For aspiring singer Ivy Hart, all that should be on her mind is to get a well paying job to help support her struggling and ailing family. But when she stumbles across a speakeasy in need of a new waitress, she crosses paths with a sarcastic yet wil...
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"Now if we're gonna do this right, we'll be needing to figure out ya vocal range." Levi told me, tuning up the last instrument that were each standing directly in front of us.
"Vocal range?" I was a bit baffled. I was a little rusty on my musical knowledge since New York.
To be honest, my Daddy never really taught me the technical terms for music writing and notes. His band mates and him usually discussed that kinda stuff backstage when I was awaiting for him to perform. Or he just made up a song in the street of our neighborhood, bringing the whole community together and carried it over to the stage by memory.
But I could use a little education on the subject if I wanted to make sure I was doing my parts right. Although, I still didn't know what any of that had to do with all these instruments being wrangled up.
"Yes! Ya see, each singer has a distinct vocal range to any musician. Now for a little doll like yourself, ya need to distinguish which preferred range will be in your arrangements when performing live." He causally just explained like it was a second language.
"And how do we determine that?" I wholeheartedly was still lost.
"Well it's easy! See if you're comfortable with a bass, your tempo would probably sound something like this..." He began playing the drums in a low octave so effortlessly and happily nodding—us both feeling how nice the rhythm moved.
"Uh, I don't think that's right." I simply shook my head.
"Good! I fully agree! Your voice is more angelic than that for sure. So! Ya could be a baritone..." He trailed off, jumping from one instrument to another. The sax. Swiftly letting go a few bars from that as my eyes widened in amazement.
He was as talented as my Daddy's old friend, Louis Armstrong on the trumpet.
How did he know how to play both so well?!
"Uh, maybe-"
"That's a no too, I'm assuming?" He wondered, throwing it on the couch. I nodded slowly. "Good decision. I always become so out of breath when I play that thing anyway." I let out a small giggle. Show off. "So maybe you're a tenor!" He rushed over to the cello, releasing a few notes without even looking at any piece of paper. Oh my lord. He knew how to play three now?! "But then again, ya could be alto too." He now danced slightly over to the clarinet.
I tilted my head to the sound more confused of him, than trying to find my own sound.
Now it was four?!
"Levi, I didn't-" I started to profess happily.
He chuckled and slid over to the piano. "Think you're that either? I know. Ya not any of those because I heard your heart last night...and it told me the answer already. You're a Mezzo-Soprano."
