J.D. Steele's north Minneapolis choir turns strangers into family

Just before 7 p.m., J.D. Steele waded through the dozens of people who'd arrived at the Capri Theater for a choir rehearsal, fist bumping a few. He grabbed a microphone.

"Welcome to Capri Glee!"

It was the first rehearsal in late March, and there was lots to do. Lyrics to learn. Parts to sort out. The concert was just six weeks away.

But Steele paused his speech once, twice, three times to give someone a hug.

Music is the focus of Capri Glee, an adult community choir led by Steele, the singer, composer, producer and member of the musical Steeles family. But hugs are, too.

For six weeks each spring and fall, dozens of experienced and not-so-experienced singers from all over the Twin Cities gather in north Minneapolis to sing, dance and hear from Steele, who between songs ruminates on community, optimism and, yes, occasionally Prince.

This spring, 107 people signed up — a record. No auditions required.

"I tell other choir directors who audition singers to send me their rejects," Steele said, laughing. "Once people start singing on a consistent basis, they get better."

The ever-in-motion 70-year-old hands out no sheet music, no lyrics. "What I try to do is get people to develop a personal relationship with the lyrics of the songs," he said.

"The thing is, you don't have to be great," said Julie Lang of Excelsior. "You just have to be into it."

The singers range in age and race. Some arrived at the first rehearsal arm-in-arm with friends, already giggling. Others were newbies who hadn't sung in a choir since high school. A few have been part of the choir since its start in 2015 — long enough to earn nicknames.

"Music has always been what makes me happy," said Rosanna Hudgins, aka the Alpha Tenor, aka the Mistress of Mischief. She sang in the state girls choir in Kansas, where she grew up, later studying opera and performing with bands.

"We're about bringing positive energy to the North Side," she said of Capri Glee. "All we tend to hear is how scary the North Side is."

So much so that a few of her bandmates, who live in the suburbs, refuse to play shows in the area, said Hudgins, 66, who lives nearby. But this chorus attracts folks from all over, giving them a new lens on the neighborhood.

"Sopranos, raise your hands!" Steele called out. The few outliers scurried over, grabbing seats with the group. "Altos!"

"You singing alto now, Cecily?" he grinned. "You go, girl!"

After warmups, Steele reminded the singers of the importance of breathing. "Also, I want you to connect your body to your heart and your soul," he said. Then he introduced the first song: "Better Love," one of his own.

"Repeat after me: 'Better love, better love/ What we don't want to do is give it up/ Gotta do what we need to do/ To make a better love.'"

He sang a melody to a section and the section sang it back. He started with the sopranos, his falsetto rich and easy. He then sang — with equal ease — the alto part, the tenor part and the bass part.

He stepped and shimmied, encouraging the group to do the same.

"You don't talk like this," he said, his arms stiff and straight at his sides. "We use our hands to talk. We should use our hands to sing."

Just a half-hour into rehearsal, all four sections were singing together.

This is one of three choirs Steele directs with his brother Fred Steele accompanying on piano. The other two, the Mill City Singers and MacPhail Community Youth Choir, will join Capri Glee at the concert Tuesday for several songs, packing the stage. His youth choir gives him the optimism he brings to his other choruses.

"They're doing fabulous things," he said.

He skips gospel, as his singers come from different backgrounds. Instead, he picks songs that "everyone can relate to ... about love and sharing and caring, the human condition."

But midway through the first rehearsal, Steele introduced "the hymns."

"Not the kind of hymns you find in a Lutheran songbook," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Behind him, Fred Steele played one chord, then another, until Steele began to sing, ever so sweetly: "I, I'm so in love with you."

The singers laughed, then joined in. Soon, the whole room was singing "Let's Stay Together."

"Whatever you want to do/ Is all right with me/ 'Cause you make me feel so brand new ... "

The choir's Black singers grew up with some songs, his white singers with others. "We listen to two different radio stations," Steele, who is Black, told the room.

But some artists, like Al Green and Sly and the Family Stone, are shared.

Steele talks with his singers, young and old, about what's going on in the world. In 2016, they gathered the night of the presidential election. In 2020, when they were meeting via Zoom, they wept over the video capturing the murder of George Floyd. On a recent night, Steele noted the killing of six people at a Nashville school.

"He will talk with us about things," said Elaine Love, 68, of Shorewood, who joined in 2015. "Nothing is outside the realm of possibility."

At first, Love was a bit intimidated by Steele, who has written, recorded or performed with Prince, Mavis Staples and Donald Fagen. "My gosh, he's an icon, a celebrity." But within half a rehearsal, that faded.

"He's so genuine, so talented, so inclusive," she said. "Everyone is welcome, and everyone is appreciated."

(Love, like several other women in the group, also noted Fred Steele's contributions. "He has an incredible deep voice," she said. "It makes a girl swoon, I tell ya.")

For most of the first rehearsal, Steele worked the room like he was performing a concert, engaging one side, then the next. He played his microphone like a trumpet. He pulled Hudgins up from her chair to dance.

To hone a harmony or tighten a rhythm, he would snap, point or shrug his shoulders.

Then, with 10 minutes left, Steele paused for the first time. He lowered the microphone and leaned back in a chair.

He told the story of how, when he was 12, his family drove from Gary, Ind., to Florida, stopping at a Tennessee gas station along the way. His father wouldn't let him use the bathroom, driving a mile down the road to another.

He never told him why.

"That happened in my lifetime," Steele said, recalling segregation in the '60s. It might not always seem that way, but things have improved in this country, he continued. If they hadn't, "I wouldn't be standing in front of you directing you."

"This is a beautifully multicultural group ... " he said, as the choir murmured. "When we sing together, it makes you feel good and the people who listen to you feel good."

One more story later, he flashed a wide, bright smile.

"So welcome. Welcome to the family. And we'll see you next week!"