Lord a’ mercy, jus’ what is we doin’ wrong? Now Alison is bidding us farewell and quite soon, too. She is going to sing with us at the Wigtown Book Festival and then... off into the sunset! So, ten a penny as sopranos are, we are obliged to search for another as well as a tenor or two (maybe three to be on the safe side; they’re slippery creatures and can’t be trusted to stay around for more than a month or two – unless they’re Chris or Douglas who have to stay because no one else would have them) and a bass. Lawks! Thank goodness we have an open-rehearsal-come-and-sing-with-us(-please-please-please) session coming up. My idea, I’ll have you know (and I shall happily take all credit for it until no one turns up and we are left to entertain only ourselves). The plan is to have lots of fun, but not so much that we scare prospective members off. Jenny is banned. Sebastian is on the reserve list and Christopher is going to be obliged to have normal hair and to cover his legs.
Last night was a lot of fun again – more work on Desh. We had to recap on the tabla boing-ing for those who weren’t there last week. It has to be said that the basses are really rather good at this. Try as we all might the effect is not quite the same in the upper registers – though it’s not bad and the effect is always interesting if not arresting, as it is with the rumblers. To add to the general fun and merriment we played at being sitars, too, this week. This involved attempting to get whistle-y sort of harmonies into the voice whilst humming – that open mouthed humming which has people looking as if they’ve lost their last marble [otherwise known as overtone singing]. It is most extraordinarily difficult but apparently there are people in the world who can drone away on one note while getting their whistle to play a proper tune on top. All I managed was nearly to asphyxiate myself. I think I misinterpreted Ollie’s instructions. When he said to close up the nose by sealing the top of the mouth off with the tongue I managed to seal up the whole lot so no air at all was getting either in or out. No harmonies for me but very pretty stars before my eyes and a momentary glimpse of heaven. I shall practise in the shower as instructed – as long as I’m alone in the house. Ah, but then who will rescue me when I pass out? This question arose before, if you remember. Last time it had to do with holding loooooong notes. Did you ever imagine that singing was such a dangerous, life-threatening exercise? Alas! Perhaps, ere long, another alto will be required as well.
The only other things we did were Aurora Rutilat – an old piece being revived for Wigtown and very lovely it is too - and Mary’s Song, ditto, in which Jenny gets to sing a beautiful solo in the first verse. (Only the first verse. Natalie and Heather, it seemed, were all for letting her sing every verse solo but, really, she needs to be kept in her place.) We are attempting to be poetic for the Book Festival, as is fitting you will agree.
So – c’est tout. I’m sure, as usual, I have missed out the best bits [such as referring to certain people as being foghorn-like]. Some of that is done on purpose as too much bean-spilling would have Rudsambee down to me and those of us who are rather too free with the insults – actually, that is nearly everyone so no worries there then – but harmony is essential in a choir, is it not? And who am I to go and spoil it???
Laters!
Thursday, 9 September 2010
Thursday, 2 September 2010
Hell’s Piano is Full of Moths
My, Rudsambee related goings-on don’t ‘alf offer up some excellent potential book titles! How’s the above for an example? Explanation later.
Well, here I am in spite of concerns expressed last week (it was this week, actually, wasn’t it, by the time I got round to blogging?) because the Munich plane doesn’t leave until late afternoon in the summer (it’s summer until October, you’ll be delighted to hear) and so I have time to enlighten you as to last night’s events. ‘Events’ is an inappropriate word. Particularly in the plural. Maybe I can squeeze one eventful moment from the proceedings but that will be all, I fear.
We were down on numbers – this seems to be becoming a habit and not one of which your bloggetteer approves, btw – no Sebastian, no Luke, no Natalie 1 (or 2 for that matter), no Alison, no Anne and Christopher arrived but left again very quickly once he realised he wasn’t going to miss much [and had more exciting thing to run off for]. Ollie was somewhat tardy, Helen even more so. However, in all the self-congratulatory excitement of post-absolutely-fantastic-concert, no one cared at all.
And, delightfully, we had the company of Heather again who joined us for the pre-concert rehearsal last week - about which I didn’t have time to tell you - and is to sing with us at our next concert and hopefully many more after that. She is an alto and a very good one from what I have gathered so far – certainly she was the only one of us last night who noticed that our ‘difficult’ entry was only a matter of singing up one note from the sopranos. Most illuminating and extraordinarily helpful. Downside? Well, she is petite and very pretty so I shan’t want to stand anywhere near her at concerts but will no doubt find myself, feeling like a heifer, right alongside. Just on a personal note (for a change), I find it remarkable that in the company of tall people I feel entirely insignificant and therefore rather embarrassed to be around; however, put me in the company of the small, in which you might imagine I’d enjoy a feeling of superiority and consequent self-importance and I feel over-large, ungainly and clumsy – none of which I am in reality. What I am, obviously, is perennially dissatisfied with my lot. How unattractive. Ah-ha!
Cod-psychology enough for one day, methinks.
Back to last night. John suggested that I do some sort of a warm-up and I was happy to oblige with a few silly physical jerks before handing over to Jenny for the technical stuff (ie singing and breathing which takes more thought than I was willing to attempt on such short notice). By the time this was over the Boy Wonder had arrived, rather sheepishly admitting that he’d had no time to come up with anything to do but had some copies of a piece suggested by Arno and that we would work on that for 45 minutes or so and then have tea and biscuits. I think it may have been at this point that Chris upped and left us for more worthwhile occupation (could it have had anything at all to do with photography, I wonder? [yes]) but he missed a lot of fun by so doing. Arno has found us a gem and I think that is a view shared by all who were there – such agreement is not always evident in the Rudsambee ranks, I assure you. The piece – let me go and get my folder - is called Desh and is an Indian Raga arranged by an American composer, Ethan Sperry. In it we all have to spend time imitating instruments such as the tabla so we practised getting a good bouncy thrummy-drummy sound on the words "Thom ta Taka Dimi" and in future we have ‘k-Dng’s and ‘Da din din da’s to work on. Yey! I think we did quite well for a start and I, for one, can’t wait to carry on with it. Ollie was saying something about getting an Indian classical singer of his acquaintance to come and sing with us – I think there will be another piece which builds up to this one but I didn’t quite catch all he was saying. Whatever – it sounds exciting, doesn’t it?
