To be one’s true self is the goal in life. This blog series would not exist if it weren’t for a reunion with an old friend who had all the makings of a modern-day Mozart. But at a pivotal fork in the road, he chose the path behind a desk, instead of one behind a keyboard, which would’ve honored his gift - like Mozart did. Now, 20 years later, he’s unrecognizable, this friend who once had music radiating from every cell, especially when singing in random bursts of happiness. The years have taken their toll - not just in the added 20 pounds that don’t belong, but in the heaviness that comes when living someone else’s life, and not one’s true purpose. The life you came here to live.
As a writer, this inspired me to highlight the special souls who chose to follow their true path. The tougher path, but one that honors and expresses the powerful gift of music they’ve been given. To live the Mozart life. May some of their words help or inspire you to find your true calling in life.
Every morning lately, I’ve had my cup of tea with a dose of “Soul Food to Go” for that extra jolt. An immediate pick me up. I’d skipped over my Manhattan Transfer playlist for years, until a recent reunion jogged my mind to the vivid memory of one of my life’s few magical moments - seeing them at Radio City with a special soulmate many years ago.
Music is so powerful. It’s the closest thing we have to a time machine. In our minds, at least. I can recall where I sat, what I felt in that moment in the nosebleed section as they walked out to this song, bathed in the blue light and background on stage, as the late Tim Hauser did his thing on this ebullient tune. No matter what kind of day you’re having, there’s no way you won’t crack a smile and head bop around to that song. It never fails to brighten up the day.
So to talk to Janis Siegel who was on that Radio City stage decades ago, is one of life’s brilliant full circle moments. While life has changed so much in the intervening years - like the less simple era we’re now in, or that the soulmate is now a stranger and I am only left with that beautiful memory - it’s comforting to know some things are still the same, like Manhattan Transfer’s timeless music and enduring quality for the past 45 years. With just one song on my iPod, they take me back there.
I spoke to the Grammy-winning Brooklyn native, who joined the Transfer in 1972, as she prepares to go on their first major tour with Take 6 called “The Summit: Manhattan Transfer Meets Take 6,” which starts Oct. 1 in Bangor, Maine. Janis reflects on topics like what helped her get through founder Tim’s passing, meditating, a life path that was almost in medicine while at SUNY Buffalo, and the gift of harmonizing.
Do you still do “Soul Food To Go” on tour?
We don’t because our founder Tim passed away. That was his song, and we don’t do it.
What’s your training, did you go to music college or were you always musical and skipped college?
I kind of skipped college and I just did it, I just was in music. I sang and wrote and recorded. I was in college for nursing, but I left, I never finished.
You write original music?
Yeah, occasionally. I’m not prolific by any means. I write vocal arrangements though.
So you left college for music?
I’ve been singing since I’m 12 professionally. I was recording here in New York City, I grew up in the city, in Brooklyn. I was recording at an early age, but I never thought that I was going to make music a career. I was interested in other things.
What happened in nursing school that you knew you were going to do music?
I just couldn’t relate to anybody in my nursing class at all. (laughs) It seemed so rigid as opposed to the stuff I was doing in music. And it has to be, nursing, you’re keeping people alive and learning disciplines, you have to learn chemistry and anatomy and physics. It was at State University of New York at Buffalo, and that’s where I met my friend Jay Beckenstein, who started a group called Spyro Gyra and we ended up recording one of their songs “Shaker Song.”
Manhattan Transfer also writes original songs sometimes, can you talk about how a song came to you, how you channeled that, was it a melody first and then lyrics for example?
Our record “The Offbeat of Avenues” contains mostly original material and it’s really the only one. Alan has written a lot of tunes. Alan writes the most out of all of us. But for that record, I wrote a tune called “Sassy,” which won a Grammy. I have to really focus and concentrate on the writing. It doesn’t come that easy to me. It used to, but not anymore. I think I just became too self conscious about it. When I was 12, 13 and 14, I was writing all the time, but now I know too much. (laughs) And I’ve been singing all these amazing songs my whole career. We’re probably going to be writing for the new record.
Manhattan Transfer is one of the only major vocal groups that has endured through the decades, and you’re still here.
We’re still here (laughs), 45 years later. We’re still plugging it, we’re still going at it.
You helped introduce and preserve classics like “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square.” Do you feel that’s your calling, to help keep that kind of music alive? It was because of you I went to buy a Lambert, Hendricks and Ross CD back then because you mentioned them on stage.
I do, I feel that to some extent, a keeper of the flame, absolutely. And we always pay tribute to Jon.
To be able to sing jazz, scat, and interpret an existing song (and make it one’s own) is a gift. When did you know you had this gift of music and how did it manifest for you?
