I know, pretty impressive stuff but we really are currently learning a song by ear and it's in Czech though it must be said we haven't actually looked at the words yet. It is a jolly little ditty as you heard last week and we found it hard not to dance... or at least move rhythmically. Kind of. Jen's hands in the air number was particularly striking.
The Rudsambee-lets were all a little sleepy last night for some reason. Some folks indeed had particular reasons - both Maestro Boy and Diva Helen had heard the tweeting morning birds that morning as they finished off their dissertations. Congrats to both on handing in.
So what did this lethargic musical group do last night? Well, we spent most of the evening working through 'Cloudburst' and, in particular, the 'tough section' in the middle. Muchos jolly fun. Let me tell you something interesting, there are no lisps in Mexican. Seemingly our South American friends have never experienced the difficulties of speech impediments, indeed the art of speech therapy is entirely unnecessary. At least that's what A-L said and she speaks Spanish with a cool accent and everything.
We also had a long conversation about the way to click. Monsieur Wexler had seen a pretty spectacular version of 'Cloudburst' recently, as lef by the composer himself, and tried to describe the way the choir clicked. Maestro Boy took over and asked for 'big wet clicks' and then for clicks at, as Arno prompted, a 'higher frequency'. Queue quote of the night from Kay numero uno: "do you mean faster? Then why didn;t you just say faster!?" Ah, plain English! I particularly enjoyed Anne's Latin translation of 'fast clicking' which was something like "accelerando clickio". Brilliant! 'Cloudburst' is really coming on and is great fun to rehearse.
Anyways, just to tell anyone who cares (that's y'all), you can now book your seat at the 'Cloudburst' concert in June. It's a free night for charidee but you can reserve your place (we'll put our coats over them or something).
Until next week then...
CSW
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Saturday, 18 April 2009
Coming soon to a Rudsambee near you:
In the absence of a Claireblogger, I come to you with some words of Rud.
Coming back after a week of no rehearsal (note that I don't say 'a week off', as everyone agreed that they had Looked At Their Music Very Hard last Wednesday evening) is always a bit of a struggle, so Claire2 jollied us up a bit, jiggling and slapping ourselves just enough to induce Jenny hysterics. Master Oliver then made us sing some rather fast little bits and pieces to get us in the mood, after which he took his life - and his sanity - into his hands, announcing that we would learn a new piece aurally and that we had just been singing the beginning of it.
This will be ourterrifying exciting new Czech piece which we stole receives from our good friends Svatobor last year. It's a little bit, erm, fast?
I am told we will not end up with it as fast, and that we will be more 'together' that this bunch.
We got through the first half of this with a little work, and then settled in to see if we could remember Cloudburst. Which we could, mostly. But a lot of it seems much harder when you've previously thought you had perfected it only to forget...
And that was pretty much that! Suddenly it's 930 and Anne talks while John brews. We're now on track for the concert in the Reid Hall, which will be FREE with a collection for charity (more details soon, promise!), followed by the trip to York to see Soon Amore. Deep (quiet) breath, boys and girls!
In other news, a couple of people came along to the Portrait Gallery concert with their cameras (we shan't mention the third one who was refused entry ostensibly because of his camera gear, in spite of the organiser having OK-ed this) and one kindly passed the fruits of his labour to us. It's so dark in there he deserves a medal for getting anything, never mind such nice shots of us in action.
And with that I shall bid y'all a sweet adieu. Hopefully someone more coherent will be with you again next week.
Chris
Coming back after a week of no rehearsal (note that I don't say 'a week off', as everyone agreed that they had Looked At Their Music Very Hard last Wednesday evening) is always a bit of a struggle, so Claire2 jollied us up a bit, jiggling and slapping ourselves just enough to induce Jenny hysterics. Master Oliver then made us sing some rather fast little bits and pieces to get us in the mood, after which he took his life - and his sanity - into his hands, announcing that we would learn a new piece aurally and that we had just been singing the beginning of it.
This will be our
I am told we will not end up with it as fast, and that we will be more 'together' that this bunch.
We got through the first half of this with a little work, and then settled in to see if we could remember Cloudburst. Which we could, mostly. But a lot of it seems much harder when you've previously thought you had perfected it only to forget...
And that was pretty much that! Suddenly it's 930 and Anne talks while John brews. We're now on track for the concert in the Reid Hall, which will be FREE with a collection for charity (more details soon, promise!), followed by the trip to York to see Soon Amore. Deep (quiet) breath, boys and girls!
