What can I say about choir this week? It was a smorgasbord of Christmassy stuff. A bit of Handel, a touch of traditional arr. Wilcocks, a healthy dollop of Giles Swayne’s Starlight (hurray!), a smattering of Bruckner and a pinch of traditional arr Drummond combined for some exciting musical fireworks and hideous musical collapses.
The collapses were largely in “Angels from the Realms of Glory”, which we’re singing in a not unchallenging arrangement by our very own David-the-Conductor. Angels from the Realms of Glory was written by James Montgomery in the 19th century, and appears to have several possible tunes. In England, though, the first time it appeared someone said “oh hang on, it’s that Angels one, I know how this goes” and ever since we have sung it to the tune of “Angels we have Heard on High”. David-the-Conductor’s arrangement takes this traditional carol interchange and expands on it, throwing in “Gloria”s and “Joy to the world”s with gay abandon and mixing them all up in some very unexpected harmonies. This was complicated stuff, and slowly but surely we all lost track of where we were. By verse 4 we may as well have been wading in chromatic mud. David-the-Conductor somehow coped with the horror of listening to us mess up his arrangement and dragged us through to the end with some very determined arm-waving, but we definitely didn’t finish in realms of glory. We’ve still got two weeks to polish it up though, so I’m sure we’ll be ready to spring it on the audience by the time the concert rolls around.
And the audience had better look to their laurels, because Angels is this year’s Oriana Audience Challenge, where the audience have to grit their teeth and make it through a carol together while the choir do everything we can to put them off. The audience are usually surprisingly good at this, but it is always a moment of tension in our Christmas concert. Someone in the second row actually swooned under the pressure two years ago and had to be revived by Phil the Tenor. If Wednesday’s run-through of Angels is anything to go by I think we might have to put the local hospitals on high alert this year.
Saturday, 27 November 2010
Friday, 19 November 2010
Hysterical? Moi?
I wasn't sure if there was going to be a blog entry this week, as I was too ill to go to choir and had to stay at home and watch The Apprentice instead (just for the Prokofiev, you understand). But given the scandalized text I received just after rehearsal was over, I felt I must acknowledge the fact that David-the-Conductor told the soprano section that they’re much more hysterical than the altos. Oh HOW can you SAY that!!! That’s COMPLETELY UNFAIR (clutches heart in anguish). And after ALL I DO for the choir! (You can’t see, because this is only some words on a screen, but I am actually storming off in high dudgeon right now.)
At least the insults got shared around, as I then heard from several quarters that David told the whole choir they were “singing like slags” during Berlioz’ Shepherds Farewell. How does one sing like a slag? I’m intrigued!
Of all the composers we’re performing in the Christmas concert, though, Berlioz is probably the most likely to approve of a bunch of slags singing his work. This is after all a man who declared “If the Emperor of Russia wants me, I am up for sale”. Oo-er. Berlioz does seem to have had quite a colourful life. In Paris when the July Revolution broke out, he finished writing a cantata amid the sound of bullets and then went out to “roam around Paris ‘till morning, pistol in hand”. He doesn’t specify whether this was anything to do with the revolution, it might just have been a regular pastime. He does seem to have been quite bloodthirsty. At one point he hatched a plot to murder his ex-fiancee and his family, dashing from Italy to France with a pistol. Ever the planner, he also took poison in case the pistol misfired, and women’s clothing, ostensibly to disguise himself but really so that he could strangle her with some pantaloons if the poison didn’t work either.
Luckily he thought better of the plan and so lived long enough to compose the Shepherds Farewell. Even this innocuous piece has an exciting back story. He first released it under a pseudonym, to prove the critics that they were wrong about his music, which received regular maulings. And they fell for it hook line and sinker, raving about it. One woman even went so far as to declare that “Berlioz could never write a tune as simple and charming as this little piece”. Far from being happy at this success, Berlioz was angry on behalf of all his other music. History does not declare what happened to the lady critic. I expect Berlioz lured her to the aquarium and ran her through with a swordfish.