I was singing professionally at age 12. I was doing it and I loved it. I just always loved to sing and harmony is something that I can hear in my head. I don’t know how to explain it, except that it’s something that I can do spontaneously and it feels like a geography almost. If I hear a melody, then I can harmonize the line almost immediately, and one of my greatest joys is singing harmony.
I’ve always loved singing harmony. In my girl group we sang three part harmony. It was called the “Young Generation.” I was 12 years old, so we’re talking about late ‘60s, because I joined the Manhattan Transfer in 1972. But when I heard four and five part harmony, I said, “That’s what I want to do. I want to do that.” And now I do. I’m the alto in the group technically, Cheryl’s the soprano. I sing alto for the most part, although occasionally we switch if we want a different sound on top, but I also do solo work and there I can do whatever I want.
How did you start to do the human discipline it takes to channel your gift, hone it, and bring it forth when you were 12?
It was really passion that drove me at that point, to practice, to perform, to get out there, to record. We got a manager. We worked hard, plus we were also in school. And that was very important to our parents, certainly, they didn’t want us to be musicians. That’s for sure. But especially when I joined the Transfer, there was a certain amount of discipline that was instated in my life. When I decided that I wanted to be able to sing at a certain level, well into my 70s, 80s maybe, you have to take care of yourself. The instrument is in your body. So if you want to preserve the instrument you have to take certain cares and precautions.
At 12 with the ‘Young Generation,” did you sing all over New York City?
We sang wherever we could. We did make a couple records, we made singles. In those days you didn’t make an album unless you sold a bunch of singles. We’d sing at Good Guy record hops and boy scout breakfasts, and we’d sing on the subway and anywhere. We’d sing everywhere. I was in my own group when I met Tim Hauser, I still had that all female group thing going on, but I left my own group to join the Manhattan Transfer. (laughs)
You mentioned your instrument, which is your voice. What’s your protocol on taking care of it?
You have to know yourself. Voice rest is the best possible thing for your voice when it’s tired. You don’t realize it, but you’re talking all the time. Your cords are vibrating together all the time. It’s like eating you can’t really stop it without some effort. (laughs) But if my voice is really tired, or God forbid, I get some kind of inflammation or infection, then I have to go on voice rest, and that’s a big discipline. I’ve been on voice rest for three weeks at a time. You have to definitely stay hydrated, you have to eat correctly. Cardiovascular work is necessary for me because for two hours a night, you’re singing, you’re pumping air and wanting to hold notes and have strength in your sound, and that takes lung power.And your whole body has to be strong, not only for singing, but for withstanding the rigors of the road, it’s no joke. (laughs) The 12 hour flights and then having to go to work.
I would think voice rest can be boring.
No, it’s not boring. It’s actually kind of spiritual, and I would do it even if I didn’t have to probably, if I could just go away to a silent retreat for a week, a year, something like that. I bring a pad with me and just write.
Do you meditate?
Yes, but not for voice rest, for my own well being.
Sometimes you hear opera singers say they don’t drink alcohol.
I’m careful, but I do drink wine.
There are divine moments of serendipity, where a catalyst opens the door that leads to the path we’re meant to be on, the one where we live out the fullest expression of our true selves. It sounds like at age 12 you knew?
But I didn’t know I wanted to do it for the rest of my life at age 12. It was just something I loved. I wanted to be a marine biologist and then I wanted to be a nurse, so there were other things that intrigued me. Medicine was certainly one of them. I don’t know if there was one moment. I just kept doing what I loved.
What inspired this blog series was seeing an old friend who has a special gift of music, but didn’t choose that path, who, 20 years later, isn’t living the life he thought he’d live. People who make music and get to travel the world doing so are a rare example of a life where one is able to honor and channel their gift of music. Do you feel you’re consciously living the life you thought you’d be living?
Yeah. (laughs) The minute I joined the Transfer, I knew it was going to be a special ride. Although I was not the big dreamer. Tim was the big dreamer. I was more into just doing the daily work. You need both kinds of people to make something work. I never imagined we would be popular internationally, and be together after 45 years. I don’t you think about that when you’re in your 20s. (laughs) I honestly can say that I’m still doing everything that I love. I feel very fulfilled with doing this. There’s still things I’d like to do, but this is definitely what I’m supposed to be doing.
Embarking on this path you chose, was that difficult, because you didn’t know you would get here so many years later?
There was a lot of uncertainty at first, of course. But once we decided about the Transfer, I was very certain this was the right thing. I was completely certain.
How did you know that this is your life path, your calling?
It feels right. That’s how you know. You just know. It feels right.
Life does give us catalysts, a release valve, which often is our lowest point in life, that allows us to push up to the next, hopefully better chapter. Like a wilderness period that helps raise our consciousness and stay true to oneself and one’s own path. What was that low point for you that helped you push yourself further and evolve?