So – that and then we did indeed finish very early for tea and coffee, biscuits and chat. Kay, who has just moved house and needs a piano, was quizzing Ollie as to the merits of the electric sort (she wants something she can play without waking the boys up!) and asked him how much he paid for his. I won’t relate the rather shocking reply but Kay – always one to speak her mind - responded with a classic – "Do you think it’s worth paying that much for a fake?" Robin spluttering (and spitting out his tea in the process), guffawed in the way only Robin can and suggested that Kay, in future, might consider filtering her comments and questions through him in order to avoid the odd defamatory word that so easily can creep into perfectly innocent observations. (There is something ugly about that sentence but I don’t know what it is. There is no time to be fussy so you’re stuck with it). We then heard about Kay’s old piano – which she got from former Rudsambeeites, I believe. Oops! It was, apparently "rrrridden" with moths. Oh! how I wish I could do justice to that "ridden". Such a rolled "r" and such depths of horror and disgust. If you’ve ever had moths you’ll understand; if not – well, there is nothing I can do to improve the telling of it.
We had, at last, to sing goodbye to Helen who did – after all – turn up for her farewell. I have to say she was most reluctant to be sung at. She pleaded to be let off, she wailed, she grovelled on the floor. She said she had no fields for the rain to fall on, softly or otherwise and she didn’t want to be blown about by the wind whichever direction it was coming from. But we prevailed. We sang. We nearly sang twice but stopped before she ran away without getting hugged. She liked that even less than the singing but hugged she was and off she’s gone though I think she’s coming back for Christmas. Once in Rudsambee you can never really leave... mwah-ha-ha-haaa.
So – there you have Hell’s Piano.
There you have Helen’s Farewell.
There you have This Week’s Report.
And here is The End.
xx
‘Til next time.
Well, here I am in spite of concerns expressed last week (it was this week, actually, wasn’t it, by the time I got round to blogging?) because the Munich plane doesn’t leave until late afternoon in the summer (it’s summer until October, you’ll be delighted to hear) and so I have time to enlighten you as to last night’s events. ‘Events’ is an inappropriate word. Particularly in the plural. Maybe I can squeeze one eventful moment from the proceedings but that will be all, I fear.
We were down on numbers – this seems to be becoming a habit and not one of which your bloggetteer approves, btw – no Sebastian, no Luke, no Natalie 1 (or 2 for that matter), no Alison, no Anne and Christopher arrived but left again very quickly once he realised he wasn’t going to miss much [and had more exciting thing to run off for]. Ollie was somewhat tardy, Helen even more so. However, in all the self-congratulatory excitement of post-absolutely-fantastic-concert, no one cared at all.
And, delightfully, we had the company of Heather again who joined us for the pre-concert rehearsal last week - about which I didn’t have time to tell you - and is to sing with us at our next concert and hopefully many more after that. She is an alto and a very good one from what I have gathered so far – certainly she was the only one of us last night who noticed that our ‘difficult’ entry was only a matter of singing up one note from the sopranos. Most illuminating and extraordinarily helpful. Downside? Well, she is petite and very pretty so I shan’t want to stand anywhere near her at concerts but will no doubt find myself, feeling like a heifer, right alongside. Just on a personal note (for a change), I find it remarkable that in the company of tall people I feel entirely insignificant and therefore rather embarrassed to be around; however, put me in the company of the small, in which you might imagine I’d enjoy a feeling of superiority and consequent self-importance and I feel over-large, ungainly and clumsy – none of which I am in reality. What I am, obviously, is perennially dissatisfied with my lot. How unattractive. Ah-ha!
Cod-psychology enough for one day, methinks.
Back to last night. John suggested that I do some sort of a warm-up and I was happy to oblige with a few silly physical jerks before handing over to Jenny for the technical stuff (ie singing and breathing which takes more thought than I was willing to attempt on such short notice). By the time this was over the Boy Wonder had arrived, rather sheepishly admitting that he’d had no time to come up with anything to do but had some copies of a piece suggested by Arno and that we would work on that for 45 minutes or so and then have tea and biscuits. I think it may have been at this point that Chris upped and left us for more worthwhile occupation (could it have had anything at all to do with photography, I wonder? [yes]) but he missed a lot of fun by so doing. Arno has found us a gem and I think that is a view shared by all who were there – such agreement is not always evident in the Rudsambee ranks, I assure you. The piece – let me go and get my folder - is called Desh and is an Indian Raga arranged by an American composer, Ethan Sperry. In it we all have to spend time imitating instruments such as the tabla so we practised getting a good bouncy thrummy-drummy sound on the words "Thom ta Taka Dimi" and in future we have ‘k-Dng’s and ‘Da din din da’s to work on. Yey! I think we did quite well for a start and I, for one, can’t wait to carry on with it. Ollie was saying something about getting an Indian classical singer of his acquaintance to come and sing with us – I think there will be another piece which builds up to this one but I didn’t quite catch all he was saying. Whatever – it sounds exciting, doesn’t it?
So – that and then we did indeed finish very early for tea and coffee, biscuits and chat. Kay, who has just moved house and needs a piano, was quizzing Ollie as to the merits of the electric sort (she wants something she can play without waking the boys up!) and asked him how much he paid for his. I won’t relate the rather shocking reply but Kay – always one to speak her mind - responded with a classic – "Do you think it’s worth paying that much for a fake?" Robin spluttering (and spitting out his tea in the process), guffawed in the way only Robin can and suggested that Kay, in future, might consider filtering her comments and questions through him in order to avoid the odd defamatory word that so easily can creep into perfectly innocent observations. (There is something ugly about that sentence but I don’t know what it is. There is no time to be fussy so you’re stuck with it). We then heard about Kay’s old piano – which she got from former Rudsambeeites, I believe. Oops! It was, apparently "rrrridden" with moths. Oh! how I wish I could do justice to that "ridden". Such a rolled "r" and such depths of horror and disgust. If you’ve ever had moths you’ll understand; if not – well, there is nothing I can do to improve the telling of it.
