Bryn Fleck – SGC Class of 2025

THE CONCERT

PRE

In recent years, I’ve tackled my stage fright performing in front of hundreds on stages across the world. When my breathing accelerates, and the butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach, I am comforted by the numerous pep-talks, dance parties, and I-love-you-pass-it-ons before nail-biting performances. 

Perhaps the most nervous I’ve ever been was at Sweeps (a regional a cappella competition) last year. Sorella had tirelessly prepared four pieces over several months to perform at the competition. We had never competed before, it felt incredibly foreign. I had a couple solos to sing that night, and I woke up practically in a cold sweat thinking about performing them in front of the judges, fellow performers, and hundreds of audience members. When it came time to line up backstage, Lauren took each one of us aside and told us some personalized words of encouragement. When Lauren reassured me that she would be proud no matter the outcome, I trusted her completely, and my nerves settled. I felt lucky to be in a group where we didn’t just sing together—we cared for each other. That night, Sorella placed third.

PERFORMANCE 

After hours of rehearsal, the first time we share our music with an audience feels surreal. Even now, I still get nervous knowing my mom is watching—like I’m seven years old again.

Performing is always such a joy as it’s often the first time we’ve sung our repertoire outside of our beloved, but cold and cramped church basement. I still remember how each church and venue shaped our sound during my first tour in 2022. The last concert we gave that summer was in a neighborhood church in a small town outside of Prague. Before our performance, the church buzzed with the laughter of family and friends—a true full house. We were thousands of miles from home, and we didn’t have a single familiar face looking back at us, but it didn’t matter; our music still managed to bring people together. At some point, our song was joined by the chirping of a little bird. I remember catching a rather frustrated look on Jake’s face as the bird began to sing along. He was clearly annoyed that we’d all lost focus. But in that moment, I couldn’t help but think about how far our sound had traveled—we were a long way from our cold, cramped church basement. 

POST

After the gig, we are overcome with joy and relief — a shared euphoria. It’s the hideous laughs and greasy fast food we always seem to share that shape my memories. One night, not too long ago, some friends and I gathered in Stella’s home. It was the night after Carmina Angelorum. The long program called for McDonald’s — our fast food of choice. We ate our burgers and fries just as we did all those other times, practically choking on our food as we laughed about some egregious mistake one of us had made earlier that night. When we were done, we huddled around a phone, as we normally do, only this time it was different. We all pressed close as the phone played a YouTube clip of Carmina Angelorum from three years ago. We cringed at the sound of our younger selves, innocent and at times out of tune. The songs carried memories of success, and hardship alike. Each song that rang out from the small phone speaker carried a distinct memory, instantly transporting us back to the moment we first belted out those notes. Since then, we had learned everything we needed to become the musicians we always dreamed of being. We learned how to sing pieces without time signatures, and how to pronounce ecclesiastical Latin. But we also learned how to fight, and bicker like no one was around, and we learned how to come back stronger. We learned to trust each other when we got on that stage, and how to show up for each other with each and every rehearsal. When the recording ended, I realized these songs had become the soundtrack of our adolescence and that they will continue to linger within us, serving as reminders of the countless hours we spent singing side by side.