Being in a group for 45 years is like a deep kind of relationship, so we have high points, we have low points, things happening on a day to day basis where you have to raise your game, maybe improve your interpersonal skills. It’s been a family, almost marriage, and to keep it going. Certainly a low point has been Tim’s death. It wouldn’t get any lower than that for me, as far as the group goes. He’s not just an original, he’s the guy that all of us came from, really. He’s the founder of the group.
How did you redirect the compass, how did you find the strength to keep it going?
Through the music. It was really the music that pulled me through. I don’t what I would’ve done without that. In some ways, it was thrust on us that we had to continue. Tim passed away in the middle of a tour. We had to continue or else get sued, or go into financial debt, so we continued. Luckily, we had the help of Trist Curless who is now our newest member, he was Tim’s sub when he was sick. And he made himself available immediately. It was like we were in mourning every single night. Every single night was like a wake. It was very, very difficult to get through a show without weeping. But we did. And it’s part of life, but it really hit home. Hard.
You mentioned you meditate, is it a daily process?
It’s a daily process. To me, the value of meditating is the trying, it’s the discipline of doing it. But then it’s like the coming back to the mantra, or the space, the emptiness, emptying your mind trying. You’d have to live on a mountain top to really empty your mind and be truly peaceful. (laughs) But just the trying of it is the thing that I think valuable, and also I take care of myself. I try and do things that are pleasurable to me, I try and learn new things all the time. And I take the time out if I need it for myself, because if I’m not functioning well, then I’m not going to be any good to the entity.
What’s the new thing you’ve been delving into that you’re enjoying?
I have a Brazilian group, so I’ve been learning Portuguese, to sing in Portuguese. And we’ve been doing a lot gigs, and we have a record out, planning a second one. And cooking is something I’ve always enjoyed. I do that a lot when I’m home. I have a couple of friends that I cook with and we plan, we get really obsessive about a theme. One of the guys is a professor of sonic arts at City College, he’s an engineer.
It’s been a tough year for music, losing its own. Do you think about time much and what you want to achieve in the time we have?
I think death oftentimes is a catalyst for thinking about this stuff. And getting older is a catalyst for it, having children is a catalyst. So all of those three things have happened to me - experienced close and immediate death, I am getting older, and I have a child. So I think about it, but I don’t obsess on it, I really don’t. I want to enjoy aging and I want to do everything I can to ensure that I have the facilities to enjoy it, the physical capabilities. Keeping everything in working order.
In terms of time we have, do you think about other goals you want to get done?
Music is eternally interesting to me, so that never gets old. There are other skills I want to get better at, like arranging. I never did go to school for music, so I’m always looking to catch up with certain things. Also there’s (music-related) technology that I’m trying to keep up with. I love to travel for pleasure. And I’d love to go to cooking school, or become a sommelier. (laughs) So maybe some day. We’ll see.
Unlike any time in history, we’re in a overwhelming digital era. There is so much detritus, noise and schadenfreude. What’s your view on that, and how do you find quiet in this era?
Meditation certainly helps and there are little pockets of peacefulness in the city. I grew up in the city, so I find it kind of peaceful here, which is odd. (laughs) But I find peace in the noise and the energy. I live in Manhattan now, even though Brooklyn has gotten so trendy. That’s where all the young musicians are living.
How do you ground yourself and focus on your own life path and purpose?
I never know what my schedule is, I work a lot at home. I’m producing a project right now, so I have budgets to address, etc. I’m producing something for a Filipino artist, my second project for him. But I try and take a little time for myself every day.
I’m a firm believer in doing mitzvahs, especially in the tougher times of our lives. To give back, be of service in some way can only help us in the end. What are your thoughts?
In New York, there’s a lot of opportunity for that. You see someone on the street and you can give them your food or groceries, or a few bucks. For a while, I was working at a soup kitchen at a temple, which was very satisfying. People that are not necessarily homeless, but just can’t afford to have a job, pay rent, and eat. So to provide one meal a week for them was very much appreciated. Some of the people come directly from work. It’s always good to gain some perspective that way.
What advice do you have for people who have the gift of music, but don’t know how to start channeling it, to develop that gift and bring it out?
Everybody’s got to find their own way. You just have to do whatever you do, whether it’s sing or play an instrument, as much, and wherever, as possible. Maybe it’s not the most perfect gig. I came up in a different time, granted, we used to just sing in the subways or on the street corner. And I would also advise listen to music, other music.
What do you do to help pick yourself up when you’re feeling down? Is there a song you play that inspires you when you’re needing some inspiration?
There’s no one song. I listen to a vast, vast variety of music. Although, after Tim died I just listened to very sparse choral music. And that was very, very helpful and calming, like Eric Whitacre – his vocal arrangements. My son can tell you I just had that on repeat. (laughs)