End of an era

Goodness knows what we'll do without our Diva.



Claire joined us in 2005, narrowly avoiding a photo op after Kay's wedding (John's editing skills out in force there!). A trip to sunny Arran and AnnaLauren's rather exciting wedding reception sped by and then Christmas was upon us once again.

2006 was one of Rudsambee's busiest years: Rachael's wedding (where they seemed to book a stand-up comedian rather than a priest) and a trip to Rosslyn in April; May saw us in the Portrait Gallery and then off up north for a wee tour of the Highlands; in July we sang at a stranger's wedding (not only will we sing into a bucket for money, we will even to weddings), and then in September disaster struck. Back when 'Diva' was a term we only used in jest, our proto-blogstress complained of odd chest pains one evening and left rehearsal early. This turned out to be a blood clot in her lung which had her in hospital while they beat her up with drugs and then left her unable to sing for a while. Any excuse...

In order to keep her amused some Rudsamblets decided to make a wee newsletter, which got a little bit out of hand:

Then after a concert in aid of Bethany, having successfully coerced the choir into doing the whole second half of a concert without music, Frances - who had been Musical Director for as long as she cared to remember - announced that she would be abandoning us stepping down gracefully after Christmas. Which led to another mock newsletter:

In the meantime she managed to coach us through a concert in Cockermouth with Piping Hot, a gig at the Biggar Festival and five(!) Christmas concerts - even managing two in one day!

2007 saw a change of leadership, with Maestro Boy taking the poisoned chalice helm and breaking with the matriarchal line. With the loss of Frances' Alto voice to the budding Moaning Wild Myrtles and Christina's Soprano to a dodgy inner ear, the new captain brought in Claire2 and Helen to fill the spaces. Helen became wonderfully dual-purpose as her studies gave her the know-how and equipment to record and master our next CD, what are they doing?.



Mr Singleton's first public gig as Director, in the Portrait Gallery, saw a demand for more encores than we had ready - leading to a now notorious "hard cheese" remark to the audience. A quick social visit from some friendly Norwegians and a short set at the French Institute passed without trouble before the new Director's mettle was further tested by Svatobor visiting us from the Czech Republic; 40ish visitors being entertained and fed by the choir for three days, ending with a joint concert in the Canongate Kirk. It was at this concert that we attempted Ernst Toch's Geographical Fugue which went better than might be expected but was perhaps a little too hair-raising to bear up under many performances.

The Wexlers, host to our noise and rabble and two of the oldest longest-serving members, celebrates a retirement, a birthday and an anniversary; the boss managed to lead us in a few songs despite beign more than a little tipsy. Rudsambee's first full concert under new leadership was in Whithorn, followed soon after by a Scottish-songs-only concert in Juniper Green! Christmas came as a welcome respite, even when we were pitted againt proper celebs in Glasgow Cathedral (where Maestro Boy and his cohorts had difficulty keeping straight faces during cries of "GABRIEL!").

2008 came around and Claire2 took her mandatory Clare-in-Hospital break, leading to another newsletter!

And of course, 2008 also saw the arrival of Relative Pitch, which our dear Diva has meticulously updated week by week to keep the fans (hello? Anyone out there?) entertained with our antics - so there's not much to be said that hasn't already been blogged with more hysteria...

BAI DIVA!

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye

So I begin my final post. Last will and testament and all that. You should be reading a fun-filled story of Rudsambee in Cranshaws. However, we didn't make it, beaten by the snowy weather. We got as far as Meadowbank, Helen and co as far as Cameron Toll and Anne (very wisely) decided to stay at home. The snow turned to slush and has now frozen solid (I've just slid about during a wee trip to Granton for ice-cream - yes, you hear right). Friendly Dave in Cranshaws made the final call and we (and I'm sure the inhabitants of Cranshaws) went home disappointed. In order to organise all this chopping and changing, we used the obligatory mobile phones, wondering what on earth we did before the invention of the cell, as our American friends would have it. At one point all four of us in Alison's car were on the phone. This engendered some funny cross-lines conversations.

The Rudsambeelets went, instead, to Claire 2's for mulled wine. A-L even had time to make spectacular chocolate brownie. I then, as per tradition, had the joy (tearful joy) of having the Irish Blessing sung to me as this is last time I will officially be a Rudsambeelet. Blogstress is off to the sunnier climes of England and the beautiful wee city of Lincoln. We are, of course, very excited about the move, but there are a number of things we will miss a lot. I have loved my four and a half years in Rudsambee. Thanks to all the fantastic Rudsambeelets for your friendship and for the chance to sing in probably the most talented mixed voice acappella 'company of singers' ever to have graced the back room carpet of Chez Wexler.

So I never got to cry my way through a final version of O Magnum Mysterium though I did shed a wee tear during the Irish Blessing and my round of hugs. I move from Blogstress to chief supporter and groupie, and hang up my blog 'pen' of wit and wonderment. Thanks for reading. In line with the long-expected change of Dr Who this Christmas, I will be handing the keyboard to a new (probably somewhat improved) Blogstress.

So off I go in my TARDIS to new challenges and new galaxies...

Hugs, love and muchos thanks to all. Here's to a happy, blessed New Year.
What larks!

CSW

Rudsambee Christmas Party

Morning Blog Fans, and morning bleary-eyed Rudsambeelets. It was our annual Rudsambee Christmas Party last night and as usual there was much fun, banter and FOOD. Goodness, the Rudsambeelets know how to put on a spread. We even got to take potatoes home with us after Mr Wexler bought a whole bag (and I mean a sack!) from Costco for under a fiver (other reasonably priced sacks of root vegetables are available). Susan's summer pudding and Jenny's Banoffee were a welcome treat, as was a certain Blogstress's cheesecake...



I could fill you in on the Rudsambee chatter but, to be honest, most of it didn't make much sense to us let alone to anyone else! Suffice to say our conversation touched on such varied topics as A-L's wonderful green hat, gender politics, the problem of dyslexia (and other Greek/Latin (?) words) and, in the most random moment of the night, the merits of Michael Buble serving us red cabbage goulash.



Since the blogstress is currently packing her bags (or at least should be packing her bags) for her move to the Promised Land (I joke, of course!) Jen led a very jolly "ode to blogstress" which made me go red and feel sad/happy. I got lots of wonderful little prezzies and a gorgeous painted penguin (as decorated by our resident Tony Hart herself, Claire 2) which I have named Tormis in honour of my favourite Estonian composer. Thank you Jen, Claire and all the Rudsambeelets for making me feel so special.



I would imagine that Editor Boy will put up some photos at some stage for your perusal so you'll be able to see us all in our glad rags including Maestro Boy who wore Long Johns (amongst other clothing items) and Kay who wore a fabulous dress that was £8 from a charity shop - bonza!



So one concert left before I hang up my, hmm... not sure what one hangs up if one is a singer. Perhaps my folder, or my red scarf? See you in Cranshaws. I'm hoping for snow!

CSW

Two posts in a day - some kind of record!

After Chris' entertaining diversion, service resumes for two last posts from this Blogstress. Just to say a big thank you to all who came to Augustine's last night. We had a great time and the audience were, as always, very encouraging. There were a few exciting moments as always - me and A-L decided to make up the last bit of 'In Dulci' for no particular reason and the 'Miserere' was just a tad on the 'super-scary-rollercoster' side for our liking. But generally the whole thing went off very well.

We missed Anne who decided not to sing after spending some weeks fighting her sore throat. We really missed her, but if she ever decides to give up being an all round cleverclogs she could become a washer-upper!

So one more concert to go down in beautiful Cranshaws. We are, as always, looking forward to catching up with you guys again.

CSW

You can't say *%&*#$&* on the radio

Blogstress and Maestro Boy, as you may have heard, featured on Leith FM a few days ago. Using all the powers of the digital age (and a handy Alto's husband) we can now present to you THE INTERVIEW:



[EDIT: Internet Explorer apparently breaks this player and people have reported problems with it; I'll try to get it sorted later, but in the meantime you can access the audio file here.]

If the LeithFM-ers object (they don't have an archive on the website - shocking!) just let us know.

Meanwhile, we are one concert away from the illustrious Blogstress's swan song. Yes, she's abandoning us. We will surely come up with a way to keep the blog fans happy but there may be a break in service...

Back to Priestfield

Last night was our Christmas Priestfield concert which is always a very jolly affair. A good few Rudsambeelets were running a little late last night (including Maestro Boy so he couldn't even give us a row!) and I now remember why I don't wear high heels regularly, after running from University to Dalkeith Rd. However, the rehearsal went off without a hitch.

There are two particularly jolly things about singing at Priestfield. 1) the people are just so friendly - they always smile at us (in an encouraging 'we like what we are hearing' sort of way rather than in sympathetic pity) and 2)there is always a cup of tea at the interval. In fact the interval at Priestfield is always so chilled out (there are even biscuits!) that generally the Rudsambeelets have to forcibly gear themselves for the second half!

The whole concert went rather well I thought, though you'd have to ask the audience. It is always a laid back affair (mostly due to the sweetness of the audience) and there is lots of laughter on and off the stage. Particular hilarity reserved for Deck the Hall (singular) yesterday...wait 'til Saturday night!

Oh, did you catch Leith FM on Monday night? Blogstress and Maestro Boy were live across the airwaves for all of ten minutes. I think we managed to say everything we needed to, once we'd worked out which Saturday night we were singing - we could hear Anne screaming (not literally of course, her voice isn't that loud - Balerno to Leith is a fair whack!) "this Saturday, THIS Saturday!"

You'll get another post on Saturday/Sunday/whenever the Blogstress has a spare moment, to fill you in on the concert at Augustine's. Do come along if you are free. If you saw the St Giles' concert then come to this one too. Not only will you have the pleasure of hearing O Magnum Mysterium again, but you will also have the chance to hear the Rudsambeelets sing in Polish, do a bit of modern American jazz, attempt a 'seat-of-your-pants' Vitoria number and enjoy a new piece called Trees of the Field which, as Kay pointed out in her introduction last night, is a song "about trees in... a field". [Chris says: And don't forget the two Divas' special!]

