When Naomi Jackson first auditioned for the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir in 1984, she was a music teacher in New Castle looking for something that belonged just to her. She spent her days shaping young musicians and guiding rehearsals, but she missed performing. When she saw the audition notice in the newspaper, she felt both drawn to it and slightly intimidated. The name alone carried weight. The Indianapolis Symphonic Choir was not simply another community ensemble; it represented a level of artistry that, at the time, felt just beyond her reach.
“I remember thinking, this is a really big thing,” she says. “I’m just this little person from a small town, and here I am auditioning for the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir.”
She auditioned anyway.
She was accepted, and not long after, she persuaded her husband, Brad, to try as well. Their first performance was Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony at the reopening of the Circle Theatre. The choral parts were memorized. No scores on stage. For two singers just beginning their journey with the organization, it was a formidable way to start.
At the time, rehearsals were held on the north side of Indianapolis. Naomi was driving more than an hour each way from New Castle, navigating 465 several nights a week. Brad has often said that part of his decision to audition was practical: if she was going to commit that kind of time and travel, he wanted to share it. What began as logistical support quickly became a shared pursuit.
Brad was not formally trained as a musician, something he says without hesitation. What he possessed was a strong ear, a natural choral tone, and a willingness to work. At home, preparation became a partnership. CDs of Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis and Mendelssohn’s Elijah, and other large works, rotated through the car stereo as they drove to rehearsals. Naomi would sit at the piano and walk through Brad’s part measure by measure, clarifying entrances and rhythms until the music felt settled. By the time they stepped on stage, they were ready.
“When it’s time for dress rehearsal,” Brad says, “it’s go time.”
For eight years, they shared the same stage, their voices blending even when they weren’t standing shoulder to shoulder. Naomi continued for twelve years before career demands pulled her away. Still, singing never left either of them. Music remained part of their everyday rhythm.
Long before Naomi’s return to the ensemble, she and Brad were carrying music into other corners of the community. In 1999, along with their accompanist Tom, they began performing at senior living communities across central Indiana. They developed themed programs—Valentine’s concerts, patriotic selections, Broadway sets, holiday music—carefully choosing repertoire that would be familiar and meaningful to their audiences. They do not charge. They bring their own equipment. They consider it service.
When Naomi retired in June of 2023, she already knew what she wanted to do next. Years later, she had told herself that once retirement came, she would re-audition. Even so, the audition still gave her butterflies. After decades away from the ensemble, she wondered whether her voice would still meet the standard.
“There was a little bit of doubt,” she admits. “Do I still have it? Am I still good enough to make the cut?”
She was.
Her return has reaffirmed what drew her to the choir in the first place: artistic excellence. Under the direction of Dr. Eric Stark, expectations are unmistakably high. Yet what resonates with her is the choir’s level of excellence. Rehearsals are rigorous, but never demeaning.
“He sets a very high expectation,” Naomi says, “but he does it in a way that makes you want to get there.”
The repertoire continues to stretch her emotionally and musically. The final measures of Messiah still bring her close to tears. Beethoven’s Ninth carries the same power it did in 1984. More recently, performing Considering Matthew Shepard left a profound imprint. The smaller ensemble fostered closeness among the singers, and the work itself demanded emotional presence.
“It was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience,” she reflects. “We all worked so hard. We were so connected to it.”
From the audience’s perspective, Brad notices something equally meaningful. He sees longtime concertgoers who know every note sitting beside first-time attendees encountering symphonic choral music for the first time. He hears the collective intake of breath at the end of a movement, the quiet before applause.
“You can feel it in the room,” he says. “They realize they’re hearing something special.”
That response, he believes, has been consistent from the earliest days of their involvement with the choir until now. The Indianapolis Symphonic Choir has always had the capacity to move people deeply.
Through every season, music has been a constant thread in their marriage. The Indianapolis Symphonic Choir has marked chapters of that story: the boldness of young auditions, the rigor of memorized masterworks, the return after years away, and the renewed sense of honor in being part of something larger than oneself.
When Naomi tells people she sings with the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir, she still notices the reaction.
“There’s a little bit of cachet,” she says with a smile. “People say, ‘Oh.’”
For her, that recognition is less about prestige and more about belonging to something that strives for excellence while remaining deeply rooted in community.
After more than four decades, the music still moves them. It still demands preparation. It still surprises them. And it still binds their lives together in harmony.
The music never really ends; it carries forward through programs like Voices of the Spirit and In-Choir-Ing Minds, where song becomes healing, learning, and connection. Learn how you can support and experience the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir’s work here.