(references all from good old Wikipedia)
At least the insults got shared around, as I then heard from several quarters that David told the whole choir they were “singing like slags” during Berlioz’ Shepherds Farewell. How does one sing like a slag? I’m intrigued!
Of all the composers we’re performing in the Christmas concert, though, Berlioz is probably the most likely to approve of a bunch of slags singing his work. This is after all a man who declared “If the Emperor of Russia wants me, I am up for sale”. Oo-er. Berlioz does seem to have had quite a colourful life. In Paris when the July Revolution broke out, he finished writing a cantata amid the sound of bullets and then went out to “roam around Paris ‘till morning, pistol in hand”. He doesn’t specify whether this was anything to do with the revolution, it might just have been a regular pastime. He does seem to have been quite bloodthirsty. At one point he hatched a plot to murder his ex-fiancee and his family, dashing from Italy to France with a pistol. Ever the planner, he also took poison in case the pistol misfired, and women’s clothing, ostensibly to disguise himself but really so that he could strangle her with some pantaloons if the poison didn’t work either.
Luckily he thought better of the plan and so lived long enough to compose the Shepherds Farewell. Even this innocuous piece has an exciting back story. He first released it under a pseudonym, to prove the critics that they were wrong about his music, which received regular maulings. And they fell for it hook line and sinker, raving about it. One woman even went so far as to declare that “Berlioz could never write a tune as simple and charming as this little piece”. Far from being happy at this success, Berlioz was angry on behalf of all his other music. History does not declare what happened to the lady critic. I expect Berlioz lured her to the aquarium and ran her through with a swordfish.
(references all from good old Wikipedia)
Friday, 12 November 2010
From a Plant to a Gardner
Robert Plant’s Electric Prom was televised last Saturday night, and my nose managed to sneak into a shot all by itself. I was most impressed by its blatant move to grab stardom and embark on a solo career. I guess the rest of my face has been holding it back all this time. There was quite a lot of angst flying around on Facebook during the day about who would look the silliest on TV. Well, I can reveal that the “biggest numpty” award goes to ... no-one. Everyone looked surprisingly good and confident. We should definitely step out from behind our choir folders and sing from memory more often, as it makes us look much more at one with the music. As to who looked best, well, that’s a hard one to call. Lots of people were jiving around their mikes like seasoned professionals. But Tom in the basses managed to go that extra step, with his relaxed confidence when Robert Plant introduced the choir. Everyone else looked a bit sheepish, but Tom accepted the plaudits of his adoring public as though born into royalty. Tom, you win the “Face of Oriana” award for your ability to soundlessly enunciate the word “Thank you”. Great diction.
Right, that really is it for the Electric Prom now, and we're well into rehearsing our Christmas music now. The Gardning leave that I so optimistically predicted a couple of weeks back is already at an end, as John Gardner’s “Tomorrow shall be our Dancing Day” has somehow sneaked on to the programme for our Christmas concert. I’m going to get all my bitching in early, as I’m secretly certain I’m going to end up loving this piece. But at the moment I am once again outraged by Gardner’s inability to pick a time signature and stick to it. And seriously, what is that phrasing all about?? It’s as though he thinks “what would a singer do naturally?” and then does exactly the opposite. You spend hours trying to drum the unnatural phrasing into your head, only for a hollow sense of futility to hit when you actually manage to get it right. It’s the musical equivalent of a Rubix Cube. Or at least I assume so, I’ve never actually managed to finish one of those. To make matters worse, Louise in the First Sops has decided she wants the choir to sing this piece at her wedding in December, so we’re obliged by the bonds of friendship to put the work in. I’m tempted to say we’ll only sing it if she has it for her entrance music. It’d be fun watching her oscillate wildly between a waltz and a two-step all the way up the aisle.