We had, at last, to sing goodbye to Helen who did – after all – turn up for her farewell. I have to say she was most reluctant to be sung at. She pleaded to be let off, she wailed, she grovelled on the floor. She said she had no fields for the rain to fall on, softly or otherwise and she didn’t want to be blown about by the wind whichever direction it was coming from. But we prevailed. We sang. We nearly sang twice but stopped before she ran away without getting hugged. She liked that even less than the singing but hugged she was and off she’s gone though I think she’s coming back for Christmas. Once in Rudsambee you can never really leave... mwah-ha-ha-haaa.
So – there you have Hell’s Piano.
There you have Helen’s Farewell.
There you have This Week’s Report.
And here is The End.
xx
‘Til next time.
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Standing Ovation for Small (but perfectly formed) Edinburgh Choir plus: The Diva Returns
Yes, we are small and so, to be frank, was the number of people who leapt to their feet (actually, they were non-existent – the action generally was decidedly less energetic than that though much appreciated all the same) after our triumphant return to the stage at St Giles Cathedral on Sunday. But a standing ovation is a standing ovation and it was all very thrilling, let me tell you. And also, I feel, well deserved. It was a damn fine concert, dontcha know and we was well proud!!
A long rehearsal starting at 2 o’clock paid rich dividends. Amazingly enough we all maintained enough energy and voice to delight the crowds (and, yes, there were crowds, even at the rehearsal) in spite of all the work we had put in earlier in the day. The girlies got thoroughly to grips with the Abbie Betinis song that had had us pulling our hair out at previous practises and so we were able to perform it and to give our Jenny the chance to terrify the audience with her opening holler (very tuneful but quite extraordinarily loud, as I think I have said before) as the first item on a pretty marvellous programme. Recently we have got into the habit of singing Bogoroditse Djevo as an opener but we threw that aside this time and got all female and Eastern and wail-y instead and it was great. I think we are likely to repeat it. Often. (And just to put your minds at rest; however tempted, I didn’t pull faces to get attention even though, as predicted, I didn’t get to sing a solo (or a duet for that matter. I know my place!)
Three of our pieces this time were accompanied. Yes, three. Can you imagine? You might find that shocking if you know us as an a cappella choir but it’s nice to have a change from time to time and we have allowed other musicians to join us before and it is rather good fun as well as having the most unusual and gratifying effect of keeping us in tune. The first song was accompanied by a viola (lovely) and a tambourine - well, a Riq; it looks like a tambourine but let me tell you if you think tambourine-jingly-jangly-shaky-clinky then you’ve never heard this in the hands of Hilary, famed belly-dancer and owner of Hilary’s Bazaar on the High Street. You can get an unbelievable number of sounds from this if you know how – and she does. Woo-hoo!
We also sang the beautiful Five Hebrew Love Songs – thank you Mr Whitacre – for which there must be a piano (played by our multi-talented Anne who has always given up her right to sing these lovely things with us in order to play piano instead) and a violin, played by a friend of Sebastian whose name, shamefully, I don’t know – but she played gorgeously and with very little practise too, so huge thanks in great awe is hereby extended by yours truly. (And everyone else, no doubt, and they probably know your name [it's Charlotte]).
Our final piece, the glorious Cloudburst - Mr W again, how clever is he? - requires all sorts and conditions of instrumental activity ranging from the singers through piano (not Anne this time), hand bells, cymbals, little chime-y thingummyjigs [aka windchimes], a thunder sheet and a very, very big drum not to mention finger-snapping, hand-clapping, leg-slapping shenanigans from the members of the choir. Anna Lauren actually managed to bruise her legs she was slapping them so hard in rehearsal... I only hope she managed to restrain herself somewhat in performance or her husband will get peculiar ideas about Rudsambee and may make her give us up which would be nothing short of a disaster.
Anna Lauren, we need you!
Especially as this was Helen’s last concert with Rudsambee. She is leaving to head for the bright lights and the hustle bustle and the dirt and the noise and the crowded streets of London Town. We didn’t manage to catch hold of her to sing the Irish Blessing at her. She says she is coming to rehearsal on Wednesday so that we can say goodbye then but I have my doubts... she may have escaped unserenaded, in which case she’ll be the first person ever to have achieved such a thing. Speaking of which, we waved farewell to (and sang at) Angus last week. He’s off back to Oz with the family and we shall miss him.
So to the second part of tonight’s story: The Return of the Diva. Yes, Claire1 was back with us again on Sunday and this time she joined us in song. Marvellous. Given a half-hour or so to learn the Abbie Betinis that we had been struggling with for weeks she was able to sing that and the Hebrew Love Songs and Cloudburst with us at the concert and also the necessary encore (at last a chance to sing Bog Off (by which I mean Bogoroditse Djevo, of course)) because she knew all those from her former days as a member – or should I say THE member of Rudsambee (sorry Diva!). It was lovely to have her back even if for a very brief appearance but very confusing to be one of two Claires again having got used to being the-one-and-only – a condition much more suited to my disposition, as I’m sure you realise.
So – that’s about it, folks. I didn’t write last week as I was off down south for a long weekend and this week I’m off to Germany for the same (oh! the life of a jet-setter) so you may well have to wait for a report on Wednesday’s fun and games until next Monday or later. Maybe Jenny will oblige if any really exciting news needs to be imparted for I may well have forgotten everything well before I get back from Munich. Usually I’m hard-pressed to remember anything by Thursday morning.
Thank you to anyone who came to the concert – especially if you were one of the stander-uppers.
Catch you later.
