You're on Mute: How We Stayed Loud During the Quietest Year

The Last In-Person Rehearsal 

In March 2020, like everyone else, we thought we were getting a two-week break. Our rehearsal space told us not to come back for a bit, so I invited twelve people into my one-bedroom Philadelphia apartment for rehearsal. It was chaotic. There were folding chairs in the kitchen, someone warming up in the bathroom, and definitely not enough space for that many vocalists. I have a photo from that day, but I look aggressively unflattering in it, so don’t expect to see it.

Our Virtual Pivot 

After that first week, we knew it wasn’t going to be temporary. We had just gotten our footing as a group, and we were far too new to risk losing momentum. If we wanted Noteworthy to survive, we needed to pivot—hard, fast, and intentionally.

So we moved rehearsal to Zoom. Same day. Same time. Just different room(s).

Zoom Rehearsal, Our Way 

We kept our format: some casual chatting while people logged on, then warm-ups led by either myself or another group leader. Everyone sang along from home, muted of course. After warmups, whichever exec was teaching shared their screens to teach arrangements part by part, scrolling through our notation software and playing audio straight from our laptops. Zoom’s audio settings didn’t always cooperate, and I learned the hard way that my fancy Blue Yeti mic had its own mute button that I regularly forgot about. So many passionate soliloquies unheard.

One of our favorite running gags during this time? A member's kid whose name we kept forgetting. We were sure it started with a "C," but instead of getting it right, the name devolved into a long-running group joke. We called him everything from Chewbacca to Chalupa Batman to Chrysanthemum to, most famously, Charizard. (We might need to put that full list on a T-shirt.)

Rehearsals weren’t perfect. People joined from all kinds of home setups. Sometimes they were in bed. Sometimes they were off camera. We encouraged people to stay present and on screen when they could, but life was messy. Kids needed attention. Partners made dinner. Appointments overlapped. We adapted. But we never stopped.

Building the Scratch Track System 

One of our biggest innovations during this time was the creation of weekly scratch tracks. Every Friday, members would submit audio recordings of what we’d just learned in rehearsal. These weren’t polished, but they let us compile a draft version of the arrangement so everyone could hear how it was coming together. It was a way to stay accountable and track progress week by week.

To make that happen, I developed a system: I’d record each part myself—soprano, alto, tenor, bass, sometimes vocal percussion—and align them to build a "perfect" mock-up of the arrangement. When members sent in their tracks, I lined theirs up to mine and cut, adjusted, and stitched together a version that reflected what the arrangement was supposed to sound like. It became a valuable teaching tool and laid the groundwork for what came next: music videos.

Music in the Time of Chaos 

We didn’t set out to become a virtual music video group—but once we started, we couldn’t stop. Our first attempts were total shots in the dark. Dancing on My Own by Robyn was a raw, early pandemic pick, filmed solo in our bedrooms and edited together as best we could. Alive by Krewella came next, complete with an “angst” theme that honestly matched the mood of 2020, perhaps a little too well. bad guy by Billie Eilish was our next foray into concept-based videos—costumes, props, and yes, a Star Wars cameo, because why not?

When the holidays rolled around, we started to get more ambitious. We released a cover of Glee’s cover of Last Christmas by Wham!, There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays, and Hilary Duff’s version of Sleigh Ride—which, notably, featured our first ever “Featured Friend” vocalist, Aimee Goldstein. This was the beginning of what would become a full campaign to invite remote collaborators into our world. Underneath the Tree by Kelly Clarkson became a bit of an obsession for the group, and Little Saint Nick by the Beach Boys was a callback to our very first season as an ensemble.

We branched out into small group features, too. 8 Days a Week was an a cappella Hanukkah arrangement by Lauren Waksman. Love Is Christmas, Run Run Rudolph, The Christmas Song, and Love is an Open Door featured piano or instrumental accompaniment—something we felt gave members more opportunities to share different skills. In the new year, we put out even more holiday-adjacent videos like Phil Collins’ version of You Can’t Hurry Love for Valentine’s Day, Mama by the Spice Girls for Mother’s Day, and Boy by Lee Brice for Father’s Day.

All of this started with scratch tracks. All of it happened in living rooms and kitchens, without professional lighting or sound booths. And all of it helped us build the foundation for the way we still share our music today.

Remote Auditions, Real Commitment 

We transitioned to the digital sphere so thoroughly that even auditions happened virtually. Our SEO and SEM game had quietly been leveling up, and it was already paying off. Nearly every new member found us through Google. Auditions involved video submissions, range demos, and a live solo over Zoom—a process that helped us find some of our most committed and long-standing members to date.

Some stayed. Some didn’t. We gained wonderful singers like Jackie Pieroni, who stayed with us for years, and others like Katie Pierce who joined just before the pandemic and are still here today. Others joined and ghosted. Some disappeared without a goodbye. And some stuck around for the social but never came back once things got real again. Our former Creative Director used to say, “Adults commit to the things they want to do.” And at the end of the day, we always knew who wanted to do this with us.

Keeping the Culture Alive 

Outside of rehearsals and videos, we even kept up our sense of fun. We hosted virtual Jeopardy games, created custom Scattergories, and ran a Drink-Talk-Learn night where members gave tiny PowerPoints about ridiculous things. That might have been the most chaotic Zoom ever hosted, and I personally loved it.

We also held our first internal music workshop series, featuring a former colleague and Philadelphia-based music educator who led music theory sessions for members newer to reading sheet music. These workshops planted the seeds for the more robust educational and mentorship programming we offer today.

Not Everything Landed—And That’s Okay 

Not everything we tried during the pandemic was a hit. We hosted two virtual concerts with low attendance. They’re still online, and we’re proud of the work, but livestreaming isn’t our top priority for now. That said, the infrastructure we developed—digital switchboards, streaming software, recording techniques—gave us a new toolkit we could use whenever we so choose. Who knows?

What We Built Endured 

Most of what we do now—from onboarding, to rehearsal structure, to video production, to our Featured Friends campaign—was born during the pandemic. It gave us time to ask big questions, address lingering interpersonal issues, and create policies that have shaped our growth into a legitimate nonprofit.

Looking Back 

If I could go back and tell March 2020-me anything, it would be: “This won’t be forever.” I’d also say, “You are a good leader. Trust yourself.”

We didn’t just survive. We built something. Something that’s still standing. Something that grew in the dark and continues to bring light.

We stayed loud when the world went quiet. And we’re not done yet.