In other news, a couple of people came along to the Portrait Gallery concert with their cameras (we shan't mention the third one who was refused entry ostensibly because of his camera gear, in spite of the organiser having OK-ed this) and one kindly passed the fruits of his labour to us. It's so dark in there he deserves a medal for getting anything, never mind such nice shots of us in action.
And with that I shall bid y'all a sweet adieu. Hopefully someone more coherent will be with you again next week.
Chris
Friday, 17 April 2009
Singing the benefits of egg on toast...
...indeed that is all I have been able to sing about this week having had two days off my work with a sickness bug and having to miss Rudsambee. Therefore, in spite of Christopher's claims to the contrary, I have very little of wit to share with you. Rather than write almost the same presumptive, imaginative post as last week I will refer you back to it and instead boast about the amount of Easter eggs we received this year. Goodness, we have twelve (minus three now it most be said) Easter eggs stacked in our kitchen. And very delicious they are too though I must say I doubt we will wade our way through them before Christmas! There is nothing better than Easter egg chocolate folks. Anyways, on that wistful note I bid you farewell until next week when hopefully normal service will be resumed.
Until then...
CSW
Until then...
CSW
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Imagine there's no Rudsambee, it's easy if you try...
So blog fans, you may be wondering where your regular update is this week. Ah, well, the Rudsambee-lets decided to take a week off. All the best music acts do it; after a particularly taxing round of gigs, media appearances and hotel rooms, they decide to take a wee break. Granted Rudsambee only performed one concert last week (for 40 min it must be noted) and only had one showbiz party (during which I can confirm that no TVs were thrown out of the window and no illicit substances consumed - in spite of the hostess's daughter mistaking 'Wii party' for 'weed party'), but still a well-needed rest was in order. So we took the night off in the anticipation of returning next Wednesday with a renewed vigour for the delights of ‘Cloudburst’ etc. So since I have nothing to report I thought I would make up what potentially could have happened at last night’s rehearsal. There is a regular pattern so it isn’t too difficult. Here goes:
We began with a Jenny warm-up which caused great hilarity and some perplexity. We then went on to the singing in earnest, starting with something tonally-challenged from everyone’s favourite Estonian composer. This piece meant that the sopranos had to sing on one extremely high note for 40 beats and the altos had the tune. Then a bit of Whitacre (which we all duly agreed sounded beautiful and was great to sing). On to a piece of early music that left the tenors cowering terrified in the corner. Rufus (the cat, in case I have neglected to mention it previously) came in, wailed loudly and was picked up in an undignified manner by Christopher. Most of the sopranos by this stage in proceedings are sitting down looking exhausted (except Alison – we give her special dispensation to be sitting down already).
Anne has already made at least fourteen pained faces (perfect pitch is indeed a burden that few could shoulder) and twenty-nine suggestions to the tenors. Jenny has giggled over thirteen times (once in a loud guffaw). Christopher has tickled nine unsuspecting Rudsambee-lets and Maestro Boy has made his - now trademarked - panicked eye expression only twice. We all decide that the opening bars of our new piece sound like ‘Amazing Grace’ (incredible how many songs begin like this). There have also been at least forty-three questions about pronunciation including thirty-two about the correct way to say ‘regarder’ and four chastising our Gaelic ‘t’s. The end of the evening draws nigh and we sing through ‘Bogoroditse’ (affectionately known as ‘Bog Off’) and are amazed once again at the ‘boys solo bit’ (if you stand in front of the basses for this section, you can feel the ground shaking, and Robin recently disclosed that he spends the climax of the piece trying to sing louder than Christopher).
Then on to announcements which Anne always ably leads – it is a well known fact that the Rudsambee-lets can barely tie their own shoelaces and require Anne to do almost everything. We have a comparatively brief discussion about uniform (the main bone of contention presently is the men’s shirts which have gradually turned from red into a variety of pinks. They don’t look very manly) John then makes his obligatory cry (‘anyone for coffee, tea, fancy tea?’) and we conclude. Generally Rudsambee conversation digresses into a myriad of topics. Douglas will announce that it is someone’s birthday, will present them with a card that we have almost all forgotten to sign and a raucous version of ‘happy birthday’ (with a top soprano line provided generally by A-L) in struck up. We then disperse and Rachel drives me back to sunny Leith while we discuss the finer points of parenting, progressive rock music and the beauty of the Rudsambee-lets dulcet tones. I generally make a cup of tea upon arrival home but I’m afraid I cannot speak for the other group members so I will leave that to your discretion.