Until then
CSW

A Night at St Giles

Evening blog fans. It's a Sunday and I'm writing a fantabulous post for Relative Pitch, so it can only mean that we had a concert tonight. So it was the first in our Christmas series - St Giles at 6.

As always we had a great audience. In fact the place was packed and we even sold two CDs before the concert! The couple bought the recording on the basis of our 4pm rehearsal. That's proper showbiz - only the big bands sell merchandise before the gig. Lots of familiar faces in the audience including the entirety of the blogstress' family on the first three rows.

But as always it's the behind the scenes goss that the blog fans really want. So, I realised at 11pm last night that I was missing two whole pieces of music! Susan, of course, saved the day by bringing a couple of new copies. But, you ask, who made the biggest mistake of the night? Did Angus forget to bring the right shirt again? Did Maestro Boy lift his eyebrows a little too frequently (see numerous earlier posts)? Well, the culprit was Rudsambee's resident Whitacre wannabe Jen who brought the regulation black shoes... but two completely different black shoes. Genius!

So how did the concert go? Well, I must say very well. We even managed to crack the jazzy bit of Deck the Hall much to Maestro Boy's evident surprise. His face was an absolute picture - such pride... and astonishment! Everyone clapped a lot (after the whole concert not just for Deck the Hall...even though it was great) which I always think is an encouraging sign.

If you are a Rudsambee groupie (and who, I ask, isn't?) you can even hear us on the radio tomorrow night. Check out me and Maestro Boy as we become the radio stars that video certainly didn't kill. 9pm on Leith FM. Fantastish! Our second concert is Wednesday night at Priestfield Church on Dalkeith Rd. And then, of course, we have the full shebang (not just the abbreviated version you got tonight, folks) next Saturday night at Augustine Church on George IV Bridge. Blimey, how can you keep up! Apologies, btw, for performing at three venues where parking is virtually impossible. Not intentional.

Do check us out at some stage this Christmas. Oh, and a CD makes an excellent Christmas present - compact, easy to wrap, provides entertainment beyond boxing day and won't make you fat. Brillig.

CSW

"There are some questions not to ask 2 days before a concert" (A Grindley)

I realise that recently I have begun a number of posts with an inspiring word from Anne. Well last night, given that Maestro Boy was sunning himself on a beach somewhere (actually I don't know where he was but in this grotty Edinburgh weather I felt that it would be understandable if Our Great Leader was soaking up the rays) Anne took over the reins. While the cat's away...

So this blog post will mostly be an ode to Anne as she really is most quotable. So!

"You have lots of men behind you" - how nice! Anne addressing the problem of loud basses, I think.

"You had your own 'D'" - Anne to the tenors in the 'Huron Carol'

"We'll take a quick run through St Giles" - sweatbands on ladies and gents!

Brilliant! Anne did a wonderful job of leading us and we behaved ourselves even though the supply teacher was in. So it was onwards and upwards as we had our last rehearsal before the Christmas season. It all went rather well really. A few issues here and there. We confirmed the long-held assumption that Rudsambee-lets, a) cannot dance and b) have no rhythm, by rehearsing the stamp in the 'Apple Tree Wassail' which caused great hilarity all round. We are 'bish!

Sunday is our next stop so please join us at St Giles at 6 for a fun and free 40 minutes or so. Always a great concert. So see you then.

I've just finished my final teaching of the term (and indeed at Edinburgh) so I'm off to have a cuppa to celebrate. See you later.

CSW

"When I didn't look at the music it sounded fine" (Mrs A Grindley)

Another classic opening quote from Anne there. Lots of funny little moments on Wednesday night actually - it was comedy night chez Wexler. So the small group spent some time on Ms Fardell's 'Shepherd's Call' (we so have Miserere down - more rehearsal time entirely unnecessary!). The men have a wonderful line - "we are fearless men" - except that they sang it at first like wussy men. A bit of umph added and the Rudsambee men really did sound "fearless" (scary?). Ms Fardell also noted a small piece of poetic license - the line is as follows (ahem): "they are honest shepherds protecting their sheep, why torment them as they sleep". Sleeping shepherds protecting sheep? Hmm...

There was much mention of Moog synthesisers which delighted the blogtress who was reminded of a good Moog in action from Oliver Wakeman (yes, it is his son) at the Yes gig last week. Maestro Boy wanted us to all come in as if we were Moogs - I'll leave that to your imagination. We also did a bit of work on breathing. Sebastian's best comment of the night? "I can hold my breath". Well done son, you can now attempt your 50m swimming badge and you can even try it without armbands.

Back to 'Hey Hey Lily' last night as well. Now, have you ever noticed how similar this piece is to that Music Hall classic, 'Oh I do like to be beside the seaside'? Separated at birth methinks. This is the one with "rock the baby" though this year we are aiming for a slightly less vigorous 'rock' than in previous years.

We also sang through 'Oh Little Town of Bethlehem'. Now, this is such a well-known song that we can have a tendency to just bash through it without much thought. So Maestro Boy encouraged us to think about what we are singing. Sebastian's slightly overblown yet highly emotive performance (with hand movements no less) brought a new perspective to this Christmas carol. As it is my last Christmas with Rudsambee I get to do anything I want (within reason of course, no lasers or guitar riffs I don't think...although...) so am singing the descant - huzzah!

On so on to Maestro Boy's comment of the night (the much coveted 'comment of the night award' was shared this week): "for runs you need to make your nose vibrate". What on earth!? That one certainly doesn't need any further explanation.

And so I am off to sunny (one hopes) Lincoln this weekend. Don't try to rob the house - I've left a large Scotsman in charge!

CSW

Back at Priestfield

Afternoon bloggets.
Oh the weather outside is frightful but a couple of minutes reading Relative Pitch is so delightful. Ain't it just? So a quick run down on Wednesday night. As the post title would suggest we returned to Priestfield to bash out Lauridsen sans soft furnishing.

The warm up was a very jolly affair led by Claire 2. Looking rather like to tragic aftermath of a battle scene, the Rudsambeelets lay on the floor (attempting to subtly move away from those with sweaty feet) and rested with some breathing exercises. How nice!

This evening Maestro Boy asked us to imagine we were singing to the "humunculi" (his word, not mine) at the back i.e. the sweet deaf little old ladies. Helps with projection don't ye know.

So onwards and upwards with Christmas music. Lots of wassailing last night. An admission on my part - I have never, ever got this song right yet...and I must have performed it a good 4 times. I endeavour to break the rut this year. John made a comment about the ox and Jenny laughed a lot so my assumption is that Monsieur Wexler made an unintended statement of intent and Jennifer managed to find a smidgeon of innuendo...that is my guess.

Had a funny old moment with 'Deck the Hall'. One of the sopranos always sings of multiple halls and, of course, the 's' is very obvious. Even yesterday we greedily requested enough 'bells and holly' to deck a number of halls. Cue exasperated lifted eyebrows all round. It doesn't help that Maestro Boy continually gets it wrong!

So on we go to Christmas. I have a candle lit in the house and I'm going to make hot chocolate this evening - it must be winter! As an aside (and because I always sneakily slip in my music choices) we saw the wonderment of Yes last night at the newly painted Usher Hall. My verdict on the new improved building? The toilets are odd. They resemble that corridor in Orwell's '1984', you know, the one where Winston is tortured. Very weird indeed. Gig brilliant!

Until next week

CSW

Happy 100th birthday to Relative Pitch

Yes, to to blow my own trumpet for a moment, this is indeed the 100th post on 'Relative Pitch'; that's 100 moments of sartorial brilliance and unexpected randomness...or something like that. So Wednesday night was a run through a number of pieces we are doing for our Christmas concerts. By now the Rudsambeelets are beginning to wander around in comedy Santa hats and beginning to write their wish-list letters to the Big Man.

And so it was back to 'Deck the Halls' which we are attempting properly this year. Maestro Boy encouraged us to (and I quote) "make it sound ridiculous". We never need to be asked twice of course. The aim was to give it a bit of life. This version of 'Deck the Halls' is a bit of a comedy take on an old favourite anyways. As I have probably mentioned before (there have been 100 posts you know) each part is encouraged to sing in peculiar ways e.g. 'teasing', 'inviting' etc. We decided to make our own Rudsambeelet versions so the basses need to be 'beery' and the tenors should be 'coarse'. The men, of course, did admirably.

We also returned to 'Susser de Glocken Nie Klingen' which led to Rachel's humorous and, indeed, insightful comment, "what is the final chord supposed to be?" A question that, I must admit, took about four hours to answer. The sopranos have a very easy final sequence i.e. even easy by soprano standards i.e. one note, the same note. So, to be honest, we didn't really appreciate the horrors of the final chord for the rest of the Rudsambeelets. It is very tough indeed but, as usual, we cracked it before the end. Huzzah!

And so we press on with Christmas excitement. Tickets are now out and are selling only slightly less quickly than those for the last U2 concert. Get them quick fans. We are going to do Mrs Fardell's 'Shepherd's Call' with dynamics and everything this Wednesday. What larks!

CSW

Visits from old friends

Evening all (as the policeman said). Well, Mirren, Peter and baby Aiden came to visit last night. Just like old times...except with the added small boy. Lovely to see you folks. So, of course, the Rudsambeelets were highly distracted all evening. My ultimate favourite moment of the night was when Mirren placed baby in Maestro Boy's arms for the photograph. Cue hilarious, slightly hysterical panicked look from our Great Leader.



Well, I was doing official notes last night so the blog notes were slightly less extensive than usual. However we did have a very enjoyable, self-help warmup from Maestro Boy who led us in a breathing chant..."I am a strong, confident woman". Very entertaining and said with particular vigour by our strong, confident men.