A long rehearsal starting at 2 o’clock paid rich dividends. Amazingly enough we all maintained enough energy and voice to delight the crowds (and, yes, there were crowds, even at the rehearsal) in spite of all the work we had put in earlier in the day. The girlies got thoroughly to grips with the Abbie Betinis song that had had us pulling our hair out at previous practises and so we were able to perform it and to give our Jenny the chance to terrify the audience with her opening holler (very tuneful but quite extraordinarily loud, as I think I have said before) as the first item on a pretty marvellous programme. Recently we have got into the habit of singing Bogoroditse Djevo as an opener but we threw that aside this time and got all female and Eastern and wail-y instead and it was great. I think we are likely to repeat it. Often. (And just to put your minds at rest; however tempted, I didn’t pull faces to get attention even though, as predicted, I didn’t get to sing a solo (or a duet for that matter. I know my place!)
Three of our pieces this time were accompanied. Yes, three. Can you imagine? You might find that shocking if you know us as an a cappella choir but it’s nice to have a change from time to time and we have allowed other musicians to join us before and it is rather good fun as well as having the most unusual and gratifying effect of keeping us in tune. The first song was accompanied by a viola (lovely) and a tambourine - well, a Riq; it looks like a tambourine but let me tell you if you think tambourine-jingly-jangly-shaky-clinky then you’ve never heard this in the hands of Hilary, famed belly-dancer and owner of Hilary’s Bazaar on the High Street. You can get an unbelievable number of sounds from this if you know how – and she does. Woo-hoo!
We also sang the beautiful Five Hebrew Love Songs – thank you Mr Whitacre – for which there must be a piano (played by our multi-talented Anne who has always given up her right to sing these lovely things with us in order to play piano instead) and a violin, played by a friend of Sebastian whose name, shamefully, I don’t know – but she played gorgeously and with very little practise too, so huge thanks in great awe is hereby extended by yours truly. (And everyone else, no doubt, and they probably know your name [it's Charlotte]).
Our final piece, the glorious Cloudburst - Mr W again, how clever is he? - requires all sorts and conditions of instrumental activity ranging from the singers through piano (not Anne this time), hand bells, cymbals, little chime-y thingummyjigs [aka windchimes], a thunder sheet and a very, very big drum not to mention finger-snapping, hand-clapping, leg-slapping shenanigans from the members of the choir. Anna Lauren actually managed to bruise her legs she was slapping them so hard in rehearsal... I only hope she managed to restrain herself somewhat in performance or her husband will get peculiar ideas about Rudsambee and may make her give us up which would be nothing short of a disaster.
Anna Lauren, we need you!
Especially as this was Helen’s last concert with Rudsambee. She is leaving to head for the bright lights and the hustle bustle and the dirt and the noise and the crowded streets of London Town. We didn’t manage to catch hold of her to sing the Irish Blessing at her. She says she is coming to rehearsal on Wednesday so that we can say goodbye then but I have my doubts... she may have escaped unserenaded, in which case she’ll be the first person ever to have achieved such a thing. Speaking of which, we waved farewell to (and sang at) Angus last week. He’s off back to Oz with the family and we shall miss him.
So to the second part of tonight’s story: The Return of the Diva. Yes, Claire1 was back with us again on Sunday and this time she joined us in song. Marvellous. Given a half-hour or so to learn the Abbie Betinis that we had been struggling with for weeks she was able to sing that and the Hebrew Love Songs and Cloudburst with us at the concert and also the necessary encore (at last a chance to sing Bog Off (by which I mean Bogoroditse Djevo, of course)) because she knew all those from her former days as a member – or should I say THE member of Rudsambee (sorry Diva!). It was lovely to have her back even if for a very brief appearance but very confusing to be one of two Claires again having got used to being the-one-and-only – a condition much more suited to my disposition, as I’m sure you realise.
So – that’s about it, folks. I didn’t write last week as I was off down south for a long weekend and this week I’m off to Germany for the same (oh! the life of a jet-setter) so you may well have to wait for a report on Wednesday’s fun and games until next Monday or later. Maybe Jenny will oblige if any really exciting news needs to be imparted for I may well have forgotten everything well before I get back from Munich. Usually I’m hard-pressed to remember anything by Thursday morning.
Thank you to anyone who came to the concert – especially if you were one of the stander-uppers.
Catch you later.
Friday, 20 August 2010
Amend Last Weeks Title to: "Return of The Idiot, The Fool, The Half-wit"
What can she mean? I hear you cry. How dare our erudite and multi-talented Blogetteer refer to herself in such disparaging terms? Woe and alack-a-day! What has upset the delicate balance of her sensibilities and led to this – surely unjustifiable? - self-censure?
(You get the picture…)
Well, I wrote the blog in good time last week – honest I did – as evidenced therein by the word ‘tomorrow’ i.e. Sunday, which I would only use if I were doing a Saturday report, wouldn’t I? Unless, of course, I was being very sneaky and trying to trick you into thinking I was writing on Saturday when really it was Monday which would explain why the blog did not appear until Tuesday. Still with me? Actually what happened was that I did indeed get me blogging done on Saturday but then I emailed Chris (who does the posting) and, blow me down! forgot to send the relevant attachment. (What he made of an email merely announcing that I was off to write introductions, I have no idea. Perhaps he thought I thought he’d be interested in such minutiae?) It wasn’t until Tuesday when our erstwhile replacement blogstress, Jenny, sent me an email entitled "Where is it?" that I realised my mistake. (Thank you, Jen. Good work. Someone is reading these, it seems!) Chris, being well used to my inefficiency and long past making polite inquiries as to the whereabouts of my weekly (!?) words of wisdom, did not make any polite inquiries into my weekly WoW so they might have remained written but unread – a crime against great literary endeavour if ever there was one – had it not been for The Vigilance of Mrs Fardell (oooo, there’s a good book-title).
So you see why I feel it necessary to castigate myself. I did give Christopher permission to write rude things about me as a footnote to my last week’s effort but it appears he has displayed remarkable restraint and decided against it. Either that or he was too busy to bother. Whatever the reason, I feel obliged to do the job for him. Job done.
None of which enlightens you as to the recent activities of your favourite choristers.