Well, there we have it, last night’s (imagined) rehearsal. They say there are only seven storylines in the world. This is undoubtedly true, but when it comes to Rudsambee, there is really only one - but it is always so very jolly.
CSW
We began with a Jenny warm-up which caused great hilarity and some perplexity. We then went on to the singing in earnest, starting with something tonally-challenged from everyone’s favourite Estonian composer. This piece meant that the sopranos had to sing on one extremely high note for 40 beats and the altos had the tune. Then a bit of Whitacre (which we all duly agreed sounded beautiful and was great to sing). On to a piece of early music that left the tenors cowering terrified in the corner. Rufus (the cat, in case I have neglected to mention it previously) came in, wailed loudly and was picked up in an undignified manner by Christopher. Most of the sopranos by this stage in proceedings are sitting down looking exhausted (except Alison – we give her special dispensation to be sitting down already).
Anne has already made at least fourteen pained faces (perfect pitch is indeed a burden that few could shoulder) and twenty-nine suggestions to the tenors. Jenny has giggled over thirteen times (once in a loud guffaw). Christopher has tickled nine unsuspecting Rudsambee-lets and Maestro Boy has made his - now trademarked - panicked eye expression only twice. We all decide that the opening bars of our new piece sound like ‘Amazing Grace’ (incredible how many songs begin like this). There have also been at least forty-three questions about pronunciation including thirty-two about the correct way to say ‘regarder’ and four chastising our Gaelic ‘t’s. The end of the evening draws nigh and we sing through ‘Bogoroditse’ (affectionately known as ‘Bog Off’) and are amazed once again at the ‘boys solo bit’ (if you stand in front of the basses for this section, you can feel the ground shaking, and Robin recently disclosed that he spends the climax of the piece trying to sing louder than Christopher).
Then on to announcements which Anne always ably leads – it is a well known fact that the Rudsambee-lets can barely tie their own shoelaces and require Anne to do almost everything. We have a comparatively brief discussion about uniform (the main bone of contention presently is the men’s shirts which have gradually turned from red into a variety of pinks. They don’t look very manly) John then makes his obligatory cry (‘anyone for coffee, tea, fancy tea?’) and we conclude. Generally Rudsambee conversation digresses into a myriad of topics. Douglas will announce that it is someone’s birthday, will present them with a card that we have almost all forgotten to sign and a raucous version of ‘happy birthday’ (with a top soprano line provided generally by A-L) in struck up. We then disperse and Rachel drives me back to sunny Leith while we discuss the finer points of parenting, progressive rock music and the beauty of the Rudsambee-lets dulcet tones. I generally make a cup of tea upon arrival home but I’m afraid I cannot speak for the other group members so I will leave that to your discretion.
Well, there we have it, last night’s (imagined) rehearsal. They say there are only seven storylines in the world. This is undoubtedly true, but when it comes to Rudsambee, there is really only one - but it is always so very jolly.
CSW
Saturday, 4 April 2009
It's my party and I'll eat too much, laugh too much and enjoy the talents of the Rudsambeelets if I want to.
Well, another day, another blog post. Just a quick moment to fill you in on the Rudsambee party as promised. Great big thanks and hugs to Claire2 who hosted a tremendous do, and pulled an unexpected birthday cake out of the hat for Jenny, whose birthday it turned out to be. Indeed we concluded that she rent out her maitre d' services for wedding and bar miztvahs. We particularly enjoyed her comment during the obligatory party piece session, "well, we may as well get you out of the way". Classic! Good food eaten by all as usual. If there is one thing Rudsambee do well (other than sing of course) it is provide a big spread at 'pot-luck suppers'. Yum!
As promised in the last post Robin and I played a storming rendition of a Steely Dan hit - just like the original (!?) - on Guitar Hero. We may well start a band, we are after all two bohemian ex-academics with artistic sensibilities. And there were a number of interesting turns from the Rudsambeelets. Songs, piano duets, poetry, cello playing and even a joyous number from the Wexlers (just like Sonny and Cher) which made a number of us weep with laughter. I left early just as Guitar Hero was starting up again. My guess is they are still perfecting the Van Halen riffs. I'm very sure that there will be pictures when Chief Editor returns as he had his camera in our face as usual.