The general consensus last night was that it is virtually impossible to ever leave Rudsambee (I'm going to try and prove that wrong come January but that is a story for another day). Angus pointed out that one could commit suicide... which seems a little dramatic. Maestro Boy's top comment of the night was to the small group singing 'Noel Nouvelet' when he asked us to sing 'p-ish'. Obviously he meant quiet-ish but it did leave us wondering.

One person who was singing very 'low-ish' last night was Monsieur Wexler who sings an incredible note in 'Run Toboggan Run'. The very foundations of Chez Wexler shook. We also sang 'Deck the Halls'. We've tried this before... I emphasise the word 'tried'. Last night it began to sound like a real piece of music and we even started to sort out the jazzy, syncopated bit. We have decided against the cadenza which brings a new meaning to the word 'cheese'. So currently we just stop without any resolution and leave it hanging in the...

Momentous moment? We sang a new piece by a certain J Fardell Esquiress. It's all about shepherds and is very jolly and a little clashy... intentionally clashy, I mean. Just note bashed it last night but it'll sound great when we've cracked it. I have great hopes for this up and coming composer. Remember you heard the name here first folks.

And so Christmas rehearsals continue and I am tempted to hang a bit of tinsel out, or at least place a snow globe strategically on the mantlepiece.

Have a marvellous weekend.

CSW

'Halfway through you just...lose it' (Mrs A Grindley)

The above quotation was heard during last week's rehearsal with reference to our gentlemen. Anne (who as everybody knows is musician extraordinaire) sat in the corner feeling ill and took on the Andrew-Lloyd-Webber-in-that-Sound-of-Music-reality-show role of commenting when the mood took (sorry, that grammar feels a little weird). In fact illness had taken a firm grip on the Rudsambeelets and we were seriously depleted last Wednesday.

Apologies for the delay in posting this week. My precious MacBook has been to the Mac Doctors and has come back today feeling much better with a clean screen and a working microphone. So I have only just looked at my notes from last week which are virtually indecipherable.

However, I will struggle on as best I can. Well we began with proper Christmas and the 'Apple Tree Wassail'. It is a jolly one and we did it without words (or at least with words but without them in front of us, if you get what I mean). We started, as Maestro Boy put it, with the men and the 'manly women'. Actually we did pretty well remembering it though the sopranos realised that there was a particular line that we have never sung right...not ever. Shock horror! We'll crack it this year though folks.

Much to my Mother's delight, we are doing the Lauridsen 'O Magnum Mysterium'. This is in my top five Rudsambee tunes and again our abilities for recollection were pretty impressive. This is a sensational piece of music - it'll be a highlight folks.

For Rudsambee, Christmas is no longer Christmas without 1) a random sing-a-long round the piano at the Christmas Party and 2) a bit of Abbie Betinis. So it'll be 'Run Toboggan Run' again this year. During conversations regarding who would sing what, Maestro Boy concluded that we would have 'normal people on the top'. This, of course, relies on the assumption that there are normal people in Rudsambee. One of the funniest moments of the evening came when we repeated the opening line about a dozen times so we could get the harmonies right. However, the first line is 'Anticipation's in the air'. After 12 plus runs through anticipation was no longer the defining emotion.

And so on to Saturday night and a lovely party round at Rachel's with Bel dressed as a pumpkin and Jen dressed as a ghost. Lots of good soup, good chat and a peaceful walk down Portobello beach. Nice! Get well soon one and all. Hopefully we'll have a full collection of Rudsambeelets come Wednesday. Until then folks...

CSW

Cough, splutter, cough...

...so went the Rudsambeelets last night. Lots of sickness around at present and the air was scented with Olbas Oil (other natural sinus clearers are available). Hopefully we'll all be on the up by next week.

So we were late beginning the main rehearsal because we were moving through the fair with the small group so Maestro Boy's warmup was as follows: "(note on the keyboard) can you sing that? (Rudsambeelets sing beautifically) Right, let's try the 'Huron Carol' then shall we?" Surely the shortest warmup ever attempted.

Yes, you hear right, the 'Huron Carol' has been dragged out of the folder for Christmas 2009. So it's Gitchi Manitou all over again. For those who haven't heard this one before it is a jolly Native Indian song celebrating Christmas. The final chords take us into a major key which makes the whole thing a little cheesy/emotionally affecting (delete as appropriate). As we sang we remembered the last time we performed this a couple of years ago. There is a wonderful moment where the lyric is 'kneel' but the representative rhyming word is 'pelt' (as in beaver pelt don't you know). In order to rhyme it with the former it would, of course, have to be 'peel' which brings a whole other image to the table! We decided that Beaver peel could either be a type of shoe leather or the rodent equivalent of candied peel. So 'knelt' to rhyme with 'pelt' seems to be best.

There is also a moment in this piece where the basses split into three. Since we only had two basses last night this posed a bit of a problem. We did consider doing a 'mother in front of Solomon' and chopping Arno in half but decided against it.

We used to do this piece with rolled 'r's' as far as we remember but as we couldn't imagine our Indian friends singing it as though it were Italian opera we decided just to emphasise the 'r's' instead. Claire 2's laughter at the sops' lovely rolled 'r's' confirmed our decision... We also created two new musical terms last night (we are right on the cusp of the British experimental choral scene) - 'bigging' and 'littling'. Basically I think it refers largely to crescendos and...erm...the opposite.

So we also bashed through 'Veni, Veni' again and a new piece about trees (the title has escaped me). The latter was hard with bars of 9/8 and notes with little '2s' above them which means...the 2 version of triplets. So the piece feels like it is slowing down, like squishing your way across a muddy field. A tough little number but we'll get there as always. We even had time to sing through 'Dormi Jesu' which we've nailed. Huzzah!

So that's all for now. Lots of pills, Vitamin C and throat sweeties. Cough, cough...Hugs to all the Rudsambeelets who are struggling through the dreaded colds.

Until next week...cough...cough
CSW

'Twinkle, Twinkle, little star, how I love your shiny bra'...

Ha! That got your attention, didn't it? Rather predictably this was a wee Jenny ditty which she regaled us with during our small group practice. I realise that over the course of these posts I have rarely mentioned our small group (Rudsamb-wee)so let's make up for that right now. After the delights of Miserere, last Thursday, last night it was back to She Moved Through the Fair. Due to the big clash (intentional I may add) between Robin and Christopher (it should be noted that the clash is musical rather than personal... I think), Robin's line is pure brutal to sing. Jenny sang along in his ear which helped to a point but then, as Maestro Boy helpfully pointed out, "you are standing next to a woman singing low and it's scary". That's your Quote of the Night award and I've not even mentioned the main rehearsal yet. This beautiful number is really coming on quite well. I particularly like the Celtic twiddles (if you know what I mean - grace notes et al) and do feel that the piece should include a few more actually. If one adds too many, however, you do begin to sound like a Mariah Carey-alike, a terrifying prospect!

And so on to the main rehearsal. Arno led us through a very entertaining warm up in which he taught us a Dutch song about sheep drinking milk. What larks! The first time through we remembered there was a child and a sheep but couldn't quite recollect the actions of the said sheep. This led to a noisy opening retreating to a non-existent middle two lines. We got there eventually though. He then made us sing it to the tune of Beethoven's, oh, you know - that one that isn't the Moonlight and rather unbelievably it fit perfectly. Exactly what the great composer would have wanted methinks.

Well, last week Maestro Boy put on his best teacher gown and grabbed his sharpened cane (not really but you see the point, so to speak) and brought a bit of discipline to proceedings. You see the Rudsambee-lets are all chatty sorts of folks, finding humour in the least humorous places. So Maestro Boy could be heard above the racket, he decided to bring a little order. So now whenever he says "PENGUIN!" we all have to be silent. It's the Rudsambee equivalent of putting your finger to your lips (which we also did last night btw). Why Penguin? Oh come on, surely after 95 posts you don't need to ask questions like that.

We spent most of the night on two Christmas pieces - The Coventry Carol and Veni, Veni Emmanuel (aka O Come, O Come Emmanuel, but for posh choral types who like to show off in Latin). Both were sounding rather good towards the end. Both are versions by the King's Singers who are, or course, all boys and (wait for it) have a counter-tenor (after a particularly funny experience a few years ago, which I won't go into, in Rudsambee counter-tenors are the cause of hilarity and respect all at the same time). Rudsambee, with girls (yes, I know, who'd have thought it?), 20 voices and certainly no counter-tenor (unless Christopher gets a shock) have to adapt things slightly. But both really sounded good and we'll look forward to performing them at Christmas.

We also sang through Green Fir Forest as Sebastian is going to China (don't you try and rob his house neither you varmint, he has a cello and it bites) and wanted to take a recording with him. So we crowded up the stairs and sang into his camera propped on the arm of the chair. Marvellous! Here's hoping our Chinese friends enjoy it, even though we were a little hazy in places - some Rudsambee-lets' eyes are not up to reading music in a stairwell.

As we re-entered the rehearsal space (the lounge Chez Wexler actually) I began to sing what I always sing when I have stood on a step for a period of time, "Half way up the Stair is the Stair where I sit...". A former flame (actually we were madly in love when we were six, when I was seven his friend dumped me on his behalf - coward!) sang this once in performance and I always think on it. Rather amazingly it sounds quite like Veni, Veni Emmanuel. Try it and see. There's a musical link you've probably never made before.

And so we concluded by singing Happy Birthday to Alison who has a special birthday - discretion will not allow me to tell you which. Tea, coffee, chat etc.

So the run down to Christmas is on. We worked out that it really wasn't that long until the first concert (scarily enough at St Giles!) so we need to get down to it. Everything is so far sounding rather beautiful though so huzzah for us.

