Totally lacking in inspiration today, I’m afraid, so I feel it is only fair to warn you that the following may be extremely boring. Only carry on reading if you really have nothing better to do with your time. A great gaping hole in your social calendar or a desperate need to prove yourself the world’s greatest procrastinator are the only excuses I’ll allow for further perusal of today’s meagre offering. Go and do something enjoyable – or at the very least, useful. Shoo.
On Wednesday the committee had a meeting before we started singing so there was no extra-rehearsal-instead-of-small-group. Because of this I arrived about fifteen minutes late which is inexcusable but I did say, didn’t I, in a previous edition, that the more time I have once I get home before I have to go out again the less likely I am to leave punctually? Quite how I managed to be fifteen minutes behind I have no idea, but I was. Luckily I wasn’t the only one and Tamsin – who joined us last week for the first time – arrived only seconds before me. I really don’t remember if anyone was even later but I doubt it.
While we’re on the subject of last week, my reason for not blogging was that this poor old machine was in hospital, riddled with viruses. It has been cured as far as possible but what the long term prognosis is I have no idea. As it has come back so much better but, for some reason, blocking my internet access – only mine, I think, the elder daughter (only other user at present) seems to be able to manage – I don’t know if Jenny or Chris acted as temporary blogger in my absence (about which anybody who would listen to me last Wednesday was informed in advance) so I may tell you things you already know. I will endeavour to stick solely to this week’s news in order to avoid repetition – an absolute must if I want to avoid boring to utter distraction any foolish- I mean loyal - reader who has ventured this far.
I arrived to find work in progress on a new piece: O Nata Lux de Lumine by Thomas Tallis. We have sung these words to a different tune. One by whom? For the moment it escapes me (or, anyway, I feel less than confident about typing the name that springs to mind and very much less willing to take the time to go and look it up) but I know that Christopher will insert the correct information in his squarey brackets before he posts this for me, won’t you Mr Scott? [that would be Morten Lauridsen's O Nata Lux] Ta muchly. For this Jenny and I have to sing Tenor 1 which is fine except that the Tenor line is written, of course, an octave up from where the actual notes are in the treble clef and I don’t need to tell you what that does to my brain even if it shouldn’t. However, it’s not too difficult a piece to get to grips with (once the eyes uncrossed).
Onto Quant j’ai ouy le tabourin by M. Debussy (old French, not incompetence) which is all about hearing a drum and therefore full of drum-y sounds, my favourite being the nasal ‘lon, lon, lon, lon’ which the T1s (yep, me again, with attendant confusion, as above) get to sing in bars 13, 14 and 15. I feel pretty confident I know what I’m doing in this one though occasionally forgetting to sing a bouche fermée (accents please, Chris [ok]) as instructed but I’m not the only one. There’s a lot of la-la-la-la-ing in this as there is in Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine. I think I mentioned before how strangely all this affects one’s tongue...
Some light relief in the form of St John’s Steed. (When Ollie suggested we try “the Tormis” Jenny said, “What, again?” and then “Are we singing another one then?” and then “Oh, no. That was Tallis.” How such confusion could occur is a matter for Mrs Fardell to explain because it is way beyond me. Actually, no it’s not really, is it? The Ts to start, the Ss at the end, the two syllables... ignore the music and words and then no wonder.) We sang this really well. What fun it is. So much so that I think everyone laughed out loud at the end. So as "not to get complacent" we did go over a few bars here and there where there was room for improvement. There’s always room for improvement.
On to Leonardo and we actually started at the beginning AND sang the tricky bit, bars 92-115, which the Boy Wonder has been avoiding for weeks. I found both these easier than the end where I’m still all at sea. There is little solo in bar 7 which requires someone (a Soprano) with a strong voice to sing ‘ma-a-a-a-a-a-a-chine’ in a bleating sort of fashion above everyone else singing normally. AnnaLauren was the obvious choice. Ollie encouraged her to sing like "a Texan sheep" and so she did. And once she stops feeling utterly ridiculous and really goes for it (which she will) the effect will be stunning - very whirr-y, wind in the ailerons; if, indeed, Leo had such things on his craft. I’m sure he must have.
Imagine if you haven’t read this far as per instruction and I have wasted time trying to impress you with my use of technical terminology.
We spent quite a lot of time on this piece. It was hard work. When, at about 9.15, Ollie asked what the time was a rather pie-eyed Robin took a deep breath and, having answered truthfully, admitted that he had “..almost considered lying”. Almost. Bless. What an honourable chappie, he is to be sure.
Voila. C’est tout. Things to do (shopping), places to go (Waitrose), people to see (husband home from Germany) (or check-out personage) (or both, I suppose).
‘Til next week.
xx
Friday, 18 February 2011
Saturday, 5 February 2011
For lo! the wind was blusterous
Wasn’t and isn’t it just? I should be going out to the shops but I really can’t summon up the energy or spirit necessary to venture forth. I went out in the worst of it yesterday (it was bad but not so very bad when I left the house but became quite vicious in terms of freezing wind and driving rain once I got too far down the road to make it worth turning for home again) and my coat is not yet dry or my face thawed out (still, that’ll save on the botox bills, eh?) so for now I am staying in and food and other fundamentals will have to wait. I won’t starve though I may struggle. (Emergency food parcels, anyone? Anything will do!)