Finally two questions which brought us a moment's perplexion (I'm pretty sure that isn't a word, but it should be so I'm adding it to the lexicon) - man that kinda rhymes, like a rap :-) - oh, sorry the questions...why is it that one day you wake up and you can't do a handstand anymore and what would be the best means of transporting the country of Chile - Brazil you can just roll up like a paper hankie but Chile is long and thin. A troubling country to take anywhere else. The latter question was, as expected, initiated by the innate surreal genius of 'Ringo' Robin. Answers to either of these on a postcard please.
Until we meet again
CSW
As promised in the last post Robin and I played a storming rendition of a Steely Dan hit - just like the original (!?) - on Guitar Hero. We may well start a band, we are after all two bohemian ex-academics with artistic sensibilities. And there were a number of interesting turns from the Rudsambeelets. Songs, piano duets, poetry, cello playing and even a joyous number from the Wexlers (just like Sonny and Cher) which made a number of us weep with laughter. I left early just as Guitar Hero was starting up again. My guess is they are still perfecting the Van Halen riffs. I'm very sure that there will be pictures when Chief Editor returns as he had his camera in our face as usual.
Finally two questions which brought us a moment's perplexion (I'm pretty sure that isn't a word, but it should be so I'm adding it to the lexicon) - man that kinda rhymes, like a rap :-) - oh, sorry the questions...why is it that one day you wake up and you can't do a handstand anymore and what would be the best means of transporting the country of Chile - Brazil you can just roll up like a paper hankie but Chile is long and thin. A troubling country to take anywhere else. The latter question was, as expected, initiated by the innate surreal genius of 'Ringo' Robin. Answers to either of these on a postcard please.
Until we meet again
CSW
Friday, 3 April 2009
The whole week...so brace youself!
Well, a double whammy today folks. Apologies for the lateness of the posting. Trying to think of an imaginative excuse but can’t so I’ll stop trying. Wednesday’s rehearsal first of all then, and we started with a bit of alliterative speculation as Alison led us through a round of "Maybe my Mummy may go to Miami and maybe my Mummy may not." Try it... tough, huh? And no, we didn’t come to any final resolution as to the answer to this question; my guess is, she's probably not in Miami.
Anyways, we crashed on with a run through of most of our repertoire for the Portrait Gallery concert. A couple of highlights for me: Oliver2 and Kay2’s faces when confronted with the delights of the Gaelic Set certainly was one of them. I forgot how mad (and complicated) this piece sounds when you don’t know it. I remember back through the mists of time in Mummy Elaine’s car on the way to Arran, going through the first (third?) Gaelic set and desperately trying to bash the words into our heads. Now we are on the second (second?) Gaelic set (I’ll get complaints from some of our older Rudsambee-lets who will probably claim that this is the 29th Gaelic Set they have attempted, but heigh ho!) and it still proves a bit of a workout. Oliver2 and Kay2 looked as if someone had bashed them from behind with a large carrot - startled and ultimately confused as to the meaning of it all.
We went swiftly through the Tormis (rather brilliant comment from Anne – the end of Kanarbik has an Estonian word that sounds like ‘leek’. Anne could not remember this part on our final run-through but could, and I quote, "remember it was some sort of vegetable" – the mind boggles; what was going through her mind? "Turnips, carrots, runner beans, ah no - leeks!") which sounded quite good (may I say in another unnecessary parenthetical moment that there are now two whole references to carrots in one blog post - pretty impressive vegetable promotion for you there). And so on to Ae Fond Kiss. Despite the fact that Diva Helen will not thank me for it, I’d like to point out that her first verse always sounds beautiful. It must also be said, it sounds infinitely more beautiful when the rest of the choir sing the accompanying parts in tune. Alison had some trouble with the words and ended up with "Deep in heart wrung tears I’ll wedge thee" - "wedge" being a combination of the words "wage" and "pledge". Goodness, that adds a whole different image to proceedings!
All in, a good pre-gig rehearsal and, although "Green Fir Forest" still felt a little like holding on to a high ledge by your fingertips while trying to play the banjo, we were quietly confident.
