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
Thursday, 9 April 2009
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
Thursday, 26 March 2009
The week before the big night...
...rather unbelievably we actually have a concert next week. It has sort of appeared from nowhere due, presumably, to the way life speeds up as you get older. When I was six a month seemed to last a couple of years especially if my birthday or Christmas was coming up. Now days run quicker and quicker until life becomes a bit of a blur. And on that philosophical (actually slightly melancholy) note, we begin.
Big thanks to wonderful Claire 2 for stepping so ably into the breach last week. Cheers chick! Well I arrived back from my travels (after a slightly terrifying journey up the legendary Bealach Na Ba and a restful holiday in Wester Ross) and was immediately thrown into the small group piece Miserere Nostri'. Well, it must be said that it was much better than one might have imagined, especially since two of those involved had never sung it before and none of us had sung it for about three years. Perhaps not quite good enough for a concert yet (the sopranos were in perfect canon throughout but we have a tendency to leave everyone else behind), but certainly there is potential.
After a dash of jolly yoga and some silly noise-based warmup led by this Blogstress we embarked upon our pre-concert rehearsal at Priestfield Church. It is always exciting to hear the pieces in an acoustic without so much carpet and last night was no exception. A-L's rather staggering top note in the Tormis (sorry, I regret I cannot tell you which one as in my small mind they all merge together to form one loud Estonian cacophony - that sounds like a a meat-based stew, no? Anyone for a bowl of Estonian cacophony?) sounded particularly brilliant. The Debussy is also coming on and sounded pretty good. We are still perfecting the beginning and Maestro Boy told us to put our tongue on our alveolar ridge (or something like that). That Maestro Boy, what a card! I still have no idea what he was talking about.
Maestro Boy was full of useful advice for his ever-eager followers, including imagining that a Martian was holding a piece of string attached to the tops of our heads. I think it was meant to encourage us to stand tall, but it left me with a scary image of the day the Martians (or indeed any form of extra-terrestrial life) take over our small planet and control us with a length of twine and some well adjusted knots. Terrifying!
What kind of mouth shape should we aim for when singing particularly difficult vowel sounds I hear you cry. Well, I am glad you asked as Maestro Boy had further words of wisdom for us. Apparently you should pout like a duck. No, I found that one difficult to follow too. Do ducks pout? Well, there is a question. I would imagine so, especially when passing full length mirrors or when a particularly handsome mallard with his green plumage waddles by.
His final nugget was directed at the tenors (I believe) during Crucifixus, when he encouraged them to "just wing it". Righto! It must be said that winging an 18th Century piece, in Latin, in 8 parts is slightly easier said then done, but I think the words of advice were welcomed anyways.
So with a week to go the Rudsambee-lets are looking forward to a great gig at the Portrait Gallery next Thursday. There are a number of good reasons why you should come:
1) It is straight after work at 6.
2) It is a nice building with a rather startling acoustic.
3) It is free (bargain, you can't get cheaper than that blog fans).
4) The music will be good.
5) We are beginning with two Tormis pieces which, for an audience, is a little like jumping into a cold Scottish loch in March - a bit of a shock but ultimately satisfying and exhilarating.
6) Apparently there's some art nearby in case you're early.
So we'll see you all there then. The week after is one of our infamous Rudsambee parties. Robin (who will soon be moulding the finest minds of the young generations - congrats on getting into teaching training, pal!) and I will be bringing Guitar Hero along. Oh yes, the photographs courtesy of Chief Blog Editor are sure to be spectacular.
Until next week, when in all likelihood you will get two posts for the price of one. As this blog is free, that is not a great deal of outlay for you!
CSW
Big thanks to wonderful Claire 2 for stepping so ably into the breach last week. Cheers chick! Well I arrived back from my travels (after a slightly terrifying journey up the legendary Bealach Na Ba and a restful holiday in Wester Ross) and was immediately thrown into the small group piece Miserere Nostri'. Well, it must be said that it was much better than one might have imagined, especially since two of those involved had never sung it before and none of us had sung it for about three years. Perhaps not quite good enough for a concert yet (the sopranos were in perfect canon throughout but we have a tendency to leave everyone else behind), but certainly there is potential.