Thanks for reading and a shout out to my Dad who reads this every week and who actually was able to recite some of it to me down the phone from memory! Either shows the greatness of my prose or the never ending devotion of my Dad. Also, while we're on the subject of parents, cheers to Rachael's Mum and Dad who are fast becoming our biggest groupies - they came to watch the Falkland concert even though Rachel was sunning herself in Bath and not singing. Commitment of the highest order indeed.

CSW

3 in one...

This evening's blog post attempts to chronicle a busy week in the life of Rudsambee. I was going to post three installments (like Corrie...is that on four nights a week now? Honestly, from someone who knows, Manchester just isn't that incident-filled) but due to said busyness coupled with the blogstress' overwhelming sloth, you have just the one.

So we begin with Wednesday and the final major rehearsal before the Falkland concert. We all turned up at Priestfield (our normal pre-concert venue) to test out the music avec acoustics. Maestro Boy led a warm-up that seemed to be entirely based on the blogstress' first postgraduate lecture, conducted (successfully I might add...at least no one threw any rancid foodstuffs nor did they walk out huffing so I therefore conclude that it was of relative success) that very day. We moved on to have a run through of as many pieces as we could cope with. In Harry Hill style, my 'Musical Highlight of the Week' was our vain attempt to sing blinkin' 'Margot' with quartets. Surely the most hilarious musical performance since the Peter Kay/Geraldine escapade (currently reading the aforementioned Bolton comic's second autobiography which I would heartily recommend but do avoid reading it on the bus as I actually laughed aloud much to my embarrassment. Incidentally the lady next to me on the 26 had a dog that kept reading over my shoulder - he wasn't a person sized dog, he was sitting on her knee. He managed to contain his amusement though, at least he didn't guffaw or anything which made me conclude that either a) dogs don't like Peter Kay or b) dogs actually can't read. Either conclusion is a shocking indictment on our current dog education system methinks...and on that note I should surely get out of parenthesis and back to the post).

Well, suffice to say that Maestro Boy (after saying 'ah that was lovely' or something equally insincere) decided that we should sing tutti except for verse 1 because the folks singing that are big swots and had cracked it [and of course we've sung it the most while learning the piece]. After bashing through the rest of the music (including 'If You Love Me' which I sight-read...or at least it felt like that) we were ready for Saturday.

On Thursday night the small group met to have a run through of 'Miserere' which is finally coming together (we've only been working on it for like 3 and a half years). We can now do it without panicking which is progress indeed. I got to meet Helen's snake which was very sweet and hiding in a pot.

And so on to Saturday and a trip to Falkland which turns out to be a beautiful wee village in the Fife countryside. There is even a palace where Mary Queen of Scots stayed (incidentally is there anywhere in Scotland where Mary hasn't stayed? Every time I go to any house bigger than my flat some intelligent looking guide with a name badge informs me that good ol' Mary stayed there. She must have got about a bit ol' Mary). Had a wee pre-gig rehearsal in Falkland Parish Church where we realised that though Maestro Boy thought we were singing 'In the Springtime of the Year' and the printed programme thought we were singing 'In the Springtime of the Year', the rest of the choir were unaware of this and had largely neglected to bring the music. Good job we realised this before the performance as it could have been a little scary otherwise.

So, we had a great concert all in. Some slightly terrifying moments which I won't share with the blog fans as they are under the impression that Rudsambee always gets every note right. Oh if only you knew! Overall though we had a great time - lovely venue, lovely people, lovely homebaking. I know at least one Rudsambeelet who well remain nameless (alright it was Arno but don't tell him I told you) who tried nearly every cake available and still managed a nibble back at Chez Mummy Elaine who put on a spread for us. Thanks to the fab people of Falkland who came out to support us.





So next week we are on to Christmas music in earnest. All bells and holly for the next ten weeks or so. Man I love it.

See you then
CSW

Better late than never...

...a thousand apologies oh blog fans for the delay in posting this week. I could give a 'dog ate my homework' type excuse but I don't really have one. I am up to my ears in Canadian Literature and job things, perhaps that will do. So it will have to be a quick run down this week. You will however be getting two (yes, that's right, two) posts this week though, so hopefully that will appease the readership. This is due to a concert (I know! A what?). I haven't really mentioned this yet, largely due to the fact that I keep forgetting we are actually performing this week. Fortunately Anne has not forgotten and emailed the Rudsambee-lets with detailed distractions/instructions this week. Once again (as a running theme from last week) thank goodness for Anne. We are doing a concert in Falkland (a place in Fife, not to be confused with the British overseas territory - on second thoughts I wee jaunt through the the Falklands would be jolly - ah well, for now we will have to be content with the ancient Kingdom). We are performing on Saturday night at 7.30 in Falkland Parish Church so come along if you are in the vicinity. It would be great to see you there.

So last Wednesday. To be honest, it was a long time ago and my notes are somewhat confused (understandably given the the incompetence of the writer). From what I can remember (ha!) Natalie led us in a wonderful warmup which included a version of the William Tell Overture (hark at me!) using the words 'Many men' repeatedly. Jen's eyes lit up at the very idea!

We then bashed through a number of pieces including the new Victoria (which we actually remembered) and 'Dormi Jesu' (which we nearly remembered). Highlight of the night for me was (sorry Claire 2) 'Margot'. We now have quartets for this wee ditty which will make the whole thing more jolly. I think I can award myself with the trophy for 'poorest effort in singing quick French' though I was nearly pipped at the post for this most illustrious of awards by most of the other members of Rudsambee. How all the words will fit in I do not know. Mirren, you would have had your head in your hands and your fingers in your ears (if such a dual action is even possible...*blogstress trying this*...ah yes you can, but you do look silly). What larks!

And so it is back to the lecture planning. I wish one and all a happy sun-filled week.

CSW

Counterpoint and a rapping counter punch

Evening Blog fans. After a day of Canadian Literature (preparation for a course rather than a sudden unexplained obsession with the cultural exports of our friends across the pond) here I am to fill you in on the joys and japes of last night. We began with a short group rehearsal of 'She Moves Through the Fair', one of the Blogstresses' favourite ditties. It is a really nice version too, though lyrically it is largely dominated, in the best tradition of the modern pop song, by 'nah, nahs'.

Warm-up was led by Alison with a new, super-stylish haircut. We did a few 'coming down the octave' (and yes, that is a technical term). The highlight for me was definitely Monsieur Wexler's eyebrows which rise and descend with the music. Brilliant! We then did a maths challenge, counting up and down the scale and then substituting numbers for claps and stamps a la 'Grand Old Duke of York'. Actually this wasn't quite as 'car-crash warm-up' as you might expect. The Rudsambeelets are obviously closet Einsteins (oh, he was a physicist...you get the idea).

Next, we moved on to a new piece of early music by old friend Victoria entitled 'something Latin'. Apparently there are no rolled 'rs' in Latin. Jen told me that - she is so very clever. The altos were accused of being a bit 'man-y' (not in appearance you understand, but vocally) and advised by Maestro Boy to move closer to the sopranos. As everyone knows, sopranos are extremely girlie, liking nothing better than wearing pink ribbons, ballet and making sweet cupcakes. Hopefully we will rub off on them.

We then moved on to 'Dormi Jesu'. Maestro Boy made the classic comment, 'then we'll break it down a little'. Fantastic, the image is wonderful. Obviously with my love of rap music this means something completely different to me (NB I think in rap lingo there is also a rude association - I don't mean that...Christopher). 'Dormi Jesu' with gold chains, suped up cars and 'homeboys'. Brillig.

We concluded with good ol' 'Margot' just so that Claire 2 could be tormented by it all week. Maestro Boy is even considering throwing in a slow verse. Mixin' it up - oh man all that rapper stuff is beginning to take over, I'm dropping my word endings.
Anne took a night off from saving the world and dealing with important governmental issues (or whatever else the world's most organised woman does in her spare time) to inform us that she has already booked St Giles for Christmas next year...getting in ahead of the 'Mild Wyrtles'. If Barak is ever looking for a PA Anne is the lady.

Well, that's it for now folks and folkesses. Thanks for reading and 'respect homie'
CSW

We're still here!

Afternoon blog fans. Many apologies for the distinct lack of posts over the past couple of weeks. I have been gallivanting around Britain and beyond, and I am the only literate member of Rudsambee - I joke of course, we have a disproportionate amount of clever clogs in our ranks.

So what's been happening? Well, we had a jolly night yesterday which began well for the blogstress as Marks and Spencers had a decent sandwich selection. The whole evening was considerably improved by Rach's warm-up which was loosely based on Silly Noises to Keep Babies Happy: volume one, concluding with The Grand old Duke of York. Some members of Rudsambee (who shall remain nameless) have some trouble with leaving out the 'ups'. Silly billies!

We moved next door (to the next room not, sadly, round to the Wexlers' long-suffering neighbours who, undoubtedly, spend Wednesday nights lying in a darkened room with aspirin and a cool flannel...or enjoying the dulcet tones of the Rudsambeelets of course) but to the music room (how grand!) and grouped around the piano a la the Waltons. We spent the evening note-bashing a song that Douglas wants at his wedding (it is next May - never let it be said that the Rudsambeelets arrive at a performance unprepared!) and the Lullaby Carol which is pretty but tough - like an alto. The latter is our first proper piece of Christmas music but, since there are no bells and, most importantly no mention of snow or any other Betinis seasonal cliche, we can get away with it in September.

Both began to sound like real pieces of music and Maestro Boy looked suitably smug and proud in equal measure. The wedding song contains a '//' which apparently signifies a wee break, but the Rudsambeelets decided that it represented a chance to go for a quick cuppa, reflect on the thought-provoking sentiment, and then return for the final phrase. What larks!

We had a Margot-free night which pleased many Rudsambeelets who have this wee French (some strange language anyways) ditty on the brain almost constantly. We did run through Dormi Jesu though, which is also beginning to sound very pleasant.

So as term begins, many of the Rudsambeelets are sinking 'neath a sea of paper/work/stressing students/study but all are in good spirits and looking forward to the run-down to Christmas. However we do have a concert before then in the Kingdom (no really it is, check out the sign) of Fife in October, which should be jolly. More on that at a later date.

