Singalong... when it's odd
Up in Tamworth, the Sunny Cowgirls, the Lee Kernaghan band, and Jasmine Rae all were much louder than their appreciative gallery, so no one really minded the singalong.
(Yes, I shot all these photos)
But then what about this picture of young Paul singing to his bride Jamie?
So the question is begged...when is it right to singalong, and when do we leave it for the performer? Perhaps it's dependent on the price of the ticket. A free concert, well, it's a free-for-all, and everyone can sing. A ticket at the Sydney Opera House to see La Boheme would not, even if you were a trained opera singer, allow you to sing "Quando m'en vo". It's a fascinating dynamic, really, when you think about it.
We don't grab a scalpel and enter the operating room with our surgeon.
We don't move around the counter and start slicing our cheese for the morning omelet at the grill.
But music, apparently in live concert, in the pub, the club, or in Times Square or Martin Place... that's free game.
Has this ever bothered you? What did you do about this?
Oh, at the neighbourhood church, they would welcome you to join them in singing to God, by the way. And I wonder if God Himself might not be joining in the chorus. As the Jewish prophet Zephaniah said, "The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing." Want to join in?