Sunday was an interesting experiment. I feel the time of day was a little unfortunate. 10 o’clock on a Sunday morning nearly proved the undoing of the Boy Wonder – he made it for 9.55 but the rest of us had been there as per instructions (from TBW) since 9.15 or earlier. Something about a forgotten alarm... However, at least he got there which is more than can be said for Helen, who didn’t - this being the time of unsleeping dissertation hell. Which left some interesting Helen-shaped holes in things, some of which could be filled by Anna-Lauren or the massed voices of the soprani but one of which was more of a Helen-shaped chasm and had poor Elaine battling all alone through the 2nd choir verses of Une Puce while the 1st choir boasted no less than four of the heavenly high-voiced (an imbalance I can’t explain as it would have been only marginally improved by Helen’s attendance. There must have been another absent soprano, mustn’t there? But whom...? I apologise to whoever it was if it was anybody. Imagine forgetting you! [perhaps Rachael?])
Anyway, the audience were a bit thin on the ground when we began and only a little thicker when we finished but set fair to be considerably larger for those who followed us as by then the sun was out and people had actually got out of bed. However, we sang some songs and collected some money (for Water Aid and St Columba’s Hospice) and had some photos taken, the latter activity providing some fair amusement for passers-by, one of whom took some pictures of us taking pictures of ourselves (timer on Chris’s posh camera) as if he thought we were famous... or something.
On to last night where we, rather than the audience, were rather thin on the ground and remained that way. Robin was busy preparing for his first day as a grown-up, teaching Chemistry in Dunfermline (Good luck, kiddo. You’ll be brilliant, I’m sure!). Chris was absent, Arno was absent, Natalie2 was absent, Helen... and so on. We warmed up by singing the beginning of This Marriage and working on blending so it sounded gorgeous (will it last??) then sang through the Five Hebrew Love Songs which we’re hoping to perform at St Giles on the 29th. Luke has never sung these before so was delighted to get a chance, I’m sure, but no doubt feels he needs much more practise – which he will get on the 29th! Once this was done Ollie sent the boys away. They could actually have gone home at this point but decided to stay and work amongst themselves which shows commendable dedication. No idea what they did but perhaps Luke got to spend more time on the 5HLSs after all. Meanwhile we ladies had a hard old time trying to get our heads round the Abbie Betinis caravan song we started some weeks ago. Now, I don’t know how much time was spent on this while I was away but I didn’t feel I was floundering more than anyone else so maybe not much or maybe it is just horribly difficult. The notes are awkward and the rhythms are impossible! Well, no. Not impossible, but the concentration required! No doubt one day (very, very soon I hope) we’ll be laughing at how hard we found it but at the moment the learning of it is not a pleasant experience. This is the one with several solos and Jenny’s very loud big moment, remember? And last night Natalie1 actually offered to do one of the solos. Is the girl mad? I think it’s the only offer Ollie will get. Anna Lauren has to do one because it goes really high but nobody else seems keen to catch the Maestro’s eye when he starts mentioning the ‘s’ word for this one. Will Natalie get her heart’s desire? Watch this space. Or come to the concert.
Really that was it, though at the risk of mentioning Jenny’s name too often there were two amusing incidents last night involving She Of The Capacious Lungs. First I found her in a trance whilst contemplating a pencil held delicately upright at nose level between forefinger and thumb – as if it were a thing of great beauty or engineering of extraordinary complexity. I think she should have been singing at the time but obviously this pencil had captured her imagination far more than the song. Secondly, at the end of the rehearsal, for no apparent reason, she pulled on an old Victorian-style nightdress adorned with sea-themed doodads in which she swung about in what seemed to be a proud display of her invention and ability to sew. Why? You may well ask! It turned out she’s off to a family get-together down south this weekend during which there will be a fancy dress party with - yes, you’ve guessed it! - a sea theme, and she wanted to try her costume out in front of a sympathetic – if somewhat puzzled – audience. Natalie, once she’d recovered from her jaw-dropped confusion, suggested Jen should string some shells round her neck and I thought I had a shell-bedecked piece of string at home from one of the girl’s long-ago mermaid costumes which I offered to lend in return for a lift home. I got the lift but she didn’t get the necklace. Having emptied in vain the dressing-up box (which is at the back of a very dark cupboard) I came to the conclusion I must have dismantled or lost it years ago. A shame. But the nightie speaks for itself.
See you next week.
Maybe.
(You get the picture…)
Well, I wrote the blog in good time last week – honest I did – as evidenced therein by the word ‘tomorrow’ i.e. Sunday, which I would only use if I were doing a Saturday report, wouldn’t I? Unless, of course, I was being very sneaky and trying to trick you into thinking I was writing on Saturday when really it was Monday which would explain why the blog did not appear until Tuesday. Still with me? Actually what happened was that I did indeed get me blogging done on Saturday but then I emailed Chris (who does the posting) and, blow me down! forgot to send the relevant attachment. (What he made of an email merely announcing that I was off to write introductions, I have no idea. Perhaps he thought I thought he’d be interested in such minutiae?) It wasn’t until Tuesday when our erstwhile replacement blogstress, Jenny, sent me an email entitled "Where is it?" that I realised my mistake. (Thank you, Jen. Good work. Someone is reading these, it seems!) Chris, being well used to my inefficiency and long past making polite inquiries as to the whereabouts of my weekly (!?) words of wisdom, did not make any polite inquiries into my weekly WoW so they might have remained written but unread – a crime against great literary endeavour if ever there was one – had it not been for The Vigilance of Mrs Fardell (oooo, there’s a good book-title).
So you see why I feel it necessary to castigate myself. I did give Christopher permission to write rude things about me as a footnote to my last week’s effort but it appears he has displayed remarkable restraint and decided against it. Either that or he was too busy to bother. Whatever the reason, I feel obliged to do the job for him. Job done.
None of which enlightens you as to the recent activities of your favourite choristers.