Right, that really is it for the Electric Prom now, and we're well into rehearsing our Christmas music now. The Gardning leave that I so optimistically predicted a couple of weeks back is already at an end, as John Gardner’s “Tomorrow shall be our Dancing Day” has somehow sneaked on to the programme for our Christmas concert. I’m going to get all my bitching in early, as I’m secretly certain I’m going to end up loving this piece. But at the moment I am once again outraged by Gardner’s inability to pick a time signature and stick to it. And seriously, what is that phrasing all about?? It’s as though he thinks “what would a singer do naturally?” and then does exactly the opposite. You spend hours trying to drum the unnatural phrasing into your head, only for a hollow sense of futility to hit when you actually manage to get it right. It’s the musical equivalent of a Rubix Cube. Or at least I assume so, I’ve never actually managed to finish one of those. To make matters worse, Louise in the First Sops has decided she wants the choir to sing this piece at her wedding in December, so we’re obliged by the bonds of friendship to put the work in. I’m tempted to say we’ll only sing it if she has it for her entrance music. It’d be fun watching her oscillate wildly between a waltz and a two-step all the way up the aisle.
Saturday, 6 November 2010
BAH-HUMBUG!
The excitement of the Electric Prom is now almost completely behind us, although it’s being televised tonight (Saturday) on BBC2, so we do still have the “who looks like the biggest numpty” competition to come. I will report in full on the results next week! (Unless it’s me, in which case I will never mention it again). So we are now onto rehearsals for our next concert, which is, of course, Christmas. Up and down the land, choral singers everywhere are already harking the herald angels and wondering what exactly figgy pudding is. We were almost completely carol-less last year, so this year we’re going to make up for it with not one but two concerts packed full of Christmas cheer. David-the-Conductor has asked for suggestions from the choir for what we’d like to sing in our Christmas concert, and I’m delighted to see that Swayne’s “Starlight” is already on the list (“People of Planet Earth, hear what I say”!), although I think that whoever suggested Bohemian Rhapsody is likely to be disappointed.
I love Christmas carols, but not in November. I get pre-christmas rage when I see trees in department stores. It’s still AUTUMN you weirdos! So even though we tempered the premature Christmas jollity with bits of The Dream of Gerontius, I was still not in the best of moods at choir this week. And as always, when I’m a bit grumpy, I began to passively resist the situation. I diminuendoed when I should have been crescendoing. I emphasised off the beat notes. I sang random women’s names instead of the lyrics. It cheered me up no end, but thinking about it afterwards, I’m actually quite concerned. How come no-one noticed that I was belting out “Beryl and Flo” instead of “peril and woe”?? David-the-Conductor didn’t stop us even once to say “no no, that’s BURIAL, not MURIEL”. I am clearly not contributing much to the overall sound of the choir. But maybe I just need to get more strategic. The soprano section is too huge and solid to be undermined easily by one rogue scrooge. Maybe I should move to the tenors.
I love Christmas carols, but not in November. I get pre-christmas rage when I see trees in department stores. It’s still AUTUMN you weirdos! So even though we tempered the premature Christmas jollity with bits of The Dream of Gerontius, I was still not in the best of moods at choir this week. And as always, when I’m a bit grumpy, I began to passively resist the situation. I diminuendoed when I should have been crescendoing. I emphasised off the beat notes. I sang random women’s names instead of the lyrics. It cheered me up no end, but thinking about it afterwards, I’m actually quite concerned. How come no-one noticed that I was belting out “Beryl and Flo” instead of “peril and woe”?? David-the-Conductor didn’t stop us even once to say “no no, that’s BURIAL, not MURIEL”. I am clearly not contributing much to the overall sound of the choir. But maybe I just need to get more strategic. The soprano section is too huge and solid to be undermined easily by one rogue scrooge. Maybe I should move to the tenors.
Saturday, 30 October 2010
London Oriana becomes London Owliana at the BBC Electric Proms
How can I possibly do justice to our appearance with Robert Plant and the Band of Joy at the Electric Proms last night? It was brill! They were fantastic and it was a privilege to be able to join them for a couple of numbers in the encore. The culmination of a pretty hectic week of rehearsals almost every night, artistic tension, laughter, tears, and a really rather nice fish pie in the BBC canteen.