After a dash of jolly yoga and some silly noise-based warmup led by this Blogstress we embarked upon our pre-concert rehearsal at Priestfield Church. It is always exciting to hear the pieces in an acoustic without so much carpet and last night was no exception. A-L's rather staggering top note in the Tormis (sorry, I regret I cannot tell you which one as in my small mind they all merge together to form one loud Estonian cacophony - that sounds like a a meat-based stew, no? Anyone for a bowl of Estonian cacophony?) sounded particularly brilliant. The Debussy is also coming on and sounded pretty good. We are still perfecting the beginning and Maestro Boy told us to put our tongue on our alveolar ridge (or something like that). That Maestro Boy, what a card! I still have no idea what he was talking about.
Maestro Boy was full of useful advice for his ever-eager followers, including imagining that a Martian was holding a piece of string attached to the tops of our heads. I think it was meant to encourage us to stand tall, but it left me with a scary image of the day the Martians (or indeed any form of extra-terrestrial life) take over our small planet and control us with a length of twine and some well adjusted knots. Terrifying!
What kind of mouth shape should we aim for when singing particularly difficult vowel sounds I hear you cry. Well, I am glad you asked as Maestro Boy had further words of wisdom for us. Apparently you should pout like a duck. No, I found that one difficult to follow too. Do ducks pout? Well, there is a question. I would imagine so, especially when passing full length mirrors or when a particularly handsome mallard with his green plumage waddles by.
His final nugget was directed at the tenors (I believe) during Crucifixus, when he encouraged them to "just wing it". Righto! It must be said that winging an 18th Century piece, in Latin, in 8 parts is slightly easier said then done, but I think the words of advice were welcomed anyways.
So with a week to go the Rudsambee-lets are looking forward to a great gig at the Portrait Gallery next Thursday. There are a number of good reasons why you should come:
1) It is straight after work at 6.
2) It is a nice building with a rather startling acoustic.
3) It is free (bargain, you can't get cheaper than that blog fans).
4) The music will be good.
5) We are beginning with two Tormis pieces which, for an audience, is a little like jumping into a cold Scottish loch in March - a bit of a shock but ultimately satisfying and exhilarating.
6) Apparently there's some art nearby in case you're early.
So we'll see you all there then. The week after is one of our infamous Rudsambee parties. Robin (who will soon be moulding the finest minds of the young generations - congrats on getting into teaching training, pal!) and I will be bringing Guitar Hero along. Oh yes, the photographs courtesy of Chief Blog Editor are sure to be spectacular.
Until next week, when in all likelihood you will get two posts for the price of one. As this blog is free, that is not a great deal of outlay for you!
CSW
Thursday, 19 March 2009
More Blogstuff by Claire2
Firstly, Blog-friends, I feel I should mention that tomorrow today (March 19th) is the birthday of our Great Leader and should, therefore, be a day off for Rudsambeeites and their faithful followers. Perhaps we should present a petition to this end (or to parliament, whichever is easier). I’m sure Authority would be sympathetic to our cause. Don’t ask me for his exact age as I’m not sure. Let it simply be said that he is very young indeed but wears the cloak of responsibility like the old man he closely resembles. (A joke G.L. if you are reading this, a small jest in honour of your special day!)
I do know the exact age of Jenny’s mother – to the year anyway, if not the day. She is... no, I shan’t say. How rude that would be. Anyway, she is not too old to do 80 sit-ups every morning, which is extremely impressive and led to some discussion about stomachs and bouncing balls but the less said about that, the better.
There were no cows or choir-socks in evidence tonight but a large frog made his (her?) debut as breath-control instructor. Unfortunately for this well-travelled but interestingly reticent amphibian the demonstration involved being squashed under a tray depressed by Sebastian’s large foot (his small one would have nothing to do with such cruelty). Once the pressure was removed, the flattened frog puffed back up and thus illustrated how we should breathe in, in a relaxed, unlaboured fashion. Chris pointed out, somewhat querulously, that he had stood on a frog once (perhaps it had failed to turn into a prince and required punishment) but that it hadn’t bounced back...
