A burst of percussion

I have fond memories of music class at primary school. The teacher would produce a box of tambourines and spoons and strange clattery things pretending to be musical instruments, and you could just pick them up and shake them enthusiastically in no kind of rhythm and call it music. So easy! I always got the jingly sleighbell thing, but between you and me, I really wanted the guiro. I had guiro envy. My friendship with Georgina Jones nearly ended for ever when she got the guiro and I didn’t.

All of this came flooding back at choir this week as Emma in the first sops, who is a music teacher in her non-choir time, laid out a selection of school percussion instruments. Various members of the choir will be attempting to play these for our performance of Whitacre’s “Cloudburst” at our Southwark concert in June. Cloudburst is a superb piece of complex harmonies and interesting extra sound effects, hence our sudden foray into the world of percussion.

Emma’s borrowed chimes were considerably more professional-looking than the matchboxes and bits of roller skates that passed for musical equipment in my school. They were super-cool triangular metal thingies with an attached clapper. There was a bit of a melee while everyone reverted to their inner 6-year-old and tried to grab a chime. I remembered the distress caused by Guirogate and decided to magnanimously rise above my need to do so, which turned out to be a good call as I then realised some of the chimes actually had to follow a melody. I think that might have been beyond my percussive abilities. Everyone peered at their scores in confusion and tried to shake their chime in time to the music. “Whose got top A?” David-the-conductor asked. No-one had top A. Not to be thwarted, David produced a bright pink mini-handbell that played approximately the right note and tried to hand it out to the tenors, who all shifted uncomfortably in their seats. This was clearly a bridge too far even for the campest of them. Luckily an alto came to the rescue. “G#!” cried David. Everyone peered around for a G#. “There definitely is a G#” muttered Emma, but G# had clearly lost their nerve. Out came another handbell. We proceeded laboriously through the chime melody, struggling to keep the pace even. It was like church bell-ringing on a drunk Sunday afternoon. Then came the freestyle section where the chimes could play as they wished – hurrah! Those of us who were chimeless began to simulate the sound of rain by clicking our fingers. “Now start slapping your thighs” ordered David. We obviously couldn’t do this and read the music at the same time, so down went the music. The people with chimes were going mental, while the rest of us were crouched over, slapping our thighs and trying to read our music off the floor. Suddenly the soprano line rose to the stratosphere. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to hit top B from a bent-legged crouch but believe me, it’s not easy. I think a couple of us made it, but it definitely wasn’t me as I was laughing too hard. I can honestly say I’ve never had so much fun at choir. Can we do percussion every week? I’ll buy my own guiro and everything.