Source: The New Yorker.
It’s early June, and the rehearsal room, in a rustic lodge on the shores of Lake Dunmore, in central Vermont, has been left unheated, somewhat optimistically. The indoor temperature is in the high fifties, and the singers are bundled up as if for a hike. The conductor, Brad Wells, has on a worn baseball cap and a sweatshirt, and the singers are wearing hoodies, woollens, and puffy vests, some with scarves and beanies. They have the ragamuffin look of Christmas carollers, despite their fierce-sounding name: Roomful of Teeth. They’ve been invited to the lake for a weeklong residency at the New Music on the Point festival. (When the adults leave, their cabins will be taken over by hordes of summer campers.) Mostly, though, they’re here to blow the other singers’ minds.