The first time I can remember singing a solo was in front of the 9th grade girls choir, and, Lord save us, it was "Moon River". Now I spoze you can all tell how old I am. The choir director was an amazing birdlike woman, Violinda Nelson, HONEST!(almost birdlike, anyway... we said she looked like twin olives on a toothpick) and she picked me from 40 or 50 girls to sing the solo part. I thought it was a pretty cool song (now you really know how old I am) but her idea of what it should sound like differed radically from mine.
She was a strong proponent of that branch of classical performance that involves pseudo-english (UK) diction and singing melifluously through one's nose. To give you a further idea of her grip on reality, she taught us the scale to this poem:
(DO)I am a little pussy,my
(RE)coat is furry grey, I
(MI)live in the meadow not
(FA)very far away, I'll
(SO)always be a pussy, I'll
(LA)never be a cat, 'cause
(TI)I'm a pussywillow! Now
(DO)what do you think of that?
No matter how many times she demonstrated it, we could never get past DO without hysterics...
Anyway, I learned to sing "Moooooouhn Reeebuh, wiiiiiiduh then a miiiiile, Ahm crawwhsin' yhoo en stahhll..." and when I sang it, I could see most of my family in the second row with their faces buried in their hands to keep from laughing.
After that, performing in college coffeehouses was a piece of cake.
Blessings,
Barbara