The tension mostly derived from some last minute cuts to what we were doing. David-the-Conductor had as usual put together an impressive and ambitious arrangement of three pieces that we’d been asked to look at – Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down, Twelve Gates to the City, and I Bid You Goodnight. But in rehearsals on Thursday with the band, it was decided that Satan had to come in the main set rather than the encore, and we would pretty much have had to do a synchronised pole vault on and off the stage in order to join in. So regretfully our accompanying parts to Satan had to be dropped, which was a real shame. In addition, once we’d run through the other two, the feeling was that some of the words the choir was singing were clashing a little bit with the band’s lyrics, so we also had to drop a few bars here and there, and also some lyrics in favour of oooohs and ahhhhs. Now, you might think we couldn’t get the lyrics wrong with oooohs and ahhhhhhhs, but let me tell you, you’d be wrong! There were many occasions when half the choir was ooohing while the other half was ahhhing, and we’d all grown so used to coming in strongly with “Twelve gates!” that every single one of us ended up singing “Tw-ooooooh” at least once. It was like the Owl Chorus. There was also the added complication that some bars were dropped or truncated, so we were suddenly coming in on different notes to what we’d learned. And on top of all that, we found at sound-check on Friday that we were all individually miked, and standing further apart between rows than we were expecting. So we couldn’t hear much of ourselves, the rest of the choir or even the band, and we were picking up the pitch once it had resounded off the walls, which is not the most reliable way to stay in tune. The soundcheck was therefore a little tense. “Aaaaa—oooooooh”, sang Emma next to me, a minor third too high. “Tw-ooooo” I warbled back at her, at least a semitone flat. We exchanged panicked glances while David-the-Conductor glowered and Robert Plant somehow managed to maintain a zen-like calm. It was not a high point of our day.
This could have been upsetting for a lesser choir, but happily we are the Oriana, and if there’s one thing we’re used to, it’s pulling off a performance when we’re not completely familiar with the pieces! At least I remembered rehearsing these numbers, and I haven’t always been able to say that in a concert. So we maintained our equanimity with some hastily planned semaphore signals on the part of David-the-Conductor so that we knew when to ooooh and when to ahhhhh. And of course, once the concert had kicked off and we heard how amazing Robert and the band were sounding, we were riding high on adrenalin and bopping like teenagers in the wings. Come the encore we filed on to a cheerful and raucous crowd who were clearly really enjoying themselves and welcomed us with warmth and appreciation. We had a lot to live up to, but I feel like we did the band credit. We ran through Twelve Gates first, and our inner backing singers burst through, oooohing and aaaahing like we’d been born to it. Not a tw-ooooooo in sight. And then came I Bid You Goodnight, in a stunning a capella arrangement. The Band of Joy sang first, and then we joined in with some gorgeous harmonies. It felt sublime, and by the reaction we had from the crowd, it sounded as stunning as it felt. It was a truly amazing experience, and I really hope we’ll get to sing with Robert again soon. And as an added bonus, a few of us walked into Jo Wiley in the corridor afterwards, and she said the performance was something special – praise indeed from someone that hears an awful lot of music.
So in the spirit of last night’s concert, I’m going to write the rest of the blog without words.
Ooooooooh
Aaaaaaaaaaah
Tw-oooooooooooo
Good night!