Hope all have a brillig week.
Until next time
CSW

'What's the point of making mistakes if I can't hear them?' (Maestro Boy)

A classic line from our valiant leader there. When we sight-read a piece for the first time we tend to mumble through it, not wanting our mistakes to be too obvious. Mumbling is upped a notch when we sing a work like Betinis' Dormi Jesu which we started last night. It is written in a ridiculous key and then dotted with accidentals, including a double sharp which Maestro Boy tried to explain to us. What is the point of a double sharp one wonders? Suffice to say we didn't come up with any definitive answer to this thorny question, but we did enjoy singing this piece. I have no doubt that there is some intelligent muso out there with a first class music degree from, say, a prestigious institution like Edinburgh University who could provide an in-depth but accessible explanation, but alas, where does one find such a person? We, rather remarkably, got all the way through, start to finish. Don't get me wrong, it's not quite at performance level yet but we were suitably chuffed with ourselves.

We were a little short of Rudsambee-lets last night but we did have two piddly altos (one was Rach so one very piddly alto :-) ). And, after Sebastian led us in a jazzy little round, we worked on with another new piece about Margot (who labourez les vignes). It is very fun and we learnt it orally (goodness, the Rudsambee-lets were on fire last night!). We then did it in smaller groups as we'll be doing lots of quartet work for Christmas. Forget the Sixteen, it's the Four you want.

Despite lots of folks being absent, one welcome return to the Rudsambee fold was Anna-Lauren who has been away for a few months. Huzzah to have you back, lady. The sopranos have been sadly lacking in glamour and extremo high notes since you have been gone.

And so the festival lumbers on like a great big bear, and town remains as busy as ever. I am having a couple of weeks off (don't even think about robbing my house in my absence blog fans - we have some serious security going on!) so will see you in September. Hopefully there will be a bit of blogging anyways so tune in.

Enjoy the sunshine and blue skies which, rather unbelievably, are present and correct in Auld Reekie this happy morn.

CSW

A night off!

Morning blog fans,
Just to let you know (in case you have awoken this morning excitedly awaiting the latest post from Relative Pitch), Rudsambee actually had a night off last night. We are resting on our laurels (I love that phrase!) after the delights of Sunday night (and because half the choir were on holiday). So the Rudsambee-lets spent the evening alone in the community somewhere. A terrifying thought! Anyways, we'll be back next week to prepare for Christmas (in a vocal rather than a putting-up-tinsel sort of way).

So without a full length blog post to read, how else can you spend that hour before lunch? Two suggestions:
1) checking out the back catalogue of the late legend Les Paul on youtube. In a rather showbiz aside, I saw him in concert last year and got to have my picture taken with him. Sad news of his death this week but if I am still rockin at 93 two weeks before my death I'll be quite contented.
2) getting on to the BBC website and following the Ashes as either a) England lose in dramatic grabbing-defeat-from-the-jaws-of-victory fashion or b) the whole thing is rained off, Australia retain the urn by default and it all peters out in usual British-sporting-summer disappointment.
It's your choice folks.
Until next week then
CSW

A jolly night at St Giles

Good evening folks. An extra blog post this week to fill you in on this evening's concert. Singing at St Giles is always a "generally entertaining" experience as you have the double fear of the sheer amount of spectators and the acoustic which, though beautiful to listen to music in, is tough-as-you-like to get right. After running through the festival crowds (including negotiating a man on a tall ladder) we arrived in time to have a bit of a warm-up, beginning rather ambitiously with Bogoff.

After a cup of tea, Angus realising he had brought the wrong shirt (so he wore pink all night - hee hee!), usual lost folders, and Anne handing out her customary politically-incorrect sweeties (probably best not to ask about this if you don't know what on earth I'm talking about) we were off. So, the actual concert went very well. Sfogava was a wonderful (if hair-raising) singing experience; Man, the acoustic made a huge difference. Even Tormis' swingy girl song passed as a piece of music. And Kay and I managed to fumble our way through the Thuma Mina/Akanamandla link without too much bother. We finished with possibly the world's quickest ever version of Jede Sedlak. Maestro Boy fancied a challenge methinks.

As usual, the audience were very encouraging and St Giles proved to be a crackin' venue - as always. So on Wednesday, out come the bells, the tree and the baubles as we start on our Christmas music. I know, I know. However, I am slacking off for the week but hopefully there will be a blog post - I'll leave it in the safe (relatively safe) hands of our resident Editor.

Thanks to all who came to support us tonight. It would have been a bit dull without you all... and we would have felt a little foolish, especially when it came to the bowing!

Until next time blog fans

CSW

"It's very entertaining"

...an opening quote from Kay there, an apt description of the rather jolly 'Star of the County Down'. The small/large group - affectionately known as Rudsam-wee by this blogstress - singing the piece were not entirely sure how to take that. But it was very entertaining, as was our warmup led by none other than Maestro Boy himself. We began with singing our reactions (squeals of delight or groans of frustrated horror)to the all-encompassing Edinburgh festival. For those not in an EH region, Auld Reekie has been taken over by, well, the entire world it would seem, who flock to the Capital to see Art, good and bad. Legendary theatre director Tyrone Guthrie suggested that "Everyone enjoys it, except my Edinburgh cousins who complain of the phenomenal and outrageous rise in the price of carrots". In our contemporary-carrots-for-pennies-you-can-even-get-them-ready-sliced world I must admit the price rises in the vegetable sphere largely do not affect me. The traffic, people stopping abruptly while walking on pavements and the endless leaflets do. Yet I will not turn Scrooge. It is still an exciting city to be in at present.

So last night was our final rehearsal before St Giles. Even the Tormis swing song was "entertaining," i.e. according to soon-to-be-teacher Robin, it actually sounded like a piece of music. Huzzah! And (in an even bigger shock - hold the 'phone!) the Monteverdi is beginning to sound like a real piece too. This is going to be magnifique in St Giles and will be worth the ticket price alone... especially since it is a free gig!

As is our custom at present, Rudsambee chunked (see previous posts) and mixed up which really helps with tuning. And, since Rachel was standing just in front of our Editor Christopher, she provided him with a perfect music stand, folder balanced on her head. Yet even with the chunking last night you could largely tell where the sopranos were as for some reason Mummy Elaine, Alison and Helen all wore Rudsambee uniform of black and red. I wore pink just to be difficult! And to clash, but only visually not musically.

The African set was interesting last night as I entirely forgot how the piece even went. Excellent, considering that Kay and I are leading off. Don't panic blog fans - I will wander about singing it for the next couple of days and all will be well.

Just to fill you in on last Saturday, the wedding went off without a hitch. Helen's Ave Maria was spectacular, and we all started on the right note for Irish Blessing but that was probably because Anne was belting out a Bb on the organ as loud as possible. The congregation didn't really join in with the responsorial psalm but they all nodded so maybe 'response' meant just that ('Ah yes, quite right' nods) rather than actually singing along. They didn't have the words anyways so it might have proved a little difficult. Congrats to the happy couple and to Douglas who looked pleased as punch (eh? What sort of a saying is that?) all day.

So we look forward to Sunday evening. It should be a great concert so I'd recommend it - I'd be a bit foolish not to.

As usual a post-concert blog update is to be expected...

CSW

"If it sounds simple it's because we are good at it" (J Wexler Esq 5/8/09)

T'rific opening line from Monsieur Wexler with reference to the Boy's Song (someone one day will tell me the actual title of the Russian/German ditty). And, of course, it could just as readily be applied to all Rudsambee performances, except for the Girl's Song (Timid Girl by Tormis) which sounded "poo" (C Warden 5/8/09).

So we began last night with a jolly version of Row, row, row your boat led by Claire 2...with actions...and sound effects. In fact the whole exercise confirmed only one thing for this blogstress, a fact learned in primary school - boys are rubbish at things. Actually our gentlemen redeemed themselves with some excellent performances for the rest of the evening, which perhaps confirms that they are just more rubbish at doing ridiculous action songs than girls...which isn't necessarily a bad thing.

We spent quite a bit of time on our African songs last night which are really begining to sound quite good. Now the Soweto Choir we ain't but even so...For the first song Sebastian leads us and so we just have to follow him; for the second the whole choir follow the sops which is a very dangerous thing to do especially as this blogstress made up half the lyrics. Kay and I also get to set the pace which is a bit of a responsibility.

After our friends in York performed Dindirin in its original Spanish/French/who knows/a bit of a mixture, Rudsambee (not to be outdone) decided we would give it a go. Actually it sounded rather good but not good enough to avoid the customary language discussion (Jen and I found a comfy seat on the couch and had a snooze at this point). In the end we were treated to a Sonny and Cher performance by Anne and John so if you want to know about pronunciation for this, ask them.

"Half past nine, half past nine, hang your knickers on the line". Advice there from Kay who apparently said that little rhyme all the time as a child. The mind boggles. The mind was equally boggled by Chris' suggestion that after the wedding on Saturday (don't panic happy couple, I am coming to that), something is happening on Corstorphine Hill. As Jen lives in the vicinity of that peak (sorry, 'peak' is a bit much, 'mound' might be better) anything could be happening up there. Attend at your peril.

We also, of course, spent a bit of time on Sfogava which is sounding...better than last week. So Saturday is the wedding and the Rudsambee-lets are all ready to go. The priest apparently doesn't know any bride that has ever been on time (actually I baulk that trend, arriving early for my wedding and that in spite of the rugby being on the telly) so we have to bring all our current music just in case. Bride, if you are 20 minutes late or more, your poor guests may well be treated to a round of Kanarbik or something really inappropriate like Dindirin which speaks of a doomed love affair, so I would make haste if I were you.