Sunday was an interesting experiment. I feel the time of day was a little unfortunate. 10 o’clock on a Sunday morning nearly proved the undoing of the Boy Wonder – he made it for 9.55 but the rest of us had been there as per instructions (from TBW) since 9.15 or earlier. Something about a forgotten alarm... However, at least he got there which is more than can be said for Helen, who didn’t - this being the time of unsleeping dissertation hell. Which left some interesting Helen-shaped holes in things, some of which could be filled by Anna-Lauren or the massed voices of the soprani but one of which was more of a Helen-shaped chasm and had poor Elaine battling all alone through the 2nd choir verses of Une Puce while the 1st choir boasted no less than four of the heavenly high-voiced (an imbalance I can’t explain as it would have been only marginally improved by Helen’s attendance. There must have been another absent soprano, mustn’t there? But whom...? I apologise to whoever it was if it was anybody. Imagine forgetting you! [perhaps Rachael?])
Anyway, the audience were a bit thin on the ground when we began and only a little thicker when we finished but set fair to be considerably larger for those who followed us as by then the sun was out and people had actually got out of bed. However, we sang some songs and collected some money (for Water Aid and St Columba’s Hospice) and had some photos taken, the latter activity providing some fair amusement for passers-by, one of whom took some pictures of us taking pictures of ourselves (timer on Chris’s posh camera) as if he thought we were famous... or something.
On to last night where we, rather than the audience, were rather thin on the ground and remained that way. Robin was busy preparing for his first day as a grown-up, teaching Chemistry in Dunfermline (Good luck, kiddo. You’ll be brilliant, I’m sure!). Chris was absent, Arno was absent, Natalie
Really that was it, though at the risk of mentioning Jenny’s name too often there were two amusing incidents last night involving She Of The Capacious Lungs. First I found her in a trance whilst contemplating a pencil held delicately upright at nose level between forefinger and thumb – as if it were a thing of great beauty or engineering of extraordinary complexity. I think she should have been singing at the time but obviously this pencil had captured her imagination far more than the song. Secondly, at the end of the rehearsal, for no apparent reason, she pulled on an old Victorian-style nightdress adorned with sea-themed doodads in which she swung about in what seemed to be a proud display of her invention and ability to sew. Why? You may well ask! It turned out she’s off to a family get-together down south this weekend during which there will be a fancy dress party with - yes, you’ve guessed it! - a sea theme, and she wanted to try her costume out in front of a sympathetic – if somewhat puzzled – audience. Natalie, once she’d recovered from her jaw-dropped confusion, suggested Jen should string some shells round her neck and I thought I had a shell-bedecked piece of string at home from one of the girl’s long-ago mermaid costumes which I offered to lend in return for a lift home. I got the lift but she didn’t get the necklace. Having emptied in vain the dressing-up box (which is at the back of a very dark cupboard) I came to the conclusion I must have dismantled or lost it years ago. A shame. But the nightie speaks for itself.
See you next week.
Maybe.
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Return of The Blogeteer
Ahoy there, me hearties! And how be’st thou after me long absence, I be wonderin’? I b’lieve Able Seaman Fardell kept things ship-shape while I was on shore-leave – no one asked her but I’m right glad someone took the ‘elm or oo knows where we’d be by now? Up a creek with the sails flappin’, I fear. Fer sartin you’d be less well informed than youm are thanks to ‘er efforts.
Enough. How are you ‘all’? I had a very good holiday, thank you, though the weather could have been better. I went down south where the sun used always to shine during July and August but where it does so no longer. Grrrr. Very disappointing. Extremely frustrating. However, great fun was had by all and I so shouldn’t complain, should I? Or should I? Methinks my advancing age entitles me to the status of ‘Grumpy Old(ish) Woman’; something one ought to take advantage of whenever possible. So, grrrrrrrrrrrrr.
I feel I missed a great deal of practise choir-wise, even though it was only two rehearsals. Especially as I returned to find that we are singing that tongue-twisting, tricksy little Spanish number (La Tricotea) TOMORROW in Princes Street Gardens and singing it pretty blinking fast, too. I have done my best to learn it well enough to slide and slur my way through it and if I manage to keep the panic from my eyes I might just get away with it. Apparently we will be doing it by heart in two weeks time in St Giles – ah, yes... what would life in Rudsambee be without a little pressure, a morsel of terror, to keep the spirit fighting fit?
Apart from this, Wednesday evening was pleasantly gentle – dare I say ‘laid back’? Should that be a worry 3 days before a concert? The most memorable comment of the night was Ollie saying something along the lines of, “That was really good... and it can only get better” which had us chortling (nervously) but which song he said it about escapes me completely, though I have a sneaking suspicion it was the Spanish blighter mentioned above. It would certainly be true.
We had all sorts of fun with ‘Monateng Kapele’ which is fun to sing anyway but which is much more interesting now – if only we remember what we practised in all the excitement of singing outdoors with microphones and a coming-and-going audience (that’s if there’s an audience at all). It may be pouring with rain. It may be stiflingly hot (and us in full concert dress of BLACK and red, too – but you should have seen the reaction from certain people when I suggested that a summer style should maybe be adopted in future - in the summer, of course... oh, lordy! It was a slightly mischievous suggestion, I must admit, as I well remember the painful deliberations which got us to the ‘costume’ we have now, but really! Other choirs manage to dress themselves without all this fuss – how hard can it be??????) – where was I?
Oh, yes, we have no idea what to expect but I have to say that my hopes of an event inventively entitled Scotland’s Got Talent are somewhat subdued. And from what I’ve heard the claim has, as yet, not been proven! Let’s hope enough people get past the title (and the big tent within which we are not singing but which is taking up a great deal of room in the area in which we are) for us to change that, to prove the point and to astonish the crowds with our virtuosity.
Now I must go and write some introductions to tomorrow’s songs – I am to deliver them all because I have used a microphone before. No one asked if I had done this with any success. It was assumed. And I allowed the assumption. So – God help me if I get it wrong!!!!