At least our wayward weather waited until after rehearsal on Wednesday evening to really get going, although both Sebastian and Harriet had to battle against the elements on their bicycles to get there. Sebastian looked so bewildered and exhausted when he arrived that I thought he must be going down with something but he assured me it was just the journey that had floored him. Harriet looked fine and fresh-faced which is what comes of being young and fit but she admitted to having struggled quite significantly uphill against the wind on her way. Presumably that means she’d be heading downhill on her return so let’s hope she managed to stay in control and didn’t end up careering off course and over the horizon. We need her.
We began proceedings with a look at a new piece – a traditional Syrian/Iraqi song arranged by Salim Bali called High Above the Palm Tree. It is lovely though the pronunciation of the Arabic words is proving tricky – not a surprise. There is a sheet provided with instructions of how to pronounce the various variously accented vowels and what is meant by the ‘ symbol and the dots underneath the occasional letter (well – they tell us there are dots underneath occasional letters but so far we’ve not found any) but this is all very well. It is much more difficult to interpret this well-meaning helpfulness than whoever provided it can possibly imagine. Add to this advice as to how some of the throaty sounds should be produced ("imagine you are cleaning your glasses and breathe out hard" – not so easy in the middle of a song) and the fact that the most oft encountered vowel sound (an ‘o’ with a line on the top) is not mentioned at all and you see the problem. Compensation lies in the fact that we are allowed to sing a very brash ‘ay’ sound (this we can do because we do it a great deal anyway particularly when it sounds really horrid and inappropriate) instead of having to ‘ah’. In fact there is an irony here in the fact that Ollie is struggling to get us to sound brash enough. Of course if we succeed in pleasing him in this respect it may bode badly for his blood-pressure when he has to try and get us to sound sweet and rounded again – brassy and bel canto do not bide well together.
We started looking at this before everyone had arrived so there was a bit of shuffling around to get people in a position where they were close to their musical allies. Jenny got lost across the other side of the room from we altos but she seemed perfectly at ease between the sops and the basses. Her first fit of giggles erupted not long after she arrived when she placed some sheets of paper on the table and Susan spluttered "Good God, she’s got her music with her". This IS an unusual occurrence these days – even during concerts Jenny’s file is often empty. Working at a proper job (a few hours a week) and being organised is, as I believe I have had occasion to mention before, something our Jen finds problematic. But she was, indeed, in possession of her music (or what passed for it, anyway; it may, of course, have been an extensive shopping list or a developing short story. Or some grubby old paper she’d snatched up on leaving home to fool us all) and so she was able to carol away without leaning over a shoulder or straining her neck (or someone else’s (mine)) for a change.
Next up, St John’s horsey. This is really coming on now. Susan did a lovely demonstration of a trotting steed – well, it has to be a pony as she’s so small; can a pony be dubbed a ‘steed’? – and I suggested that we have her displaying her interpretive equine dancing skills in front of the choir whenever we sing this in concert – I’m sure it would go down a storm.
There again, do we need another storm?
Just a thought.
Our final job of the evening was to make some more headway with Leonardo. Starting, as usual, with bar 30 we sang and practised our way through to the end of bar 91 and then picked up again at the last note of 115 and sang to the end (well, most people did – more of that later). The bars between 91 and 115 are, according to our Lord and Master, "terrifying". Goody. I presume he considers the bars up to 30 equally scary as we’ve not tried them (officially) yet though the women had a glance at them last week. Personally I find the last 7 pages rather trying. I had to leave my other alto compadres once we reached page 21 and go to join Jenny in the (vain) hope that she’d be singing the right thing and therefore prove of some assistance. I think between us we got every third or fourth note right. As for the last bit – on the face of it this is easy. On the face of it. I managed to sing some of the right notes (in the wrong places, naturally) and wrong notes in the right places (if that’s even possible) but, on the whole, the wrong note in the wrong place entirely was all I could manage. Sing it properly?? Not a chance. And I’ve no idea what Mrs Fardell was up to but I don’t think she was much closer to the music, as written, than I was. I’m afraid this resulted in complete hysteria. Just as well we were at the end of the evening’s work or the BW might have been a tad annoyed because I could hardly breathe and had tears pouring down my face and Jen was as bad. I have an uncomfortable feeling she may have been laughing AT me rather than with but, hey! I can take it. No one could say that her amusement was misplaced.
