My A Cappella Life Part 2

Joining the UVA Hullabahoos

On my first night at the University of Virginia in the fall of 2009 I went to the free-for-students welcome concert at the John Paul Jones arena. Before B.o.B took the stage (“Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now-ow-ow), a rowdy group of fellas ran out and started singing. After their first song, one member explained that they were an all male a cappella group called the Academical Village People¹ and to please consider signing up to audition at the Activities Fair tomorrow. Then they launched into a sans-instruments rendition of John Legend’s ‘Green Light.’ I thought it all sounded pretty cool. 

The next day I followed the Academical Village Person’s instructions and signed up. As I was leaving the area, I felt a warm friendly hand on my arm. I turned to behold the smiling face of Joe Whitney. “Hey man, do you sing?” 

“Uh, yeah. Well, I sang in my high school choir.” 

“Sweet! You should try out for Hullabahoos.” 

“Oh, I’m already auditioning for AVP.” 

“That doesn’t matter, everyone tries out for multiple groups.” 

“Umm…okay. But this is the last one!” 

“Haha okay, great. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

I showed up at UVA like a stem cell. I had extended family in Virginia, but it was far from home and I didn’t know of anyone else from my town who had gone there. I based my decision on the feeling that had gurgled in my gut during my exploratory visit that it felt like a place I’d like to call home for four years. I wanted the blank slate of an entirely new place, the kind of fresh start I wouldn’t have gotten if I’d made the fiscally prudent choice to go to UMass Amherst with forty other people from my high school. I wanted to really fling myself somewhere and see who I was when I landed. College had always been the goal - I realized when I got there that I didn’t know what to do. I certainly hadn’t shown up with the intention of becoming Mr. A Cappella Man, which is why I was reluctant to commit myself to trying out for ten different groups. 

On audition day, I paced around in a garden near the Lawn rooms where I and the other hopefuls were instructed to show up prepared to sing a verse and chorus of a song that showcased our abilities. I was an extremely nervous performer. I was nervous about the things that I knew would happen - my knees would tremble, my hands would shake, and my armpits would flood with sour sweat. But I was terrified of forgetting the words. In the days and hours before a solo, I’d work myself into a protracted panic by imagining approaching the microphone and opening my mouth only to find my mind completely blank. For this reason I decided to sing ‘Take On Me’ by A-Ha, a song I’d successfully sung in front of a crowd during my final spring concert with the Marshalairs. I did not, however, know how to find my starting note. Moron that - ahem, more on that - in a moment. I’d scheduled my Hullabahoo slot first, figuring it would be a good opportunity to get my jitters out before my AVP audition. 

Stage Fright

Joe Whitney appeared once again to take my questionnaire into the room before reappearing thirty seconds later to wave me in. “Gentlemen and gentlemen, he came all the way from Marshfield, Massachusetts - please welcome Buh-rrrandon Borror-Chappell!” The seven or so guys in the room erupted into raucous applause. I paused on the threshold and pumped my clasped hands like a triumphant Olympian as my cheeks flushed and my heart surged. The overenthusiastic greeting flipped a switch in my psyche. My dominant thought had been: they’re going to dismiss me the moment I fuck up. This was replaced by: Oh. They want to want me in their group. 

I sang through some ascending scales (“We wanna hear you crack!”) and did some pitch recall exercises and then it was time for my song. “Do you need a starting note?”

“Is it okay if I get it from my iPod?” 

“Of course!” 

With my sweaty fingers I was too afraid to try to fast forward to the start of the vocals. As you no doubt are aware, ‘Take On Me’ has a weird and long intro. With their eyes on me I became overwhelmed by the lengthening silence so I hastily shoved my iPod back into my pocket and launched into the—and I can’t emphasize this word enough—full synth intro. 

“Do do do doot do do do do dodo dodo do do do doot do doot do do dodo dodo do do do doot do doot do do dodo dodo do do do doot do doot do do dodo dodo -” and here I panicked, because there’s a slight melodic variation in the second iteration before the singer comes in, so of course I had to doot do it again to make sure I got it right - “do do do doot do do do do dodo dodo do do do doot do doot do do dodo do do do doot do doot do do dodo dodo do do do doot do doot do do do talkin’ away, I don’t know what I’m to say I’ll say it anyway, today is another day to find you. Shyin’ away, I’ll be comin’ for your love okay, taaake on me. Take me oooon. I’ll be gone in a day or twoooooooooo!” 

