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.