That's all for tonight. Just to bring you up to date with the rubbish crisis, my bins have now been emptied and I smiled at the bin man this morning, half because the weather is beautiful and it is dificult not to smile under blue skies, and half due to the relief of finally being able to remove a pizza box from my kitchen that has be sitting rather forlornly on my side for a week as I was unable to squeeze anything else into the 'bucket', as the Scots would say.

Until next time
CSW

The unbearable subjectiveness of dynamics

Well, just to keep you up to date with the rubbish problem in Auld Reekie Toon, as I'm sure many of you won't have slept a wink all week due to concern about the Blogstress having to scale piles of refuse on her way home: apparantly private firms are picking it up. I'll await the results.

Last night I made schoolboy error of forgetting I was leading warmup until two minutes before the rehearsal - duh! - so it was another outing for that old family favourite the Cheesy Wotsit Song. Beautiful as always, and now we can wander round with an irritating repetitive song in our heads for the rest of the week.

We had a few folks missing but we jollied along in typical Rudsambee fashion, beginning with a run through of the songs for Douglas' daughter's wedding. This is coming up a week on Saturday and all seems to be in hand (just in case the happy couple happen to stumble upon Relative Pitch during the course of the week). We are singing Rudsambee classic Take My Hand just before the bride comes in and had an interesting time trying to work out whether we have always sung it slightly wrongly or whether our poor memories were letting us down again. Suffice to say we had to think in triplets. Maestro Boy suggested that the piece had "that Envoi feeling" which left Robin, Mummy Elaine and myself with heads in hands (see previous blog posts as to the triplet difficulty level of Envoi - it is off the scale and generally involved us having to dance a salsa either literally or in our mind's eye). Take My Hand also contains the little used botanical term "fescue". Maestro Boy was unsure as to its meaning and the gardeners amongst us (most of us live in flats so expertise in this was severely limited) explained that it is a type of grass. Cue Maestro Boy, "it sounds horrid". Festering fescue perhaps?

To add further excitement, the previously used dynamics for this piece are as subjective and vague as I have ever heard - "warm and light", "warm" (no idea where the lightness went for verse two), "strong and hard" (that's verse 3 when the daily grind starts to get to the happy couple - bit of encouragement to the wedded duo there) etc etc. Whatever happened to p and mf? However, we muddled through and put in some jolly crescendos just for fun.

Anyways we cracked this one and moved of to Sfogava which I think will sound better when a) we are able to sing the right notes in the right order, b) we maintain good tone throughout c) we sing it in an slightly more boisterous acoustic then we currently have at chez Wexler and d) we stop looking scared and gripping our copies so tightly. Plenty of time to perfect it folks - all of three weeks. In all seriousness (no really) it is going to sound brillig when we've cracked it.

So what are we wearing to Douglas' daughter's wedding you may ask? Of course uniform in Rudsambee has in the past been a topic of discussion akin to the development of world peace or the ending of poverty. It was decided very quickly (after a brief jape about wearing full wedding outfits - big hats, tails... a white dress!) to wear our usual red and black. The gentlemen took their shirts away tonight with Robin's suggestion that an "implicit iron" comes with them. Not sure what an implicit iron looks like, but hopefully all the gentlemen will arrive looking suitably pressed. With great power comes great responsibility lads.

Talking of lads, Robin's final comment of the night was the pertinent question "Where do men hang out?" An interesting query though he was of course asking because we are still on the look out for some tenors and basses to join us, but you never know with Robin...

All the joys of the summer season to you all
CSW

PS for all cat-lovers out here, another piece of entertainment shared by Mr Whitacre (although not by him):

Wedding planning and a new piano

An event of miraculous proportions occured this morning that, along with the appearance of the sun - the big yellow thing in the sky, folks - which is nervously edging its way towards another large dark cloud, has put me in good spirits for this morning's post. Yes blog fans, I spotted a rubbish truck - that is a truck that takes away our rubbish rather than a truck with no engine and scaffy paint or something. These lesser-spotted vehicles are a rare sight in the Scottish Capital and the build up of binbags down every street is making Auld Reekie look like a scene from Children of Men with the lovely Clive Owen, except without the end-of-the-world-running-gun-fights imagery. Check out this for those outside of the EH postcode - http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/edinburgh_and_east/8165451.stm - "some bins have started to overflow"...are you kidding? It's got to almost wading proportions. But spotting the truck gave me some hope. So it is with a glad heart that I write to you this morning.

So the piano chez Wexler has departed and last night we did a bit of note bashing with Helen's super-duper-spangly electronic piano which even transposes songs for you, thereby supporting my theory that one day computers will take over the world. We began the evening with a round of that ever popular children's favourite 'Clare MacDonald had a zoo' led, in her usual indomitable style, by Jen. The sight of the Rudsambee-lets pretending to be owls, flamingos, kangaroos and giraffes confirmed in my mind that either we are totally mad or creative geniuses (I know that isn't the plural, grammar fans, before you write to me in your droves complaining about the dumbing down of Relative Pitch. 'Genii' adds an Aladdin dimension to my already overcrowded description).

Then we started rehearsing the music for Douglas' daughter's wedding. We spent a bit of time getting it all right (obviously this takes only minutes in Rudsambee-world - we are, after all, musical genii - ha!) and then the gentlemen left us (only to go to the next room) while the ladies sang Schubert's Ave Maria. This is at the request of the happy couple but, trust me, when all the female Rudsambee-lets sing it together, in unison, with a couple of comic-warbly-pretending-to-be-opera-stars voices thrown in, it sounded nasty verging on dreadful. As it was written for solo sop anyway, we all volunteered Helen who was, and I quote, "not amused". Suffice to say it will sound spectacular.

Anne may well be playing a bit of organ for this and allusion was made to an occurence involving underwear. Sadly, the story went no further so you can use your own imagination...unless someone can enlighten us.

The Sfogava is coming on pretty well. Last night it sounded particularly beautiful as Maestro Boy sang sop 2...in falsetto. If it all goes horribly wrong, he surely has a career as a counter tenor ahead of him. Singing Monteverdi while laughing uncontrollably at Maestro Boy's incredible sop 2 line brings an added dimension of difficulty to proceedings.

Finally, Rudsambee are on the look-out for some gentlemen...who can sing. If this is you then get in touch. We could do with a tenor and a bass I believe...or indeed a counter tenor.
Job description: must be able to hold a tune, have a willingness to turn his hand to all languages, have a excellent sense of humour, not be allergic to either modern Estonian clashes (in the musical sense rather than the political) or the occasional bit of cheese. Pay scale: you must be joking.
In these credit crunch times of unemployment such a gig surely appeals to some young man.

Have a great week one and all.

CSW

Changing the Wexler feng shui

Well, I arrived last night (after M&S had run out of sandwiches - don't get me started!) to find Helen sitting in a tenor seat. Now, anyone who knows the Rudsambee-lets will inevitably have discerned three undeniable truths:
1) We always have long discussions about correct pronunciation,
2) We always have at least one moment of hilarity per night (generally when Jenny has done something silly)
3) We always sit in exactly the same seats chez Wexler with the Sopranos on the comfy sofa (so we can lounge about), the Altos near the window (to catch the breeze - make of that what you will), the Tenors next to Maestro Boy (for emergency notes) and the Basses next to the door (not sure why they should be there - quick getaway in case it all goes horribly wrong?). This latter point of order never changes. Yet last night, we (wait for it...) moved round. Goodness whatever next? This now places the Sopranos near Maestro Boy and on the hard stools... you can see his plan?

And so, as usual, a visitor arrived just as the Rudsambee-lets were doing some ridiculous dancing, rhythm sequence while reciting girl's names quickly. Poor Kathryn (Rachel's friend) was, however, not put off and joined in gamely.

If the hard stools were the stick then Maestro boy's carrot came in the form of a box of Roses. Mrs W made the hazardous mistake of choosing a caramel only moments before Maestro Boy asked us to sing Sfogava. Monteverdi and a mouth full of sweetie is an interesting if challenging combo. This piece is coming along quite nicely now. The ladies headed next door with Anne for a while (to use the pia-pia-piano) to note bash. She made (inadvertently I believe, though nothing gets past this blogstress) the statement of the night: there is a line that reads, "Mentre cosi splendete" and Anne asked us for a "Men with good tone". Sopranos and Altos like good toned men (I'm sorry, I came over all 'Carry On' there for a moment. Apologies.).

We also bashed through our lady and gentlemen pieces. The ladies, as mentioned last week, are singing a jolly number about a swinging girl by Tormis. It has unanimously been voted (by me) as our favourite Tormis piece so far. And it is even starting to sound good - already, like, a month before the concert. Shock horror!

The gentlemen were introduced to their piece last night. Sebastian had brought this number along (Editor can add song name as I wasn't paying attention but was too busy eating a bag of Skips which provided my dinner last night due to M&S failing in their duty to provide a delicious pre-rehearsal piece - blimey, there's a Scottish word for you - my Englishness is gradually diminishing, I'll be eating fried things soon. Every night!). Apparently this song is in German and Russian. Or a Russian song in German. Or something like that. The ladies enjoyed listening to this with Maestro Boy struggling along (he had been next door with the ladies working on the Tormis so had to sight-sing it... sight-singing in performance, btw, is not unheard of for Rudsambee-lets but is something we try to avoid for fear of ever-increasing blood pressure), Anne singing a jolly descant (not in the original sadly) and Sebastian giving a proper, old-school performance - trust me, if he had had evening dress and a white scarf nonchalantly draped around his shoulders, he would have looked like a 1920s cabaret star. He should definitely do it like that at St Giles. They'd be dancing in the aisles! (A little bit of poetry for you at the end of this paragraph - didn't even realise until I read it back... the creativity of the Institute must be entering my brain through osmosis - not that sort of Institute btw, the Humanities Institute where I currently sit in studious busyness)

And so another night has been and gone, and St Giles approaches (not literally, last time I checked it remained firmly grounded opposite the Council Chambers) with breathtaking speed. It's going to be fun folks so put it in your diary.

