I thought I knew which kind of musician I was, which also meant I knew which kind of musician I wasn’t. I was an orchestra teacher, classically trained, but not really performing anymore because (insert excuse here), hard stop. As a kid, I had a Beatles shirt for every day of the week. I loved the harmonies, the symphonic nature of it all. I loved to sing, but would get so nervous singing in front of people that what came out was a choked, breathy mess. I wanted to be a classical violist and the 5th Beatle the way that kids want to be both an astronaut and a mermaid. 

My husband, Josh, navigated the transition from aspiring classical pianist to real world teacher/performer better than I did. He was even in a band! He worked on songs and I would add harmonies, suggest lyrics. Pop music was my love, but this was his thing, until, just like my Beatles, his band disbanded. With a collection of songs that he and I had worked on together and deposit already down at a studio we needed to do something. 

Josh suggested, in 90’s rom-com fashion, that I “was the bandmate he was missing all along.” I wasn’t convinced. Being in a band was literally a dream come true, but I didn’t write music and I certainly didn’t sing it. He saw my musicianship as something more comprehensive than I did. He also recorded me singing into his phone. It wasn’t bad. If it wasn’t me, I would listen to it. We reworked the songs in our image, adding vocal harmony and viola. We named the band after my grandma, Stella Hill. We wrote string parts (because orchestra rules) and, for our album release performance, my Webster colleagues played with us. 

We didn’t have to be whatever we thought we were.

Elizabeth Ristow

Music Teacher

Klem South Elementary

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