Wish me luck (or at the very least a mic that doesn’t swing around loose-headed like the last one I had to deal with during a play-reading at the Traverse a few months ago. You try emoting whilst chasing an errant instrument of amplification around with your mouth......)
xx
Enough. How are you ‘all’? I had a very good holiday, thank you, though the weather could have been better. I went down south where the sun used always to shine during July and August but where it does so no longer. Grrrr. Very disappointing. Extremely frustrating. However, great fun was had by all and I so shouldn’t complain, should I? Or should I? Methinks my advancing age entitles me to the status of ‘Grumpy Old(ish) Woman’; something one ought to take advantage of whenever possible. So, grrrrrrrrrrrrr.
I feel I missed a great deal of practise choir-wise, even though it was only two rehearsals. Especially as I returned to find that we are singing that tongue-twisting, tricksy little Spanish number (La Tricotea) TOMORROW in Princes Street Gardens and singing it pretty blinking fast, too. I have done my best to learn it well enough to slide and slur my way through it and if I manage to keep the panic from my eyes I might just get away with it. Apparently we will be doing it by heart in two weeks time in St Giles – ah, yes... what would life in Rudsambee be without a little pressure, a morsel of terror, to keep the spirit fighting fit?
Apart from this, Wednesday evening was pleasantly gentle – dare I say ‘laid back’? Should that be a worry 3 days before a concert? The most memorable comment of the night was Ollie saying something along the lines of, “That was really good... and it can only get better” which had us chortling (nervously) but which song he said it about escapes me completely, though I have a sneaking suspicion it was the Spanish blighter mentioned above. It would certainly be true.
We had all sorts of fun with ‘Monateng Kapele’ which is fun to sing anyway but which is much more interesting now – if only we remember what we practised in all the excitement of singing outdoors with microphones and a coming-and-going audience (that’s if there’s an audience at all). It may be pouring with rain. It may be stiflingly hot (and us in full concert dress of BLACK and red, too – but you should have seen the reaction from certain people when I suggested that a summer style should maybe be adopted in future - in the summer, of course... oh, lordy! It was a slightly mischievous suggestion, I must admit, as I well remember the painful deliberations which got us to the ‘costume’ we have now, but really! Other choirs manage to dress themselves without all this fuss – how hard can it be??????) – where was I?
Oh, yes, we have no idea what to expect but I have to say that my hopes of an event inventively entitled Scotland’s Got Talent are somewhat subdued. And from what I’ve heard the claim has, as yet, not been proven! Let’s hope enough people get past the title (and the big tent within which we are not singing but which is taking up a great deal of room in the area in which we are) for us to change that, to prove the point and to astonish the crowds with our virtuosity.
Now I must go and write some introductions to tomorrow’s songs – I am to deliver them all because I have used a microphone before. No one asked if I had done this with any success. It was assumed. And I allowed the assumption. So – God help me if I get it wrong!!!!
Wish me luck (or at the very least a mic that doesn’t swing around loose-headed like the last one I had to deal with during a play-reading at the Traverse a few months ago. You try emoting whilst chasing an errant instrument of amplification around with your mouth......)
xx
Monday, 9 August 2010
...and the barbecue
Me again, our Blogstress having sent her apologies for having to regrettably miss this major event which happens, in Anne and husband Dick's garden, almost every year. So, I get the scoop! Although I nearly didn't because of the weather. Rainy all morning but dry in the afternoon and just got better so by the late afternoon we were all practically sunbathing.
It was really good that Angus and family could be there. The last Rudsambee party before they go back to Australia (They have to return the kangaroos they smuggled over here, or something...).
Anne's garden, as hinted at in the previous blog, is a haven. Not only for singers with greedy tummies, (yummy raspberries! May as well own up to tasting a couple. Actually it was in an attempt to encourage a suddenly shy boy to join the party that we invaded the patch) but also for wildlife. Robin was delighted he got an opportunity to impress us with his bee identifications. Though I think he regretted telling us there is such a thing as a Cuckoo Bee because he had to explain no, it does not build its hive in clocks, nor does it buzz on the hour, and it can't count. It just steals other bees homes. I forget which type of queen bee landed wearily on someone's plate, but Anne instantly recognised it was in need of some first aid and disappeared into the kitchen for a spoonful of honey, shouting:- "This is why you might find a few teaspoons in the flower beds, folks, it's amazing how bees revive after being fed a bit of honey." However, this particular invader of our BBQ got more than she was expecting. Anne had kindly (?) warmed the spoon up to make the honey less sticky. Suddenly her Majesty found a hot teaspoon stuck up her rear end because she turned round at the wrong moment, and flew off indignantly.
People turned up in dribs and drabs and the arrival of Kay and co. livened up an already very hearty party. Sandy and Euan were delighted to find two bigger boys to roll in the grass with. Connor and Sebastian spent most of the afternoon swinging the little tots round and flying them in the air and being used as climbing frames. Euan just followed Sebastian round with his arms in the air waiting to be lifted up. At one point our bass was lying in the grass with Euan cuddled into his neck and Sandy curled up on his stomach begging for more "Tummy-Highs" (where a person is balanced in the air on someone's feet). And even adults can "fly" like this. I know because I had a go... and wow! it was amazing, it felt like I didn't weigh anything at all, though I'm not sure if Sebastian felt the same way...
A pause in grass play whilst we all went to admire Dick's magnificent tools...!! He has acquired some new engineering stuff including a model traction engine which, once finished, will be able to pull a carriage load of us round the garden at the next BBQ! I suggested it would suffice Edinburgh council until the trams are finished, but Dick said it's only capable of two speeds - slow and a bit faster. Well, it would still be faster than waiting for a tram at this stage!
Some delicious dessert wine came out when the children had gone home. And the remaining few of us went when the midges came out.
It was a lovely day. Heaven just to chill out and pretend you don't have a house to clean, shopping to do, clothes to wash and iron....
Big thank you to our hosts, missed those of you who weren't able to come along, and looking forward to the next parteee.
Jenny
It was really good that Angus and family could be there. The last Rudsambee party before they go back to Australia (They have to return the kangaroos they smuggled over here, or something...).
