So yesterday, Christina and I went to pick up Number Two Daughter from a week at a jazz camp at Eastern Washington University, which she attended this year and last courtesy of my very generous parents. In the course of it, the campers got time in an honest-to-God studio, to record the songs they were going to use for the final recital. Herewith is presented Number Two Daughter's recording. (The link seems to be funky if you just click on it, but if you download it, it should play fine.)
Granted, I'm a little biased, but I don't think I have to be in this case. She's sixteen, for heaven's sake, and she sounds this good. We've never gotten her any private lessons, either; we can't afford to. All she's had is training from a semi-adequate high school choir teacher, and the intensive stuff she's gotten in two one-week sessions at Eastern. Which, I have to say, has been excellent.
Dang, she's good. Is it any wonder I'm proud?
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