Bios
Kristen: Back in the 1950's, Marian Longenecker was in college, preparing to be a schoolteacher. She was also taking piano lessons. Jim Burkholder, headed for seminary, was studying voice. He needed an accompanist.
For the professors who put my parents together in a rehearsal room, it was just a matter of convenience – for Mom and Dad, it was magic. If I remember the story correctly, Dad's rendition of "None But The Lonely Heart," got my mom but good. They were married in 1961.
I am the youngest of their three daughters. With music not only the seminal spark to my parents' love, but more or less hard-wired into our genetic make-up, Kathy, Karen and I sang practically before we could walk. My mother adored the Von Trapps, and whether she intended it or not, our family performances looked and sounded like we were straight out of "The Sound of Music." We sang four-part harmony, sweetened by the strumming of my dad's acoustic guitar.
The Burkholder Family Singers did a lot of shows in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. When I say "shows," I mean church concerts, most of the selections sacred, with a silly assortment for later in the fellowship hall while refreshments were being served.
We were a Mennonite family, but had a surprising penchant for showmanship. My father was a pastor, and felt natural, at home, before an audience. My mother's charisma lent everything a touch of electricity. My older sisters were beautiful girls with beautiful voices.
I observed all these goings-on and discovered my niche: being the ham. I upstaged whenever possible and "gick gocked" around (a Pennsylvania Dutch phrase my mother employed to describe general tomfoolery).
I developed an unfortunate – if not richly rewarding – habit of crossing and uncrossing my eyes at kids in the audience, the effect of which I'm sure was only magnetized by my huge glasses, tiny frame, small head and bowl haircut. I looked like a cross between Woody Allen and a lawn ornament.
My peers would fall apart laughing, and then, much to my satisfaction, receive robust castigation from their parents. Ahhh, cheap laughs. Tragically, I didn't tire of this behavior for many years, until my sisters complained and my mother bribed me with chocolate so I would knock it off.
Of course, singing with my family was not just my chance to be a goofball. I loved my family dearly, loved making music with them. My parents were (and still are) superb entertainers, and they taught me wonderful things.
Mostly what stuck is how to connect: with your material ("Think about the words!"), with other performers ("Make eye contact with us while you're singing!"), with the audience ("Enunciate! Smile!").
I learned that performing is all about connection. When you're completely into your work, a sort-of heaven happens right here on earth. You feel the alchemy happening. Everyone benefits.
I was a child of the 70's, and besides being a young performer in a small town, I caught the tail end of TV's variety show era: we watched a lot of "Donny and Marie" at our house, a lot of "Lawrence Welk." I was saved from falling off the proverbial schlocky cliff when a church member introduced us to Garrison Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion" in 1981.
Yes, there were some undeniably cheesy things going on in this radio show, but for the first time in my life I heard an artful blend of sweetness and sophistication, silliness and sincerity. I perceived similarities between my own life and Keillor's vivid descriptions of his Lake Wobegon childhood, and wrote him a fan letter when I was twelve.
This started a sporadic but intensely meaningful correspondence with Keillor that nurtured me through some turbulence in my teenage years, and into my twenties.
I got a B.A. in English and theatre from Messiah College, worked briefly for The Gettysburg Times, and then moved to New England and squeaked out a graduate degree from UMass Dartmouth in professional writing.
I'm not entirely sure what happened to me during these years; I think I was more interested in trying to get married than just about anything else. Looking back, I can see why everything happened the way it did, but I'm still somewhat baffled by my own self-imposed silence.
In fact, I shrunk from spectacle, and spent a lot of time reading poetry, watching old movies and listening to the American songbook over and over again. After spending an entire childhood prancing about in the spotlight, I needed quite a few years to calm down and establish some sense of myself.
Suddenly I found myself in Maine at the turn of the century (like every other aspiring vocalist, I'm sure!), the "why" and "how" I got here being a whole other story. As I began building my massage therapy practice (in my late twenties I graduated from the Muscular Therapy Institute in Cambridge, Mass., and became a massage therapist/Reiki practitioner, and eight years into it find it a most lovable, rewarding career, one that truly saved my life), I began reconnecting to my creative gifts. First, through acting (there are many fine community theaters in Maine to regain your footing), and then, through singing.
It was Belfast that brought Martin and I together. The 15Minute Festival (a 15-minute play festival that ran 3 consecutive summers downtown) needed some entertainment for a fundraiser – we collaborated briefly but didn't think much of it, except that we had uncannily similar tastes in music.