The tension mostly derived from some last minute cuts to what we were doing. David-the-Conductor had as usual put together an impressive and ambitious arrangement of three pieces that we’d been asked to look at – Satan Your Kingdom Must Come Down, Twelve Gates to the City, and I Bid You Goodnight. But in rehearsals on Thursday with the band, it was decided that Satan had to come in the main set rather than the encore, and we would pretty much have had to do a synchronised pole vault on and off the stage in order to join in. So regretfully our accompanying parts to Satan had to be dropped, which was a real shame. In addition, once we’d run through the other two, the feeling was that some of the words the choir was singing were clashing a little bit with the band’s lyrics, so we also had to drop a few bars here and there, and also some lyrics in favour of oooohs and ahhhhs. Now, you might think we couldn’t get the lyrics wrong with oooohs and ahhhhhhhs, but let me tell you, you’d be wrong! There were many occasions when half the choir was ooohing while the other half was ahhhing, and we’d all grown so used to coming in strongly with “Twelve gates!” that every single one of us ended up singing “Tw-ooooooh” at least once. It was like the Owl Chorus. There was also the added complication that some bars were dropped or truncated, so we were suddenly coming in on different notes to what we’d learned. And on top of all that, we found at sound-check on Friday that we were all individually miked, and standing further apart between rows than we were expecting. So we couldn’t hear much of ourselves, the rest of the choir or even the band, and we were picking up the pitch once it had resounded off the walls, which is not the most reliable way to stay in tune. The soundcheck was therefore a little tense. “Aaaaa—oooooooh”, sang Emma next to me, a minor third too high. “Tw-ooooo” I warbled back at her, at least a semitone flat. We exchanged panicked glances while David-the-Conductor glowered and Robert Plant somehow managed to maintain a zen-like calm. It was not a high point of our day.
This could have been upsetting for a lesser choir, but happily we are the Oriana, and if there’s one thing we’re used to, it’s pulling off a performance when we’re not completely familiar with the pieces! At least I remembered rehearsing these numbers, and I haven’t always been able to say that in a concert. So we maintained our equanimity with some hastily planned semaphore signals on the part of David-the-Conductor so that we knew when to ooooh and when to ahhhhh. And of course, once the concert had kicked off and we heard how amazing Robert and the band were sounding, we were riding high on adrenalin and bopping like teenagers in the wings. Come the encore we filed on to a cheerful and raucous crowd who were clearly really enjoying themselves and welcomed us with warmth and appreciation. We had a lot to live up to, but I feel like we did the band credit. We ran through Twelve Gates first, and our inner backing singers burst through, oooohing and aaaahing like we’d been born to it. Not a tw-ooooooo in sight. And then came I Bid You Goodnight, in a stunning a capella arrangement. The Band of Joy sang first, and then we joined in with some gorgeous harmonies. It felt sublime, and by the reaction we had from the crowd, it sounded as stunning as it felt. It was a truly amazing experience, and I really hope we’ll get to sing with Robert again soon. And as an added bonus, a few of us walked into Jo Wiley in the corridor afterwards, and she said the performance was something special – praise indeed from someone that hears an awful lot of music.
So in the spirit of last night’s concert, I’m going to write the rest of the blog without words.
Ooooooooh
Aaaaaaaaaaah
Tw-oooooooooooo
Good night!
Friday, 22 October 2010
From Shakespeare to Robert Plant
“I want to congratulate you on a fantastic concert last week” said David-the-conductor at rehearsal this week. “It was nice to do a concert where you all actually knew the music”. What can we say? It’s true. We do a lot of concerts, and it’s rare that we have enough rehearsal time to learn all the music to the same depth, so Oriana concerts are always an exciting mix of bliss and terror. Last week the bliss was firmly in charge, but really we were cheating because it was a repeat of a concert that we’d already sung in 2009. The terror is ready to get its own back though. In our heightened levels of confidence, we’ve decided to really challenge ourselves by learning all the pieces for our performance next week by heart. Oriana is going ELECTRIC, baby, and how could we possibly get in touch with our inner rock gods if we’re all clutching black ring-binders stuffed full of sheet music? So we’re dumping our folders – rock on! Next thing you know we’ll be drinking shandy and penning fake skull-and-crossbones tattoos on each others arms. Oriana – London’s most dangerous choir!
So it’s the Electric Proms next Friday and as I mentioned a couple of weeks back, we will be appearing on stage for a couple of numbers with the lovely Robert Plant and his Band of Joy. That’s their name, not just my description. I wonder how joyous they are in real life? I’m expecting big grins and happiness galore next week, or I’ll sue for false advertising. But even if they’re actually a bit dour, we’re still going to have loads of fun singing lustily away at the back. We had a go through two of the pieces we’re singing at rehearsal this week, and they’re both very interesting and completely different to each other in style. There are a couple of solo bits in one of the songs, and we had our usual moment of looking really hard at the floor when David-the-Conductor asked for volunteers. But it turns out David has a new strategy to manage this. Fiona-the-choir-chair foolishly smoothed back her hair, only to discover she’d inadvertently volunteered for a solo by raising her hand above shoulder level. Yikes. From now on I’m keeping my hands in my pockets at all times and turning pages with my nose.