It was more memorably bizarre than I thought at the time. I think during my AVP audition I administered just a half dose of the synth intro. Thankfully, my auditions were good enough that I was called back to both groups the next day. It’s very odd walking into a ‘casual hang’ where you know you’re being scrutinized. It’s like a server delivering your food and saying, “Now I’m going to watch you chew.” For AVP we milled about and played Super Smash Bros at the off-Grounds house where some of the guys lived. For Hullabahoos, we met at a field and played pick-up football. I was grateful for the opportunity to show off my punting skills - you don’t get many of those after high school, I’ve found. We also broke off into different sections and learned a background part to Edwin McCain’s ‘I’ll Be.’ Nathan Swedberg taught me my part. By this point I was fully in the Hullabahoo tractor beam. That afternoon I did my AVP callback first, where the unthinkable happened: I flubbed the lyrics to N*SYNC’s ‘Tearin Up My Heart.’ I just prayed it wouldn’t happen again. 

I walked into the bright rehearsal room at Old Cabell Hall to find fifteen or so Hullabahoos (including a couple alumni) who were happy to see me. We did some warm-ups. They did not need to hear ‘Take On Me’ again. I sang ‘Tearin Up My Heart,’ this time starting with the chorus, and all of the words came to me. We did a quick refresher on my part to ‘I’ll Be’ and then Nathan dropped out and I carried the mid range ooh’s and aah’s in the correct key along with my melodic brethren. The little light inside the core of my being was burning so bright I could feel its flames tickling my lungs. I had never in my life felt such a powerful sense of belonging. 

They had also asked us to prepare five minutes of entertainment because ‘it’s a long day and we need a little break from a cappella.’ I started talking about my high school career as I pulled six socks out of a bag. I talked about trying hard in my classes, about being on three different varsity sports teams, and about being with my girlfriend since 8th grade as I paired the socks together and started juggling them. I talked about not really knowing what to do with all the things I liked to do, kind of like how I didn’t know what to do with these socks now that I don’t want to juggle them anymore. The subtext that was hidden from even myself was that all of those things had brought me to this room. I had unwittingly molded myself into a perfect fit for the Hullabahoos, a group of guys who were best friends who happened to love to sing together. 

After I received my rapturous applause and put my socks away, Joe said, “All right well that’s it. Do you have any questions for us?” 

I paused for a moment to consult with my brain to see if there was anything it wanted to know. There was only one thought. 

“Can you let me in your group?” 

There was a short burst of surprised laughter. Joe said, “Ha, we’ll let you know.” 

I left the room full of the jubilant confidence that I had accurately and completely presented myself. Borne aloft by this warm cloud, I drifted into Clay Pulsipher, a fellow flush faced dual callback-ee. 

“Are you done?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I just left my Hullabahoo callback.” 

“How’d it go?” he said.

“Great, I think.” Then I asked, “Is there one group you really hope you get into?” 

The question hung in the air for a second as we both thought about its considerable weight. It was a very intimate ‘so, do you have a crush on anyone?’ question to ask with potentially reverberating consequences. “Yeah,” Clay said. “I really want to be in AVP. How about you?” 

“I really want to be in Hullabahoos.” 

“Well…” 

“I hope it works out!” 

“Me too!” 

For the rest of the day I was in a state of emotional tumult. I knew I’d be devastated if I didn’t make it. But I knew that my callback had gone well. But I was terrified that the Hullabahoos wouldn’t feel about me what I felt about them. I fell asleep wondering what the hell I would do if my love was unrequited. 

I woke up at 5 AM to a pack of men screaming in my bedroom. “BRANDOOON YOU MADE IT!!” I have never and will never be so instantly high. It is the best way I have ever woken up. They threw a New Guy t-shirt at me and ushered me outside to a waiting car. They blasted a Hullabahoos CD and drove me up through the morning mist to the top of Carter’s Mountain where all the Hullabahoos - plus me, Clay, Anis, Brendan, Sanford, and Charlie - were gathered. The fourth years took turns giving emotional speeches about what the group meant to them. Then we locked arms and sang ‘I’ll Be.’ 

On the drive back down, I voiced the thought that had just appeared to me: “I hope I don’t get into AVP, I’ll have to tell them sorry but no.” One of the guys said that if I had made AVP, I would know by now. “Ah,” I thought. “Well, good then.” It stung a little, but what is a drop of rain to an ocean?

I was in, baby. I was a Hullabahoo.

1. UVA is very proud of itself and has some funny nomenclature. The first ever students lived and learned in the Academical Village. We have the Lawn, not a quad, and Grounds, not a campus. The official mascot is the sabre wielding Cavalier, but the unofficial mascot is the Wahoo, a fish that can hold thrice its weight in water (we drink a lot, yippee!). And college a cappella groups tend to come up with punny or horny or rascally names. Obviously Hullabahoo is a play on the delightful word “hullabaloo.” But you didn’t need me to tell you that.