The Academical Village People

Last night UVa had its annual fall Rotunda Sing. On the evening of the first day of classes, all of UVa’s a cappella groups perform a free joint concert on the south steps of the Rotunda. People get there early and put out blankets so they can get a good view of the groups as they perform, in total, about two hours of music.

I happened to be online at around 7:30-8:00 last night, so I checked out the RotundaCam to see if I could see any goings-on. The camera is too far away from the Rotunda, so I could make out only a blurry crowd of people gathered on the Lawn in front of it. But it got me all nostalgic for my UVa a cappella experience.

For those who don’t know, most American colleges have a cappella groups these days. A cappella means “without instruments” (that’s not the literal meaning, but that’s what it’s come to mean). A college a cappella group usually has about 14-16 members — sometimes all men, sometimes all women, sometimes mixed — and typically they sing vocal versions of pop songs from the 70s, 80s and 90s. For each song, one person sings the lyrics and everyone else does the harmony and the rhythm (which usually includes percussion). Everything is done using the voice or vocal percussive sounds. Here are some examples.

The first time I saw/heard an a cappella group was at an activity fair during my first week of college. I saw the Virginia Gentlemen (the VGs), UVa’s oldest a cappella group, perform, and I was enthralled. The VGs were a group of attractive guys performing songs for an enthusiastic crowd — mostly women — and they just looked so damn cool. I never even dreamed of trying out for them or for any other group, because they just seemed so far above me.

It wasn’t until the spring of my second year of college that I decided I wanted to be in a group. I already knew some of the members, because I was in the University Singers and the Glee Club and some of the people in those groups were in a cappella groups as well. They looked like they had so much fun, and they were so popular — they always got huge crowds, and the members of the groups seemed like this exclusive clique. Plus I loved to sing. I wanted to be a part of it so badly.

So that spring I tried out for the Hullabahoos. I hoped I’d make callbacks. A couple of nights later I walked over to the Lawn, went up to the particular door where the callback list was posted, and my name wasn’t on the list. I was so disappointed.

I tried out for a cappella groups seven times. Tried out for the VGs twice, the Hullabahoos twice, the New Dominions twice, the Academical Village People (AVP) once. I never made it to callbacks. Never. I always wound up frustrated, sometimes in tears. One semester I and a friend in my dorm both tried out for the New Dos. He got called back, and after callbacks they came by and got him and told him he’d got in. They sang to him and took him off with them. I stayed in my room with the door closed and I cried.

I knew I could sing, but I guessed my voice wasn’t good enough. And another problem was that I couldn’t loosen up enough. You have to be relaxed, you have to look like you’re having fun (and usually you are). I was too nervous.

But I never gave up. I wanted it too badly.

Finally, during the fall of my fourth and final year at UVa (or so I thought), I gave it one last shot. Even though it was my last year, I decided, what the hell? So I tried out a second time for AVP.

AVP — the Academical Village People — had been founded in the fall of 1993 by a group of guys in University Singers who were a year younger than me. They’d tried out for different groups without success and thus had decided to start their own, and they were the latest musical sensation at UVa — not always completely in tune, but inventive and irreverent and funny and entertaining and unpretentious. (Thomas Jefferson had called the original the UVa campus the “Academical Village,” so “Academical Village People” was a play on words.)

I knew several of the guys well, and one of the them suggested I try out again for them again. I went to the Rotunda Sing on the night of the first day of classes and saw all the groups perform, including them. They got enormous cheers — they were so good. I decided I had to give it one last shot. If I didn’t give it one last shot I’d never forgive myself.

So I signed up for auditions. I decided I had nothing to lose. I went to the audition a few days later, and for some reason — perhaps because I’d tried everything else — I decided to be relaxed and funny. And I sang pretty well. I felt pretty good about things.

That evening I ran into a few of the guys. They’d just completed the initial auditions. They said hi, and one of them said to me, “Hey, Jeff, be sure to check the callback list! It should be up later tonight.” That had never happened to me before. It was a good sign. Indeed, later that night I checked the callback list — and there was my name! I couldn’t believe it. I stared at it for a few minutes, smiling, so happy.

