What is it, then, between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not.
— Walt Whitman, from “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”

The words from this Whitman text don’t appear in today’s program, but they perfectly capture a sentiment that everyone in this room is familiar with from the COVID-19 pandemic and its resulting necessary individual isolation. The idea that, whatever space existed between us, it availed not.

We’re certainly not fully out of the COVID-19 pandemic itself, but we have moved into a new phase of this collective journey, one that feels tremendously normal yet is anything but. I was in New York City for the entirety of lockdown, and the way I often described it to those who lived elsewhere was “sirens and birds”. There’s a sound of the city that was conspicuously absent. As a native New Yorker, it was deeply unsettling and unfamiliar. I missed the sounds of barflies spilling out onto the sidewalks, of excessive beeping of cars, of stupendously entertaining conversations resounding from below my window in a way that’s possible only in New York.

I always program concerts thematically, and so when the Young New Yorkers’ Chorus (YNYC) Mixed Ensemble received an invitation to sing at the ACDA Eastern Region Conference, I tried to hew as close to the theme of “Raise Our Voice” as possible, while also minding the creative confines of working with a group that rehearses for two hours a week. I was particularly compelled by the final line of this conference’s statement of purpose: “Singing with others not only creates a cohesive sound that is stronger than when singing alone, but also amplifies our individual voices in pursuit of positive social change.” The idea that individual voices both serve a greater whole, and act as a vehicle for change is one of the core things that makes our art form so unique, and something that can only happen when people come together, in person. It is especially resonant after our shared experience through COVID.

Adult youth brings a special energy with it, but also a particularly active transience given where folks in their 20s and 30s often are in their lives. The majority of the members of the ensemble you’re listening to right now have been with YNYC since only 2021, which means that you’re listening to a particularly new group. They are, for the most part, not professional singers — they are finance professionals, social media strategists, graphic designers, and teachers, among many other occupations. 

But — while they are avocational singers, they are among the finest musicians I’ve ever worked with, professional or not. They are also some of the most incredible people I’ve ever met, and we have a lot of fun. Their collective voice, the sum of their individual stories from all walks of life, is the lifeblood of YNYC, and what I feel makes our work so successful.

The repertoire on today’s program is meant to reflect the journey of a young New Yorker during their first years in the city, which is a very specific adventure that our members have bravely embarked on. To live in New York City is a gift of a particular kind — if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, as the famous song goes. It is a place where both the individual and collective voice can not only be raised, but truly heard. You can let your full, authentic self shine and thrive; you can create amazing art with the best of the best; and you can experience humanity in a way that’s nearly impossible to witness anywhere else.

I aim to capture at least some of that humanity with today’s program. I’m in awe of our singers’ commitment to the art of choral music, and, more importantly, storytelling. It is a gift to know them and to work with them.

And so — what does it mean to raise our voice? I suppose we’ll find out over the next few days. Here’s to a lifetime of discovery, curiosity, and creativity in the pursuit of raising our voice to shorten the distance between us.

Alex