So it’s the Electric Proms next Friday and as I mentioned a couple of weeks back, we will be appearing on stage for a couple of numbers with the lovely Robert Plant and his Band of Joy. That’s their name, not just my description. I wonder how joyous they are in real life? I’m expecting big grins and happiness galore next week, or I’ll sue for false advertising. But even if they’re actually a bit dour, we’re still going to have loads of fun singing lustily away at the back. We had a go through two of the pieces we’re singing at rehearsal this week, and they’re both very interesting and completely different to each other in style. There are a couple of solo bits in one of the songs, and we had our usual moment of looking really hard at the floor when David-the-Conductor asked for volunteers. But it turns out David has a new strategy to manage this. Fiona-the-choir-chair foolishly smoothed back her hair, only to discover she’d inadvertently volunteered for a solo by raising her hand above shoulder level. Yikes. From now on I’m keeping my hands in my pockets at all times and turning pages with my nose.
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Sops, shall I compare thee to the alto section? Thou art much shriller, and more numerous
It was our Shakespeare concert this week, and a good time was had by all in the choir and hopefully all in the audience too. There really was some fabulous music on the programme, and we felt like we did most of it justice. After last week’s soloist despair for the Gardner, the sops did all end up singing the O Mistress Mine solo in unison, which was a relief. The Gardner Shakespeare Sequence is definitely a piece to make us all long for safety in numbers, and luckily that wasn’t a problem for the sops as there are simply loads of us. (In fact the biggest challenge of the night was fitting us all on the stage. Second-row-Emma-and-Kath were actually singing from the wings for a while). But generally the Gardner went much better than some of us had been fearing. Under the Greenwood Tree I remember being a particular shambles when we last performed it, but this time we got it bang on. Lots of the other pieces really came together too. Applebaum’s Witches Blues was good enough that we were in danger of enjoying it too much – we were belting it out like a big band in the afternoon rehearsal, until David-the-Conductor pointed out that were singing about birth-strangl’d babes so perhaps the big grins and jazz hands weren’t so appropriate. Hopefully we nastied it up enough for the concert. The Vaughan Williams and the Mäntyjärvi were probably the most challenging pieces on the programme, but from the stage it felt like we got the spirit of them, if possibly not quite all of the notes. All in all we were pretty happy with how it went, and I confess to being even more happy that there’s no more Gardner on the programme for the rest of the year. We’re on Gardning leave.
So I have decided to START A RUMOUR that Jaakko Mäntyjärvi was in the audience. If you are in the choir or were at the concert, I urge you to join me in spreading this to those who don’t read the blog. Please say “oh yes, I saw him, he was the tallish shortish oldish youngish guy with lightish darkish hair sitting in the front near the back”. I was actually sure I’d spotted him in the audience for a while, but before you put too much faith in that assertion, bear in mind that I don’t know what he looks like and I also saw Stacey from EastEnders and my dead grandfather. But there was definitely someone there who looked a bit Finnish, so that’s good enough evidence for me.
So I have decided to START A RUMOUR that Jaakko Mäntyjärvi was in the audience. If you are in the choir or were at the concert, I urge you to join me in spreading this to those who don’t read the blog. Please say “oh yes, I saw him, he was the tallish shortish oldish youngish guy with lightish darkish hair sitting in the front near the back”. I was actually sure I’d spotted him in the audience for a while, but before you put too much faith in that assertion, bear in mind that I don’t know what he looks like and I also saw Stacey from EastEnders and my dead grandfather. But there was definitely someone there who looked a bit Finnish, so that’s good enough evidence for me.
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