The 2005 Belfast Maskers Variety Show brought us together again, and while we had fun we were, once again, ready to shrug it off. It took my partner, Nathan Raleigh, saying to us, "You guys should do this for real," to wake us up: maybe we did have something. Martin went out and bought a keyboard and a bunch of songbooks the next week: there was no turning back now. For that, and many many other things, I thank him.
As with most events in my life, even to the very reason why I'm here, there was – there has been – what you call it – luck? Fortune? Divine Guidance? It is, for me, a little of all those things, a tangy-sweet compote of serendipity and blessings. It makes me smile, and when Martin and I perform as Tango, that's a smile that comes straight up out of my heart. Hopefully, you can hear it in my voice.
P.S. -- After reading all this, Martin said, "What about all the acting you've done?" Alright. Some memorable experiences for me -- Catherine in "Proof" at the Belfast Maskers, directed by Wendy Schweikert; Company Member Barbara Pitts in "The Laramie Project" at Penobscot Theater, directed by John Clancy; and Woman in "Golf: The Musical" at Northport Music Theater, directed by Jason Bannister.
Most importantly: the acting, writing and singing I contribute to A New Vaudeville Revue, Waldo County's own homegrown variety show. For the past two years Ando, Peter, Jenny and I have been inflicting our hijinks on the Midcoast community, much to their amusement and occasional bewilderment. The show's taped courtesy of BCTV2, and broadcast on local cable channels all over Maine now. We even have some stuff on YouTube. (Twenty-first century, here we is.) Nothing beats a live show though. First Saturday of every month, October through May. Singers, poets, rock bands, fiddlers, mimes, kids, bellydancers, storytellers, vikings, cloggers, and french-speaking dogs. Something for everyone, in the great town of Belfast, Maine.
Martin: My mother bought the new spinet piano so my older brother could take lessons. Instead, both she and I, then seven years old, began to study. I loved earning “stickers” from my teacher for doing my lessons well; once I accumulated enough, I could trade them in for another plaster of Paris bust of a famous classical composer. Beethoven was my favorite – I loved pretending to conduct the 5th Symphony, my favorite 33 1/3 record, played on our new stereo, the first on our street in East Flatbush in Brooklyn, New York.
Back in the 50’s, Liberace had his own TV show which I loved watching. The candelabra and the sequins were so dazzling! When I asked my second and very stern piano teacher, Mrs. Horowitz (no relation to Vladimir), whether she thought he was a good pianist, she practically slammed the cover down on my fingers! But, he was a showman. I now wear a diamond ring when I perform, just to “dazzle” a bit.
My father wangled me my first public performance at a small Borscht Belt hotel in the Catskills, not far from the “resort” (read rooming house with kitchens) my grandmother operated – only about 90 miles from the City, but six hours by car back in those days. My family and their friends packed the house. I played two short pieces, one titled “Gypsy Airs” was very flashy and dramatic, got lots of applause and earned $5. I was hooked!
Although lessons stopped at age 13, I continued to play on my own, especially the show tunes of that era, by Lerner & Loewe and Rodgers & Hammerstein. I was always “washing that man right out of my hair”. Throughout high school and college in Brooklyn and Law School in Cambridge, Massachusetts, participating in choral/music groups remained on my agenda, followed by regular attendance at Boston Symphony and Boston Ballet performances. I became the music/choir director at a small UU Church in suburban Boston in the 1980’s, while pursuing my legal career as a real estate lawyer for John Hancock Financial Services in Boston. My repertoire grew by leaps and bounds, because I was responsible for playing piano for Sunday services. I also had great fun accompanying various members of our congregation (and their relatives) who either sang or played other instruments. In my mid 30’s, I decided to try my hand at the violin (you just can’t get vibrato out of a piano) and organized a chamber group at Hancock, performing several times in the employee dining room. For me, making music with others, whether instruments or voice, has always been the most rewarding part of playing the piano. The give and take, the communication with your performing partner(s), listening and being listened to, really hearing and feeling each other, is so special to me. I fondly recall playing Mozart horn concertos with a Boston friend. Even playing Christmas Carols at family gatherings each year can be fun.
And then I met Kristen in 2003 after having moved to Mid-Coast Maine. The director of a theater festival wanted to hold a fund-raiser that summer and needed some entertainment. Since it was held at my home, my Yamaha baby grand was available, so she said, “You, Martin, will play, and Kristen will sing.” We did six numbers, some of which we still perform. But it wasn’t until several years later, after a Belfast Maskers Variety Show which I emceed and at which I accompanied various performers, including Kristen, that we looked at each other and said “This was fun – we should do this for real”. We had established a connection, an understanding of each other’s talents, a respect and admiration, that continues today and grows. So we did it! I know it’s hard to believe, but even our rehearsal sessions are fun. We love being Tango, ‘cause it takes two.