Anne's garden, as hinted at in the previous blog, is a haven. Not only for singers with greedy tummies, (yummy raspberries! May as well own up to tasting a couple. Actually it was in an attempt to encourage a suddenly shy boy to join the party that we invaded the patch) but also for wildlife. Robin was delighted he got an opportunity to impress us with his bee identifications. Though I think he regretted telling us there is such a thing as a Cuckoo Bee because he had to explain no, it does not build its hive in clocks, nor does it buzz on the hour, and it can't count. It just steals other bees homes. I forget which type of queen bee landed wearily on someone's plate, but Anne instantly recognised it was in need of some first aid and disappeared into the kitchen for a spoonful of honey, shouting:- "This is why you might find a few teaspoons in the flower beds, folks, it's amazing how bees revive after being fed a bit of honey." However, this particular invader of our BBQ got more than she was expecting. Anne had kindly (?) warmed the spoon up to make the honey less sticky. Suddenly her Majesty found a hot teaspoon stuck up her rear end because she turned round at the wrong moment, and flew off indignantly.
People turned up in dribs and drabs and the arrival of Kay and co. livened up an already very hearty party. Sandy and Euan were delighted to find two bigger boys to roll in the grass with. Connor and Sebastian spent most of the afternoon swinging the little tots round and flying them in the air and being used as climbing frames. Euan just followed Sebastian round with his arms in the air waiting to be lifted up. At one point our bass was lying in the grass with Euan cuddled into his neck and Sandy curled up on his stomach begging for more "Tummy-Highs" (where a person is balanced in the air on someone's feet). And even adults can "fly" like this. I know because I had a go... and wow! it was amazing, it felt like I didn't weigh anything at all, though I'm not sure if Sebastian felt the same way...
A pause in grass play whilst we all went to admire Dick's magnificent tools...!! He has acquired some new engineering stuff including a model traction engine which, once finished, will be able to pull a carriage load of us round the garden at the next BBQ! I suggested it would suffice Edinburgh council until the trams are finished, but Dick said it's only capable of two speeds - slow and a bit faster. Well, it would still be faster than waiting for a tram at this stage!
Some delicious dessert wine came out when the children had gone home. And the remaining few of us went when the midges came out.
It was a lovely day. Heaven just to chill out and pretend you don't have a house to clean, shopping to do, clothes to wash and iron....
Big thank you to our hosts, missed those of you who weren't able to come along, and looking forward to the next parteee.
Jenny
Sunday, 8 August 2010
More from Jenny
So, to Luke's horror, out came quite a few oldies (music, not choir members you understand). Starting with Jede Sedlak, we were instructed to be bouncy and energetic. Whereupon our most energetic bass, Sebastian, looked absolutely terrifyingly manic with his bounciness. And once started he was like a pogo-stick and couldn't stop! This encouraged Anne to have a go (I tell you, if she goes at her garden with as much vitality it is not surprising it's worthy of the Chelsea Flower Show!). Anne and I (well, there was nothing stopping me joining in) had a wee dance and "seriously," said Anne, "there should be more of it!" The whole song was uplifted and sounded fresh, and it really set the tone for the whole evening. Go Sebastian, schatz!
Actually, he did go. On his bottom, on the floor, to roll when asked to roll the 'r's (NOT meaning the rear end!) when purring in Kiisu Misu. Angus nearly had me rolling on the floor with the facial contortions he was making in trying to purr. Enough about the basses! Honestly, last week it was Luke stealing the blog page! The basses are taking over!! AAARGH!
Onto more serious stuff. CHATTING in the rehearsal. Tut tut, Anne and Kay. Classic line from Ollie: "Just because you're holding your folders up doesn't mean I don't know what you're up to!"
Protested Kay, "But there's been a fire. It's really serious." He didn't think it was serious enough, and said it could wait until after the rehearsal.
Ollie asked if anyone knew a violinist to play for the Hebrew Love Songs. I said my wee boy has just had his second violin lesson, and Susan said something sarcastic about it but I didn't catch what exactly...
Now, which piece was it where Ollie said he wasn't going to go over and over it, but did anyway!? La Tricotea. The words, as the title might suggest, are indeed tricky. And to our horror, we're doing the second verse as well. The sopranos had a chance to sit and smirk at us poor lower voices, as they don't sing in this piece.
So, all will come together at the Ross Band Stand on the 15th August at 10am. And as I can't think of anymore funny people to write about, I'd better go and do the big Tesco shopping.
J
ps
Message from Thomas:
And one from Ollie2:-
Actually, he did go. On his bottom, on the floor, to roll when asked to roll the 'r's (NOT meaning the rear end!) when purring in Kiisu Misu. Angus nearly had me rolling on the floor with the facial contortions he was making in trying to purr. Enough about the basses! Honestly, last week it was Luke stealing the blog page! The basses are taking over!! AAARGH!
Onto more serious stuff. CHATTING in the rehearsal. Tut tut, Anne and Kay. Classic line from Ollie: "Just because you're holding your folders up doesn't mean I don't know what you're up to!"
Protested Kay, "But there's been a fire. It's really serious." He didn't think it was serious enough, and said it could wait until after the rehearsal.
Ollie asked if anyone knew a violinist to play for the Hebrew Love Songs. I said my wee boy has just had his second violin lesson, and Susan said something sarcastic about it but I didn't catch what exactly...
Now, which piece was it where Ollie said he wasn't going to go over and over it, but did anyway!? La Tricotea. The words, as the title might suggest, are indeed tricky. And to our horror, we're doing the second verse as well. The sopranos had a chance to sit and smirk at us poor lower voices, as they don't sing in this piece.
So, all will come together at the Ross Band Stand on the 15th August at 10am. And as I can't think of anymore funny people to write about, I'd better go and do the big Tesco shopping.
J
ps
Message from Thomas:
I am fine. Currently I am applying for next year, as my contract runs out next year September. I won't know before January...
As you were asking for good news: I am going to marry my dear Steffi next year in August (... writing this actually brought back the memory of you asking me about my boyfriend... I still find this hilarious...)
Please, tell everyone my regards.
And one from Ollie2:-
Best wishes to all of you. I've been trying to find a choir that is as cool as Rudsambee in London, and there doesn't seem to be one. You're too wonderfully unique...
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