For the callbacks we had to prepare something funny and entertaining. They were a couple of days later, on a Sunday afternoon. There were eight of us at callbacks. I decided to perform my three-minute Hamlet. They laughed and they liked it. After our little performances, they did blending experiments with each of us — they taught us a voice part for a particular song, and they put us together with them in different combinations. They thanked us, told us that the results would be posted by the next day, and they sent us on our way.

I knew from others’ experiences that if I got in, I was going to find out that night. They’d probably come to my room in the middle of the night and wake me up. If I slept through the night and woke up and it was daylight, I’d know that they hadn’t taken me, and I’d see the list of new guys posted on the door of someone’s Lawn room.

I got into bed that night and tried to sleep. I couldn’t. I was afraid to fall asleep, because I knew that if it was daylight when I woke up, I was screwed. I didn’t want to know.

I tossed and turned and tossed and turned. It was 2 in the morning. Finally I couldn’t take it any more, so I threw on some clothes and walked over to the Lawn and sat on the steps of the Rotunda, staring into the night, letting my mind wander, trying to relax.

After about twenty minutes I went back to my dorm. As I walked into the building I could see something scrawled on our message board. Before I could read it I heard someone in my dorm, Emily, say, “Congratulations, Jeff!” Huh? I looked at my door and read the message. “Where are you?” it said, or something like that. And under my name one of the guys had written “Academical Village Person.”

“You just missed them!” Emily said. “They went down to the computer lab to look for you.”

Pumped with adrenaline, I ran down the hall towards the computer lab. They were still walking towards it when I found them. I ran up to them, they turned around and saw me, and they started cheering and hugging me and snapped a Polaroid and started singing this song to me — “Lover, lover, lover, you don’t treat me no good no more” — but in place of “lover” they substituted my last name. Three of the other guys from callbacks were there as well — they’d taken the four of us.

We all walked over to the Rotunda, where they took out a bottle of champagne and some plastic cups and poured some for each of us. They gave the camera to this girl nearby and had her take some pictures of us as a group, all 14 of us. That was it. I was officially a member of the Academical Village People.

They took us all back to our dorms. My friend — the one who’d got into the New Dominions the year before — was still up, and I gave him a big hug. We were now fellow a cappella people.

I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t. I was too excited. So I threw my clothes back on and walked back over to the Rotunda.

I sat on the Rotunda steps again. I couldn’t believe it — I’d finally made it into an a cappella group. Me! It was the happiest night of my college years.

I stared down the Lawn, looking at the trees and the illuminated buildings. Gazed at Old Cabell Hall, the music building, at the other end of the Lawn. Looked up at the sky. Listened to the crickets. Felt a breeze through my sweatshirt and shorts. Sat there, just sat there, as the sky grew lighter and lighter.

Finally, around 6:30 or 7 in the morning, I went back to my room and went to bed.

It turned out to be a great year. Performances all over the place. In December I had a solo in the a cappella holiday concert — I sang this song, “Mambo Santa.” In February we performed our first full-length concert, “A Midwinter Night’s Sing.” In the spring we recorded our first album, “Hoos Your Daddy?”

I only sang with them for one year, but I made some great friends. I loved the singing, but mostly I loved the friendship and camaraderie I got — not just from them, but from some people in the other groups as well. It was so much fun to be part of the a cappella community.

We were a pretty decent group, but after I and all of the founders graduated, they got much better. In 1998 they made it all the way to the finals of the National Championship of Collegiate A Cappella and thus got to sing at Carnegie Hall. Many of us alums showed up and sat in the audience, nearly incredulous. These guys were singing on the stage of Carnegie Hall. The group had come a long way.

It’s funny. In the fall of 1994, I’d worried that my fourth and final year of college was going to be a bust. I wasn’t going to have any new activities. But then I got into AVP and my life changed. Those guys made my last year of college so wonderful and memorable.

I’m still in touch with many of them — we all exchange e-mail and such. I got to know some good guys through that group.

Thanks, guys, for making my dream finally come true. It really meant a lot to me.
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