So to notes – "Any chance you two could control yourselves for a moment?" asked the patient Anne. "About as much chance as of us singing in tune," was my reply. But we did - eventually. A decision about the Poland trip – no for this year. Not enough of us able to commit. But a yes for London in May, so that gives us something to work for and to look forward to. Anne won’t be able to make it, neither will Anna Lauren or Luke (who will either be a dad by then or anticipating the imminent arrival of offspring) and Chris feels it is unlikely that he will make it as he has a pile of college work to hand in the following week (is this a good excuse? Several people thought not!) which is a shame but we will manage without them (just) and a weekend in London will be fun and frolicky for the rest of us.
you soon xx
At least our wayward weather waited until after rehearsal on Wednesday evening to really get going, although both Sebastian and Harriet had to battle against the elements on their bicycles to get there. Sebastian looked so bewildered and exhausted when he arrived that I thought he must be going down with something but he assured me it was just the journey that had floored him. Harriet looked fine and fresh-faced which is what comes of being young and fit but she admitted to having struggled quite significantly uphill against the wind on her way. Presumably that means she’d be heading downhill on her return so let’s hope she managed to stay in control and didn’t end up careering off course and over the horizon. We need her.
We began proceedings with a look at a new piece – a traditional Syrian/Iraqi song arranged by Salim Bali called High Above the Palm Tree. It is lovely though the pronunciation of the Arabic words is proving tricky – not a surprise. There is a sheet provided with instructions of how to pronounce the various variously accented vowels and what is meant by the ‘ symbol and the dots underneath the occasional letter (well – they tell us there are dots underneath occasional letters but so far we’ve not found any) but this is all very well. It is much more difficult to interpret this well-meaning helpfulness than whoever provided it can possibly imagine. Add to this advice as to how some of the throaty sounds should be produced ("imagine you are cleaning your glasses and breathe out hard" – not so easy in the middle of a song) and the fact that the most oft encountered vowel sound (an ‘o’ with a line on the top) is not mentioned at all and you see the problem. Compensation lies in the fact that we are allowed to sing a very brash ‘ay’ sound (this we can do because we do it a great deal anyway particularly when it sounds really horrid and inappropriate) instead of having to ‘ah’. In fact there is an irony here in the fact that Ollie is struggling to get us to sound brash enough. Of course if we succeed in pleasing him in this respect it may bode badly for his blood-pressure when he has to try and get us to sound sweet and rounded again – brassy and bel canto do not bide well together.
We started looking at this before everyone had arrived so there was a bit of shuffling around to get people in a position where they were close to their musical allies. Jenny got lost across the other side of the room from we altos but she seemed perfectly at ease between the sops and the basses. Her first fit of giggles erupted not long after she arrived when she placed some sheets of paper on the table and Susan spluttered "Good God, she’s got her music with her". This IS an unusual occurrence these days – even during concerts Jenny’s file is often empty. Working at a proper job (a few hours a week) and being organised is, as I believe I have had occasion to mention before, something our Jen finds problematic. But she was, indeed, in possession of her music (or what passed for it, anyway; it may, of course, have been an extensive shopping list or a developing short story. Or some grubby old paper she’d snatched up on leaving home to fool us all) and so she was able to carol away without leaning over a shoulder or straining her neck (or someone else’s (mine)) for a change.
Next up, St John’s horsey. This is really coming on now. Susan did a lovely demonstration of a trotting steed – well, it has to be a pony as she’s so small; can a pony be dubbed a ‘steed’? – and I suggested that we have her displaying her interpretive equine dancing skills in front of the choir whenever we sing this in concert – I’m sure it would go down a storm.
There again, do we need another storm?
Just a thought.
Our final job of the evening was to make some more headway with Leonardo. Starting, as usual, with bar 30 we sang and practised our way through to the end of bar 91 and then picked up again at the last note of 115 and sang to the end (well, most people did – more of that later). The bars between 91 and 115 are, according to our Lord and Master, "terrifying". Goody. I presume he considers the bars up to 30 equally scary as we’ve not tried them (officially) yet though the women had a glance at them last week. Personally I find the last 7 pages rather trying. I had to leave my other alto compadres once we reached page 21 and go to join Jenny in the (vain) hope that she’d be singing the right thing and therefore prove of some assistance. I think between us we got every third or fourth note right. As for the last bit – on the face of it this is easy. On the face of it. I managed to sing some of the right notes (in the wrong places, naturally) and wrong notes in the right places (if that’s even possible) but, on the whole, the wrong note in the wrong place entirely was all I could manage. Sing it properly?? Not a chance. And I’ve no idea what Mrs Fardell was up to but I don’t think she was much closer to the music, as written, than I was. I’m afraid this resulted in complete hysteria. Just as well we were at the end of the evening’s work or the BW might have been a tad annoyed because I could hardly breathe and had tears pouring down my face and Jen was as bad. I have an uncomfortable feeling she may have been laughing AT me rather than with but, hey! I can take it. No one could say that her amusement was misplaced.
So to notes – "Any chance you two could control yourselves for a moment?" asked the patient Anne. "About as much chance as of us singing in tune," was my reply. But we did - eventually. A decision about the Poland trip – no for this year. Not enough of us able to commit. But a yes for London in May, so that gives us something to work for and to look forward to. Anne won’t be able to make it, neither will Anna Lauren or Luke (who will either be a dad by then or anticipating the imminent arrival of offspring) and Chris feels it is unlikely that he will make it as he has a pile of college work to hand in the following week (is this a good excuse? Several people thought not!) which is a shame but we will manage without them (just) and a weekend in London will be fun and frolicky for the rest of us.
you soon xx
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