And so to last night. It is a great shame that the Portrait Gallery will be closing for so long because it really does have a great acoustic and we enjoy singing there, even if the audience are all forced to perch somewhat precariously on what look to be camping chairs - it adds a little excitement to the event. The audience was, as always, large - in the number sense, I am not making any comment about individual size, particularly after drawing attention to the camping stools. As usual we warmed up in the old library, a room with the best acoustic in Edinburgh. The concert itself went very well. The opening two Tormis pieces seemed to shock the audience into submission from the off, indeed, surely this was the first time that Estonian folk musical clashes were teamed with classic Irish folkie number Star of the County Down. We are nothing if not eclectic! "Envoi", as always, was a terrifying journey of horror for the Soprano2 part and we nearly made it intact. A number of people were impressed by our attempt at Mandarin in "Green Fir Forest" and "Crucifixus" was great in spite of the exhaustion that suddenly came upon a number of us after a seriously big sing. The key with this latter piece is to get your third note bang on key. Miss it and you’re dead. Fortunately we all hit the third notes and the relief was palpable. The audience seemed to appreciate it and Maestro Boy looked like the clichéd cat with cream.
A couple of important notations – this was Kay2’s first concert with us so hoorah for that. And it was Rachel’s first since the arrival of Baby Bel. Great to have you back.
Now there is only the impending delight of wiping the floor with everyone using my favourite Guitar Hero riffs at the Rudsambee party on Saturday night. I’ll write something (probably less than profound) after that.
Until then, thanks to all who came last night.
CSW
Anyways, we crashed on with a run through of most of our repertoire for the Portrait Gallery concert. A couple of highlights for me: Oliver2 and Kay2’s faces when confronted with the delights of the Gaelic Set certainly was one of them. I forgot how mad (and complicated) this piece sounds when you don’t know it. I remember back through the mists of time in Mummy Elaine’s car on the way to Arran, going through the first (third?) Gaelic set and desperately trying to bash the words into our heads. Now we are on the second (second?) Gaelic set (I’ll get complaints from some of our older Rudsambee-lets who will probably claim that this is the 29th Gaelic Set they have attempted, but heigh ho!) and it still proves a bit of a workout. Oliver2 and Kay2 looked as if someone had bashed them from behind with a large carrot - startled and ultimately confused as to the meaning of it all.
We went swiftly through the Tormis (rather brilliant comment from Anne – the end of Kanarbik has an Estonian word that sounds like ‘leek’. Anne could not remember this part on our final run-through but could, and I quote, "remember it was some sort of vegetable" – the mind boggles; what was going through her mind? "Turnips, carrots, runner beans, ah no - leeks!") which sounded quite good (may I say in another unnecessary parenthetical moment that there are now two whole references to carrots in one blog post - pretty impressive vegetable promotion for you there). And so on to Ae Fond Kiss. Despite the fact that Diva Helen will not thank me for it, I’d like to point out that her first verse always sounds beautiful. It must also be said, it sounds infinitely more beautiful when the rest of the choir sing the accompanying parts in tune. Alison had some trouble with the words and ended up with "Deep in heart wrung tears I’ll wedge thee" - "wedge" being a combination of the words "wage" and "pledge". Goodness, that adds a whole different image to proceedings!
All in, a good pre-gig rehearsal and, although "Green Fir Forest" still felt a little like holding on to a high ledge by your fingertips while trying to play the banjo, we were quietly confident.
And so to last night. It is a great shame that the Portrait Gallery will be closing for so long because it really does have a great acoustic and we enjoy singing there, even if the audience are all forced to perch somewhat precariously on what look to be camping chairs - it adds a little excitement to the event. The audience was, as always, large - in the number sense, I am not making any comment about individual size, particularly after drawing attention to the camping stools. As usual we warmed up in the old library, a room with the best acoustic in Edinburgh. The concert itself went very well. The opening two Tormis pieces seemed to shock the audience into submission from the off, indeed, surely this was the first time that Estonian folk musical clashes were teamed with classic Irish folkie number Star of the County Down. We are nothing if not eclectic! "Envoi", as always, was a terrifying journey of horror for the Soprano2 part and we nearly made it intact. A number of people were impressed by our attempt at Mandarin in "Green Fir Forest" and "Crucifixus" was great in spite of the exhaustion that suddenly came upon a number of us after a seriously big sing. The key with this latter piece is to get your third note bang on key. Miss it and you’re dead. Fortunately we all hit the third notes and the relief was palpable. The audience seemed to appreciate it and Maestro Boy looked like the clichéd cat with cream.
A couple of important notations – this was Kay2’s first concert with us so hoorah for that. And it was Rachel’s first since the arrival of Baby Bel. Great to have you back.
Now there is only the impending delight of wiping the floor with everyone using my favourite Guitar Hero riffs at the Rudsambee party on Saturday night. I’ll write something (probably less than profound) after that.
Until then, thanks to all who came last night.
CSW
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