A Love Letter to Take Five

Experiencing the the vibrant a cappella scene on campus.

By Mia Huerta '25
Date

Under the amber light of a street lamp, the north end of campus was painted in the soft colors of dusk. The hums of cicadas in late August were the only sounds amongst the nervous silence of my callback group. I’d auditioned for a music group on campus before, but this was my first time nervously running lyrics outside a New Apartment. My two best friends joined Kenyon’s jazz a cappella group called Take Five for our freshman year. After hearing all their fun stories about the group last year and experiencing some of the vibrant a cappella scene on campus, I felt compelled to audition.

I’d done choir for as long as I could remember, but  had never really sung solos, much less in front of eight college students that I somewhat knew. Fumbling with the piano app on my phone like the other six students also auditioning, I tried to find the right starting note for my song. Softly humming the tune of “Autumn Leaves” by Nat King Cole grounded me. In my mind, I heard the voice of my dad from our call earlier that day encouraging me to sing one of his favorite jazz standards. 

“If you just adjust the key for your soprano voice, it’ll sound great!”

“I don’t know dad, what if everyone does this song?” I remember asking nervously.

“So what? Take your time with it, sink into the melody. Have fun with it and you’ll catch someone’s attention in the audition, I promise you.” 

In the end, I had been right — at least two other guys did the same song as me. But I loved the feeling of singing and learning jazz songs alongside the experienced group for my callback. A couple hours later, I got a strange knock on my dorm door. Apparently, there was another mini-audition I had to do. The president of the group profusely apologized the whole way back to the New Apt, saying that this normally never happened this late and that it was going to be very quick. The grogginess of sleep quickly wore off as I started panicking over what to sing for them (again!) and if this meant that they really liked my callback. I was settled back into the apartment with three other unfamiliar faces, who all looked as nervous and confused as I was. But before we could sing or perform, all of the group members surprised us with the great news: we had made it into Take Five. 

"I was almost surprised by my own calm when I walked up to the mic, still and smiling. Behind me, Take Five launched into the melodic intro for my song and with a deep, steadying breath I filled the empty air with the Spanish words of heartache and desperation that I had been practicing for so many months and listening to for so many years."

Mia Huerta '25

Since that first night, the nerves and confusion have thankfully waned, but those vulnerable anxieties that I had outside that New Apt so long ago still bubble in me whenever I go on stage with the group. In our most recent concert, I had the privilege of singing my first solo with the group, but with it came the paralyzing fear of singing by myself on a stage for the first time in my life. Between the swinging rhythms of “Hit the Road Jack” and snappy renditions of jazz standards, each song floated through the chamber of Rosse Hall seamlessly, but the anxiety of anticipating my song (which was second to last) kept thudding in my chest the closer and closer we got to the end of our set. 

I was almost surprised by my own calm when I walked up to the mic, still and smiling. Behind me, Take Five launched into the melodic intro for my song and with a deep, steadying breath I filled the empty air with the Spanish words of heartache and desperation that I had been practicing for so many months and listening to for so many years. It was “Tu falta de querer” by Mon Laferte. I knew from the moment I pitched the song that it would be a perfect fit for my voice. Sinking into the familiar ebb and flow of rolled r’s and soft vowels, I fell deeply into the crooning harmonies of the song, enchanted by the warm feeling bursting through me.

Lilting my tone and voice away from the melody and coming back to it in mere seconds sent a small thrill through me and I hoped I hadn’t imagined the captivated gazes from some of the crowd. I belted the last anguished line through Rosse and the beat of silence after the last note dissipated into loud applause and cheers. I turned back to the faces of my friends that only eight months ago were mostly intimidating strangers to me and felt a bloom of pride as we finished up our spring concert. 

My dad was right (as he normally is). I had fun with Take Five in that New Apt. so long ago, and I still do, whether it be through late night tech rehearsals or at our chaotic weekly dinners at Peirce. I’m forever grateful that I took every chance, regardless of the risks, to put myself out there this year. I couldn’t have asked to share the stage with a better group.