We were slightly down on numbers tonight – I presume everyone missing had a good excuse, hmmm? – but worked quite hard all the same, preparing for out Portrait Gallery concert on April 2nd. (Is that the right date? Don’t have my diary to hand. Or my memory, it seems). At one point Ollie had us stamping and clapping and huh-ing and hey-ing, adding and subtracting movements and sounds and thoroughly testing our co-ordination skills. The results were amusing to say the least – from where I was standing, anyway. (The basses: bless them!) I do feel however, and have often suggested, that we should add some dancing to our repertoire. A few of our pieces are crying out for choreography. Really. For one blissful moment tonight I thought Ollie had decided to go for it - but no. No-one ever listens to me.
Claire 1, diva-extraordinaire, (who seems to think that I will just stand in now whenever she has better things to do than blog – or, indeed, attend rehearsal) will return with her ready wit and much better eye-for-detail and ear-for-the-ridiculous next week but thank you, all, for listening/reading. Until my next opportunity, this is your replacement blogetteer signing off and sending love and kisses as luvvie people do xx
I do know the exact age of Jenny’s mother – to the year anyway, if not the day. She is... no, I shan’t say. How rude that would be. Anyway, she is not too old to do 80 sit-ups every morning, which is extremely impressive and led to some discussion about stomachs and bouncing balls but the less said about that, the better.
There were no cows or choir-socks in evidence tonight but a large frog made his (her?) debut as breath-control instructor. Unfortunately for this well-travelled but interestingly reticent amphibian the demonstration involved being squashed under a tray depressed by Sebastian’s large foot (his small one would have nothing to do with such cruelty). Once the pressure was removed, the flattened frog puffed back up and thus illustrated how we should breathe in, in a relaxed, unlaboured fashion. Chris pointed out, somewhat querulously, that he had stood on a frog once (perhaps it had failed to turn into a prince and required punishment) but that it hadn’t bounced back...
We were slightly down on numbers tonight – I presume everyone missing had a good excuse, hmmm? – but worked quite hard all the same, preparing for out Portrait Gallery concert on April 2nd. (Is that the right date? Don’t have my diary to hand. Or my memory, it seems). At one point Ollie had us stamping and clapping and huh-ing and hey-ing, adding and subtracting movements and sounds and thoroughly testing our co-ordination skills. The results were amusing to say the least – from where I was standing, anyway. (The basses: bless them!) I do feel however, and have often suggested, that we should add some dancing to our repertoire. A few of our pieces are crying out for choreography. Really. For one blissful moment tonight I thought Ollie had decided to go for it - but no. No-one ever listens to me.
Claire 1, diva-extraordinaire, (who seems to think that I will just stand in now whenever she has better things to do than blog – or, indeed, attend rehearsal) will return with her ready wit and much better eye-for-detail and ear-for-the-ridiculous next week but thank you, all, for listening/reading. Until my next opportunity, this is your replacement blogetteer signing off and sending love and kisses as luvvie people do xx
Thursday, 12 March 2009
'We'll just have to go for three encores'
...the reaction, blog fans, to Maestro Boy's set list for the Portrait Gallery concert which is long, considering it is only supposed to be half an hour. And to top it off we are dusting down good ol' Misere Nostri. I must admit I balked slightly the suggestion of resurrecting this one; my most nervous moment as a Rudsambee-let was just before a gig in Lochcarron (I believe) when this testing little piece made me feel sick and shaky. However, I now have Helen on the top line with me and feel much less concerned. We'll see how we go with this one. The set list contains a lot of Tormis, a wee bit of Part jolliness and the Gaelic set!
Well, I must make a mention of Oliver2's rather brilliant musical socks. They have treble clefs on them and everything, although they don't actually sing. We more than made up for the lack of warbling foot fashion with our own musical fun.
It was a night noticeable for Anne's madness (which I promised not to mention but in my commitment to investigative journalism...). It was rather funny as, and anyone who knows her will vouch for this, Anne ALWAYS knows what she is doing, what is going on and EXACTLY what note we are singing at any given moment. Trust me, if it weren't for Anne a number of us would still be wandering around the Czech countryside, struggling across train tracks with nothing but a bottle of strong drink and a chocolate wafer treat as companions. However last night she excelled herself by being the only Rudsambee-let who couldn't work out where on earth we were going from in 'Green Fir Forest'. Cue much hilarity.