Have a marvellous week one and all.

CSW

I return...

... and it is with many apologies that I return to my blogging duties this week. Sorry for the lack of posts recently; last week I was enjoying the dubious pleasure of being rejected by one of England's foremost educational establishments - apologies for deserting my reportage position for this. So I'm back with renewed vigour and vim for the latest installment of Relative Pitch.

Well, last night was a Wednesday and we had a customary jolly time at chez Wexler. Lots of new music last night which is always fun except for the universally acknowledged truth that Monteverdi will always sound 'bish when sight sung, although his Sfogava Con Le Stelle will one day sound beautiful I am sure. It is a lovely bit of music anyways and has the excitement of bits sung in free time. Like rockclimbing with no ropes. Quote of the night re this giant of Italian music came from Maestro Boy who referred to him as "dead naughty" because he was more interested in the lyrics than the music allegedly.

Rather unbelievably (cue apologetic, slightly nervous face from Maestro Boy) we began a new bit of Tormis last night. Yes, everyone's favourite Estonian made another appearance with a new piece just for the ladies entitled A Timid Girl on a Swing. Ending her lament with the immortal words "I'm worth the whole wide world" we can viably make the assumption that this timid girl gains confidence in the course of our ditty. In fact, from timid to arrogant in 39 bars has to be some sort of record. She should write a self-help book - it could change the world. It is actually quite a cool piece and the second sops make 'swing noises' which is fun indeed. According to Maestro Boy this is the last piece of Tormis we will be doing for a while, not, as Robin concluded, because "we have had him killed" but because it is probably time to give him a break, poor chap.

So the St Giles concert approaches at speed. The suggestion (nay, assertion) that we would be performing the Monteverdi at this gig caused startl"d looks all round but especially from Mrs W who said something like, and I quote, 'singing, wha th'... argh.. wha th'... really? .. argh... argh" or somthing like that anyways. Suffice to say that the suggestion made her lose all sense of normal Anglo-Saxon speech patterns. Very funny! The new music is all exciting including "Akanamandla" which is great and we've not touched for years.

Not sure I've mentioned it on Relative Pitch yet but congrats to Peter and Mirren on the birth of their first son. Huzzah! The pictures are very sweet. So I must return to the joys (no really it is a joy) of WH Auden. I hope all and sundry have a great day.

CSW

Just a quickie

Our fair Blog-maiden has once again abandoned us and nobody seems to have had time to update our fans on Rudsambee's antics this week.

So here, instead, is the climax of our concert in the Reid Concert Hall - Eric Whitacre's Cloudburst. Ally kindly pointed her camera at us while Helen M had her fancy equipment recording the whole concert, so it's moderately watchable.

Rudsambee on their travels again...

Apologies for a quiet week and a bit for Relative Pitch. I have been sunning myself in the heat of Dubai - tough life, eh? In suitable showbiz fashion as you have come to expect of your resident blog queen I flew back just in time for Saturday's concert and swanned in after the first rehearsal.

And so we have returned from visiting our friends of Soon Amore in the beautiful city of York. Thanks to all the groupies who followed us and to Soon Amore and their crowd for welcoming us so warmly. What to tell you... well, the rehearsals all went well and 5.45 saw us relaxing on the steps of our venue, the lovely chapel in York Cemetery, eating amazing hummus, fruit, chocolate cake etc. etc. etc. - a proper picnic was laid on by the good folks of Soon Amore.

In fact so good that Maestro Boy began our set with a warning to the front couple of rows to beware of flying cake - eating so much delicious grub prior to a performance in never a wise idea and a number of Rudsambee-lets felt that a lie down rather than a sing was in order. Our half went well and Maestro Boy's eyebrows looked suitably pleased. Then it was Soon Amore's turn and I think we were particularly struck by the water set (a couple of really nice modern pieces included in this) and their version of Dindirin which we all agreed, being in the original Spanish, was better than ours. We concluded with a jolly encore, with both choirs singing different versions of the Irish Blessing. Rather scarily Soon Amore's conductor invited the Rudsambee-lets to join with them in their version. So we ended the concert by sight-singing a piece of music that none of us had even ever heard before. As Robin said "It was a little like something that happens in a pre-concert nightmare" except that generally you have forgotten to put on any clothes in those dreams. We were, I am happy to report, all fully covered.

So a good trip all in all. Thanks again to everyone who made it happen. I had a jolly time driving a little boat on the Ouse on Sunday. What larks!

More Relative Pitch on Thursday, post-rehearsal

CSW

While the cat's away...

Have you ever wondered what might happen to the sweet Rudsambee-lets if both Maestro Boy and Esteemed Leader Anne went away on their jolly holidays? Well last night this was our lot. King Editor valiantly led us while jazz man Sebastian beat the rhythms out. However, the Rudsambee-lets were for some reason on our worst behaviour and I felt both our supply teacher leaders were remarkably patient with us. So hilarity was the name of the game, started by the aforementioned jazz man who showed us some jolly beats that meant fervently beating our chests. Honestly some of our number have so little rhythm! Douglas' face was so confused that by the end of the ditty I was almost crying with laughter.

We rehearsed quite a bit of Tormis which sounded dreadful at first... and still sounded dreadful at the end - I joke, I joke! Tormis is a little like Marmite (other yeast-based spreads available), and I do not like Marmite very much. Despite the general misbehaviour (I would like to blame A-L for much of this naughtiness - don't be taken in by her innocent facade. She completely cracks me up!) we did manage to sing through Sleep which we remembered quite well, and Dark Eyed Sailor which sounded a little scary the first time through (the ladies have a tendency to shout the line "Oh welcome William, I've lands and gold" - in fact if someone welcomed me back from the dead in such a manner I might well have dived straight back into the ocean) but less scary with dynamics in the second.

We also sang Tourdion which is a terrific little piece. Once we'd worked out the general logistics of this, it sounded pretty good. Very quick! The speed continued with Jede Sedlak which we can now rattle out without folders at a tremendous tempo.

So how best to conclude a night of increasing mirth? Well, it began with A-L's mime of 'playing a very small keyboard'. Unfortunately it looked like she was pretending to be a small rodent. This led to one of the funniest and most ridiculous conversations I have embarked upon for some considerable time. Robin (who is, as we all know, going to train to be a teacher and, judging by his linguistic knowledge, will single-handedly reform our ailing education system) referred to such an action as murine e.g. like a mouse. Mrs Wexler did her best Susy Dent impression with dictionary open and ready to discover other animal-themed descriptive words, for example 'bovine', 'avine', 'feline' (for a full list check out this magnificent link - http://www.dnafrequencies.com/dp/terms.shtml). However, the Rudsambee-lets, as they are, decided that this could be pushed a little further and came up with 'beeline', 'borderline', 'conga line', 'pantyline', 'Serpentine', 'clothesline', 'Stenna line' and, my current favourite, 'fraulein'. Goodness how we laughed - thanks to Robin, Rach, A-L, and Susan for contributing to this one. Any others, please do add them via the comment function.

And on that ridiculous note I bid you farewell. Despite the general merriment that took over this evening's proceedings we will be ready for York in a week and a bit - promise!

CSW

The week after the...erm...weekend before

Universally acknowledged is the fact that the week after a concert (especially one as spiffing as Saturday night), Rudsambee-lets tend to go a little wild and become ever more unmanageable for ol' Maestro Boy, those who attend anyway. Last night was no exception. I will put the general chaos partly down to learning a new little ditty which is entitled Don't it make my brown eyes blue. In A-L's southern American drawl it sounded like a throwback to an Arthur Miller play and her suggestion of a voiceover during the final chorus ("I'm so blue... what can I do... without you?" etc. etc. etc. ad nauseum) was greeted with great enthusiasm. This, btw, is a song beloved of our York friends who we will be visiting in a matter of weeks. Now I am of the opinion that jazz (especially jazz with a touch of swing and a smattering of blues) causes perfectly respectable choral groups to regress into hysterical madness. Once again I was proved entirely correct. It is like a disease.

In fact, after the delights of the weekend, we challenged ourselves to two new pieces last night with a lulluby by Gorecki as well(haven't worked out how to correctly pronounce his name yet - leave it with me). While we are, in true Rudsambee fashion, singing this song in Polish, we took a quick peek at the translation which roughly seems to read, "Go to bed and grow up". This sentence of course could have many meanings depending on whether it is sung by a kindly mother looking fondly at her sweet child and thinking of the future when he will be a strong man or by a cross mother sick of her child's endless whining for the latest Wii game. Maestro Boy's recital sounded remarkably like the latter.

This next item will cause a shock wave to ripple, nay, tsunami (can that word be used as a verb - I don't care, I'm the Lord of the grammatical rules round here) around the Music Department of the University of Edinburgh. We took a quick look at Wade in the Water last night. We attempted this one before but consigned it to the proverbial Rudsambee waste paper bin. Maestro Boy (a man with a first class degree in music no less) looked at the sheet music asfresh and bemoaned the lack of variety for the poor ol' basses who "only get to sing a E except for one C near the end". We all agreed that this was a poor show indeed and reflected the generally dull nature of this piece (unless Eva Cassidy sings it in which case I rather like it). That is until Editor King (who also, as it happens, has a perceptive eye) pointed out that Maestro Boy was reading the percussion line. University degrees dumbing down? I think this proves it beyond any doubt.

Finally we listened to Helen's recording of Cloudburst from the triumph of Saturday night. Despite a couple of moments where we had a collective cringe, it really sounded good. What a great night that was! Speaking of the concert, thanks again to all those who came. Loads of money (I really mean loads of money) was raised for a great cause so cheers for putting your hand in your pockets. Claire 2's Lenny Henry/Comic Relief/ensure there are some 'sad footage' close ups and some jolly 'we're here to help' aftershots-esque speech seemed to work wonders (sorry about that sentence, try it again...). Jen wondered if she could have a recording so she could wander round Tesco's with a begging bowl.

