic separation and the relentless passage of time. Through tears, one young woman revealed her ongoing struggle with a recent breakup, telling the class how singing “Landslide” had now imbued her with newfound courage. “I’ll be able to put myself out there again,” she told us.
In another poignant moment, a different member of that afternoon’s communal choir said the song evoked memories of her fading religious upbringing. After the class, she confided in me that the Gaia Collective’s One-Day Choirs have become her new form of spiritual sanctuary, offering all the singing she associated with communal worship, without the judgment or rigidity of her youth. It’s a narrative that resonates with some profoundly in the basement just beneath the active Methodist church, where congregants spill out from their own service upstairs.
“I was brought up in a very fear-based area of Christianity and so the lyrics ‘I’ve been afraid of changing’ make me reflect on the hardest year of my life and a lot of that has to do with that change and stepping outside of myself,” she says.
Gaia Music’s next participatory “One-Day Choir” takes place this Sunday at “Gymnopedie,” at 1139 Bushwick Avenue, where the group will be finding their feelings in “Diamonds” by Rihanna. Tickets are already sold out. Priced on “a sliding scale” of $11-33, with a suggested price of $22, the group stresses, however, that “no one will be turned away due to a lack of funds.” Find tickets for future shows here.
Photos taken by taken by Michelle Maier.
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