In fact it was a night of laughter as we returned to Envoi (that wacky one about butterflies where the second sops slowly pass out as they do that strange breathing thing towards the end - surely composer Betinis was a disgruntled alto or a cocky top sop to put that one in). We did a wee bit of practice on the soprano melody (I do indeed use that word loosely). When I suggested that the second sops had always made a particular phrase up, I was proved unswervingly correct (a rare experience, blog fans!), as we descended into musical rubbishness and Jen laughed like a drain (I don't know if I've ever shared this on Relative Pitch, but this phrase concerns me - I have never seen a laughing drain and feel I am missing out. [Susan kindly offers this]). Eventually we cracked it but not until we had been duly awarded the Most Pathetic Divas Award 2009.
We finished in true Groundhog Day style in exactly the same way as last week - the small/large group singing Star of the County Down. Jen seemed to sing something about the Nile at one stage. I may be wrong but I am not sure that the longest river in Africa (a bit of general knowledge for you there - I'll give you that for free, put your money away!) has anything to do with this traditional folkie number. As up-and-coming-blogstress Claire 2 said, the piece may well be improved with some stereotypical Egyptian moves - I'll leave you to imagine that one.
Last night we also welcomed Natalie back after her sabbatical. Great to see you lady. Anyways, I am away next week so hopefully Claire 2 will stand in and write something profound, thought-provoking and potentially life-changing. Brillig!
CSW
Well, I must make a mention of Oliver2's rather brilliant musical socks. They have treble clefs on them and everything, although they don't actually sing. We more than made up for the lack of warbling foot fashion with our own musical fun.
It was a night noticeable for Anne's madness (which I promised not to mention but in my commitment to investigative journalism...). It was rather funny as, and anyone who knows her will vouch for this, Anne ALWAYS knows what she is doing, what is going on and EXACTLY what note we are singing at any given moment. Trust me, if it weren't for Anne a number of us would still be wandering around the Czech countryside, struggling across train tracks with nothing but a bottle of strong drink and a chocolate wafer treat as companions. However last night she excelled herself by being the only Rudsambee-let who couldn't work out where on earth we were going from in 'Green Fir Forest'. Cue much hilarity.
In fact it was a night of laughter as we returned to Envoi (that wacky one about butterflies where the second sops slowly pass out as they do that strange breathing thing towards the end - surely composer Betinis was a disgruntled alto or a cocky top sop to put that one in). We did a wee bit of practice on the soprano melody (I do indeed use that word loosely). When I suggested that the second sops had always made a particular phrase up, I was proved unswervingly correct (a rare experience, blog fans!), as we descended into musical rubbishness and Jen laughed like a drain (I don't know if I've ever shared this on Relative Pitch, but this phrase concerns me - I have never seen a laughing drain and feel I am missing out. [Susan kindly offers this]). Eventually we cracked it but not until we had been duly awarded the Most Pathetic Divas Award 2009.
We finished in true Groundhog Day style in exactly the same way as last week - the small/large group singing Star of the County Down. Jen seemed to sing something about the Nile at one stage. I may be wrong but I am not sure that the longest river in Africa (a bit of general knowledge for you there - I'll give you that for free, put your money away!) has anything to do with this traditional folkie number. As up-and-coming-blogstress Claire 2 said, the piece may well be improved with some stereotypical Egyptian moves - I'll leave you to imagine that one.
Last night we also welcomed Natalie back after her sabbatical. Great to see you lady. Anyways, I am away next week so hopefully Claire 2 will stand in and write something profound, thought-provoking and potentially life-changing. Brillig!