And with that I must get back to a perculiar play by Louis MacNeice. Bet you wish you were me.

CSW

ps If you feel the need to pay this much for a copy, get in touch and we can almost certainly undercut the seller.

The concert lowdown

Evening all, well I am safely tucked up in my sweats with a Diet Coke and some proggy Genesis for company to give you the lowdown on tonight's concert.

Well, what can I say? What a great experience! Tonight was one of the best concerts I have ever had the pleasure to be involved with. Everyone was on fire. Maestro Boy led us with more than his usual brilliance and we even watched him on occasions and (cor blimey!) once or twice followed his lead! So the concert contained a bit of jolly Tormis (Anne is her introduction to Lulling said that we had all come to love Tormis... I think some might beg to differ!), some of our old friends Lauridsen and Betinis (Envoi was the usual stressful, clinging-on experience for the Sop2s but I think we nailed it. Kind of), a bit of clashy Part, a touch of Vaughan Williams, Jede Sedlak (minus folders!), some French fun (Mirren, you'll be pleased to know that our pronunciation was largely excellent comprehensible not terrible), Hide and Seek, Green Fir Forest (which, much to our collective surprise came off quite well) and a great big helping of Eric Whitacre.

In fact we did two of our Whitacre numbers this evening. We took another crack at Five Hebrew Love Songs which was wonderful (we even got a clap after the second movement!). I think I can say that we universally love this piece of music; cheers to Aaron for playing violin for us again. Then of course came the piece de resistance Cloudburst!. Now, anyone who has been following this blog since the start (it's been a year now, folks!) will know that this piece has had a seriously long gestation period. But man, tonight it all came together. We were joined by some great percussionists, a marvellous pianist, the fabulous Holy Trinity Handbell group from Haddington and, you will be pleased to hear if you have followed our percussion saga over the past few weeks, an intact bass drum and a very large piece of wobbling metal than sounded nothing like dear ol' Rolf. When we got to the climax of the storm it really felt like the roof of the Reid Hall might just lift right off its foundations. An incredible, joyful night. Thanks to all the musicians who made it happen. We couldn't have done it without you - or at least the stormy bits would have sounded decidedly less, erm, stormy.

My introduction highlight of the night was definitely from Monsieur Wexler who always does a funny intro (although not always purposefully so). Tonight's was no exception as he introduced The Spring Time of the Year by saying that Vaughan Williams liked the tune of this one but found the lyrics a bit dull... all 8 or so verses! So VW restricted himself to two verses of the, and I quote, "... fairly predictable nautical romance". Ah, John sure has a way of putting things.

So hopefully we raised a pretty packet for the kids of the Balkans to learn about friendship and fun through the medium of music [Around £1,000 it would seem]. Here's also hoping that Editor King will have some piccies for us over the coming days [Oh, okay then] (and perhaps even a wee video [you'll have to wait until we sync it up to the good quality audio; if you're really keen to hear it then have a browse on YouTube]) so keep checking back to Relative Pitch for that.

I'm off to make a cup of tea and bask in the joy that was Rudsambee and friends at Reid Hall. Thanks if you came and supported us tonight - the audience were very encouraging and we even received a box of Millionaire's shortbread from two of our biggest fans. Trust me, you know you've made it when you start receiving gifts from your groupies - especially eatables!

See you Wednesday

CSW

Two days to go before the storm unleashes its fury...

Good afternoon folks and folkesses. Pleasure to have you aboard. The sun has broken through and I have recently finished a very perculiar play so it is time to get on with writing this week's post.

Last night began in sillier-than-usual fashion if you would believe it with a Claire 2-led summer-themed warm-up (hmmm...many hyphens required for that sentence to make any grammatical sense!). It concluded, as may have been expected, with a jolly rendition of 'I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside' gradually moving up a semitone each phrase - delightful. Less delightful was our humming. Often in a warm-up the leader will ask us to pick any note we like and hum on said note until our heads feel all buzzy (bone fide musical terminology). It warms the old lips up. Apparently when Claire 2 does this exercise with actors they harmonious; we however, tend to choose a note and resolutely stick to it. Cue some truly dreadful harmonics (or non-harmonics as the case may be...discords, that's the word I'm fumbling for). Worst culprit last night was, you may be surprised to hear, our resident perfect-pitch pianist Ann who proceeded to create a opera-style chord sequence. Jenny joined in and, as you can probably ascertain by this stage, the whole thing degenerated from there.

Fortunately, when it comes to humming in actual pieces of music we do fare better, which is a good job as we have quite a bit of humming to do this concert. Maestro Boy pointed to whenever 'we get the bongs'. This may sound a little perculiar but there are many 'bongs' in the 'Hebrew Love Songs'. 'Getting the bongs' btw is not a euphemism...for anything...before you start.

Maestro Boy, in his pastoral capacity, asked us if there was any music we were scared of (not generally I hasten to add...just for Saturday night - Mr Blobby's ill-feted venture into the musical world is scary but has no relevance at this point...other than providing an opportunity for Editor King to add a great link). Helen responded will the answer 'None, we are fearless'. It is btw becoming a regular slot in the blog - Helen's words of wisdom. It is not because she extrapolates excessive amounts of wisdom (though she may) but because I generally sit next to her through rehearsals so get to enjoy her asides which are numerous and hilarious in equal measure.

It was a 'Cloudburst' free night (though subsequently a number of emails have gone round about the imagery in 'Cloudburst' and, let me tell you, we are a seriously poetic bunch - in fact, perusing Rudsambee emails is a little like reading the Romanticist correspondence of Wordsworth and Coleridge at present) but we crashed on with number of other pieces and are even coping with the joys of Chinese in 'Green Fir Forest'. We then moved on to the Nokia ringtone which Sebastian (our resident cellist and jazz fiend) said was virtually impossible to sing. I concur...how perculiar. Just to confirm, we are not singing the Nokia ringtone on Saturday night though if any budding composer out there fancies putting it in four parts and adding some Estonian lyrics, then we'll give it a go. We are nothing if not open to suggestions.

So we await Saturday night with our usual heady mix of fear, excitement, anticipation and last minute Czech-learning. Hopefully we'll see you all there.

CSW

A Summer Saturday at the Reid Hall

Well, it was a hot ol' day in Auld Reekie today. And we Rudsambee-lets were encamped at the Reid Hall for a run through of 'Cloudburst' with pianist, cymbalist and big bass drummist...drummer - sorry. Well I tell you what, two weeks ago this piece sounded like a jumble of random notes, today it sounded bloomin' brilliant. It is a very exciting piece to sing and we are loving it. I had a bit of a struggle with a rogue music stand, we are still battling through with a smaller thunder sheet than we would like and a loud band (plugged into a generator no less - eh?) were playing in Bristo Square, but largely we had a terrific rehearsal in the lead up to next week. My vote for funniest moment of the afternoon award goes to Anne for finding a jingly piano-like instrument to play in place of bells. The gentlemen of Rudsambee moved said instrument closer to Anne so she could play it while watching Maestro Boy. Her stance and one-handed keys playing reminded me of a proper rock synth star - brilliant!

Well after spending most of the practice bashing through 'Cloudburst' we moved on to 'Green Fir Forest' (actually I was impressed with how much of this we remembered - on a painful-listening gradation system of 1 to 10 it only ranked a 6 1/2...you've got to be pleased with that!). We then sang a bit of Tormis. 'Lulling' has now been offically re-Christened 'Baa-Ram-Ewe' due to the support parts. A sheep-based song for late Spring.

And in a final note, big congratulations have to go to Maestro Boy and Soprano extraordinaire Helen who both passed their degrees with flying colours this week. To have two real musicians with certificates in our ranks is very exciting for us mere mortals who will always struggle with sight-reading and identifying an harmonic forth.

Put next Saturday in your diaries folks. It is going to be fab! More on Wednesday.

CSW

It's starting to sound like an actual piece of music!

A pertinent reference to Cloudburst. Last night we sang it right through minus the bells (the bells, the bells!) and we (shock horror!) can actually sing it. Different Rudsambeelets had a chance to sit in the audience to listen to the rest of us and all looked thoroughly chuffed/moved/excited by this incredible Whitacre piece.

In fact, a week on Saturday will be a proper Whitacrefest (like Woodstock but without the long hair and pot. Probably.) with both Cloudburst and Five Hebrew Love Songs. We rattled through the latter last night as well. Now we hadn't sang this since last summer and Rudsambeelets have notoriously poor memories, but honestly, it sounded t'riffic. Can't wait to add a couple of instruments to the melee. Theremin anyone? (see a previous post for an explanation of this jolly instrument of brilliance. Ah, the cyclical nature of conversation a la Rudsambee).

Now last night the sopranos were branded as 'vicious' by Maestro Boy. Unfair you may think but the poor Bass1s (I hasten to add that all basses were present and correct last night) looked thoroughly forlorn while the sops bashed on through. As well as Whitacre-excitement we sang Jede Sedlak without music - sounded dreadful the first time, better the fifteenth. And we tried En Une Seule Fleur again for the first time since the heady days of 2008. A brief heads up to Mirren here as we had a couple of very jolly French pronunciation queries which I won't share with you. Suffice to say "fois toi" is very difficult for this Anglo-Saxon tongue to sing quickly... and in tune. "Devinir" also caused a little contention. Currently it sounds like a description of an inhabitant of of a southern English county (try saying it with flat North English vowels and you'll see what I mean). We'll get there eventually. Again, we were all a little amazed that we could remember this one, particularly Kay2 and Oliver2, neither of whom has ever sung it.

So we're now looking forward to Saturday for a rehearsal at the Reid Hall. Muchos jolliness. Bells, drums and jingly percussive sounds. What larks! Put the Saturday after in your diaries as you don't want to miss the excitement of Cloudburst. It is going to be brilliant.

Until Saturday

CSW