CSW
Thursday, 5 March 2009
'The problem with the French is that we all have an opinion'
So we begin this evening's post with a quotation from our hostess with the mostess, Susan. Great line! She didn't mean, I hasten to add, that we all have an opinion about the French (e.g. that they wear stripy jumpers, cook perfectly and own a number of stylish berets) but rather about the French language. She is right of course, as last night's conversation illustrated. After a brief sing through of the Debussy I decided to head for a wee comfort break. As I left the room a discussion arose as to the correct way to say regarder. Upon rejoining the rehearsal the conversation was still in full flow and no definitive answer had yet been reached. Apparently we should watch our dipthongs. Now I don't even know what a dipthong is, but I will endeavour to keep an attentive eye on it.
So we began our rehearsal with a jazzed up version of the Jungle Book classic I wanna be like you led by our own King of the Swingers, Arno. Genius! We then spent a long while on our Chinese piece, Green Fir Forest. Mostly, I must admit, we battled with the words which are complicated to say the least. Fortunately we don't have as many opinions about Chinese as we do about French soscreaming arguments about polite discussion on the subject of correct pronunciation was kept to a minimum, with conversation largely dominated by questions like "is 'e' pronounced 'ee' or 'e' or 'uh'?". You get the general drift. Anyways, we are making quite good progress with this one all in.
We then moved on to the Debussy. Jen said that the sopranos "are very smooth". I think she meant musically or at least rhythmically, but I would suggest that our smoothness extends to our general demeanour. Anyway, we are finally starting to add some dynamics to this which must mean we are increasing in confidence.
And finally we listened to the small group version of Star of the County Down [NB we sound better than this]. I have heard wafts of this over the weeks but last night was the first time we experienced it in all its jazzy wonderment. It must be said though that these Rudsambee-lets haven't quite got the hang of the 'small group' concept. There were only five of us in the audience so actually the small group is, well, a large group! This group (affectionately now christened 'Rudsamwee' by this blogstress. Genius!) did a great job of this folky number and Robin even said it made him proud to be Irish (I think he wiped a tear from his eye, sipped at his Guinness and danced a short jig at this point but I couldn't be sure).
We ended the evening's revelries by flying two remote controlled helicopters around the living room. They were a little like two giant bugs I was chased by once across a car park in Kenya, so I must admit I was a little afeared. Helen was excellent at it though and definitely won my prize...if I had a prize...which I don't.
Anyways, that's all for now lads and lasses (goodness I had a Preab san ol moment there). Apologies to both the French and the Irish this evening as I appear to have made crass generalisations about both our two closest neighbours - good one C. I'm off to listen to John Wetton loudly through my new ipod speakers. Nice...
CSW
So we began our rehearsal with a jazzed up version of the Jungle Book classic I wanna be like you led by our own King of the Swingers, Arno. Genius! We then spent a long while on our Chinese piece, Green Fir Forest. Mostly, I must admit, we battled with the words which are complicated to say the least. Fortunately we don't have as many opinions about Chinese as we do about French so
We then moved on to the Debussy. Jen said that the sopranos "are very smooth". I think she meant musically or at least rhythmically, but I would suggest that our smoothness extends to our general demeanour. Anyway, we are finally starting to add some dynamics to this which must mean we are increasing in confidence.
And finally we listened to the small group version of Star of the County Down [NB we sound better than this]. I have heard wafts of this over the weeks but last night was the first time we experienced it in all its jazzy wonderment. It must be said though that these Rudsambee-lets haven't quite got the hang of the 'small group' concept. There were only five of us in the audience so actually the small group is, well, a large group! This group (affectionately now christened 'Rudsamwee' by this blogstress. Genius!) did a great job of this folky number and Robin even said it made him proud to be Irish (I think he wiped a tear from his eye, sipped at his Guinness and danced a short jig at this point but I couldn't be sure).
We ended the evening's revelries by flying two remote controlled helicopters around the living room. They were a little like two giant bugs I was chased by once across a car park in Kenya, so I must admit I was a little afeared. Helen was excellent at it though and definitely won my prize...if I had a prize...which I don't.
Anyways, that's all for now lads and lasses (goodness I had a Preab san ol moment there). Apologies to both the French and the Irish this evening as I appear to have made crass generalisations about both our two closest neighbours - good one C. I'm off to listen to John Wetton loudly through my new ipod speakers. Nice...
CSW
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