Monthly Archives: February 2013

Starting again

After the high of the Crypt Concert nearly two weeks ago, this week’s rehearsal (the first since the concert) was a real back-to-Earth session.

Picking up again after the concert is the hardest part of the year; it’s time to learn new repertoire, back to learning the notes, and sitting back in sections rather than in mixed formation.

As one of the basses remarked, ‘It’s like we’ve gone right back to the beginning;’ and it’s true. Harder even than those very first rehearsals at the start of the year, when the Choir is finding its feet both musically and socially, when people are meeting each other for perhaps the first time, some of whom are only recent arrivals at the University. Having to go back to the start after such dizzy heights as the Crypt performance is always a challenge.

Nice work...

Nice work…

But this is when we can really start to push ourselves. The new pieces we’re learning for the remainder of the year are possibly harder still than anything we sang in the Crypt, because they are mostly close-harmony jazz arrangements, including some Gershwin. Plus there’s the customary arrangement of a piece plucked from the Chart-Dwelling Popular Music Tunes by yours truly to learn – sometimes even with added choreography (the latter, thankfully, NOT by me…)

So, whilst there was a sense of picking ourselves up once more, the new pieces are both challenging and fun, the two elements key to motivating the Choir to continue its progress now the February milestone has gone.  Close-harmony a capella singing is harder than it sounds, with angular lines written in order to articulate those purple-hued, augmented-fourth-rich jazz dissonances. But there was a sense of relish as we began to work on them, and the concert in the summer could possibly be our best yet…

Music divine: the Crypt Concert

And so, after all the hard work, the Crypt Concert came on Friday in a myriad shimmering sounds and colours.

Gathering for the rehearsal in the Crypt in the afternoon, we started by singing not the first piece in the programme, but the mesmerising opening phrases of Lauridsen’s O nata lux; I’d been promising the Choir that singing in the richly resonant acoustics of the Cathedral’s Norman crypt would be worth the wait, and I wanted the group’s first musical steps in the crypt to be memorable.

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Purple patch

As soon as we’d released the first eight chords into the space, there was infectious grinning blossoming all around the singers; this was what we’d come for. The slow unfurling of the piece’s rich harmonic colour was an especial treat in the surroundings of the crypt, and we could allow time aplenty for the colours of the chords to breathe in the space before moving onto the next phrase.

All that afternoon, we tested the acoustics to the limit with the repertoire for the evening, working out just how quietly we could sing, how diligent we had to be in articulating the consonants, how to close the vowels and resonate on ‘m’s and ‘n’s in order to hear that final hum work its way around the space. There was a palpable air of excitement building throughout the afternoon – we were absolutely ready, and looking forward to the concert. Experimenting with singing Dawn at the back of the crypt, the choice was made actually to sing it in situ rather than gathering behind the audience, as the acoustics worked better.

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Percussionist Carina Evans rehearsing the ‘Forgotten Children’s Songs’

The evening concert went like a dream – from the vibrant opening of Pitoni’s Cantate Domino, through the evocative textures of the two solo marimba pieces from percussionist Carina Evans, through the lithe works conducted by second-year student Emma Murton, culminating in the final ‘Hai!’ of the robust final Dance from the Forgotten Children’s Songs, the musicians were on top form, and gave of their very best.

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In fine form

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The ladies of the alto section

So my deepest thanks to all the performers, who have worked tirelessly over the past few months; it was a truly memorable concert, and you rose to the occasion magnificently.

Now on to the new repertoire…

The day’s last sigh: final rehearsal before the concert

Next time the Chamber Choir meets to rehearse for Friday night’s concert in the Cathedral Crypt, we’ll be in – the Cathedral Crypt.

Last night was our final rehearsal before Friday, and I have to say, it went like a dream. We sang through the entire programme, and Carina also performed the two pieces for solo marimba which she will be playing as part of the concert, to get a grasp of the geography and scale of the programme, to get a feel for the flow of the pieces and how they stand in relation to one another.

The Choir was in top form; intonation spot-on, pitch reliable and constant; there’s a wonderful unity to the ensemble now (as I said, the Choir is working like an accordion, breathing and relaxing together throughout the pieces) that means we are really feeling the works as a combined group. There’s lots of scope for us to be flexible according to the atmosphere on the night in the Crypt, to be able to respond to the richly-resonant acoustics, to dwell on particular chords, to push through individual phrases, and to linger as the final notes recede.

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In final rehearsal

The new mixed-formation ensemble line-up has really taken hold, with the overall sound much richer (and blending better) as a result – a bold decision taken two weeks ago has really paid dividends, and yielded a much more sonorous and mature sound. As a few of the members observed, we’ve started to enjoy ourselves to the point where the ppp passages aren’t perhaps quite so ppp as they were before – a sign of how much we’ve relaxed into singing, but something to make sure we’re mindful of when we perform on the night.

We’re ready to go: see you on Friday…

Challenging the boundaries between sound and silence

Last night’s rehearsal involved singing quietly. A lot of quiet singing. In fact, most of the session was spent exploring just how quietly we could sing some of the pieces in next week’s concert programme.

From the opening of Handel’s Hear Thou My Weeping, through to various passages of contrasting light and shade in Lauridsen’s O nata lux, and the entirety of Tavener’s setting of the Lord’s Prayer, last night was an exercise in seeing just how intimate a sound we could make.

Image: subrealism.blogspot

Image: subrealism.blogspot

The idea, particularly with the Tavener, which never moves away from pp throughout the whole piece, is to draw the audience to us, to make an intimate performance space into which the listener has to lean, in order to be involved. There are moments in the Lauridsen where the dynamics change quickly, and briefly – as I said to the Choir, it’s as though you are standing in a church on a cloud-darkened day, and suddenly, for a brief moment, the sun appears from behind a cloud and comes streaming through a stained-glass window, filling the space with colour. These transient moments of contrast, where radiant colour suddenly blossoms in a passage that crescendos and then diminuendos swiftly, are what give the Lauridsen piece its life.

Sustained pp singing is the cornerstone of Tavener’s The Lord’s Prayer, too; the dynamic remains unchanged through the piece, a quiet meditation on the prayer that, in its contemplative serenity, actually does what music can often do – transcend time, for a while, and take the listener into a very different realm. We hope to blur the distinction between the music and the silence surrounding it, creating a hiatus where it will be unclear whether the piece has actually finished, drawing out the moment of listening. It will be a lovely, intimate way in which to close the first half of the concert.

So, listen hard a week on Friday, if you’re coming to the concert; you might just hear the Choir singing very quietly indeed…

Radical changes and relinquishing control

There were major changes made during the Chamber Choir’s all-day rehearsal over the weekend, brave decisions being taken, and lots of creative ideas – most of them, excitingly, from the Choir itself!

Throughout the day, I felt as though I was slowly relinquishing control of the group, as they started to operate more and more independently. Whilst this was ever so slightly alarming, not to mention unexpected, it was a good thing, a positive sign that, at last, the group is beginning to act and feel as one.

Percussion Scholar Carina Evans took time out from playing the Orchestra and  Concert Band to come along and play the percussion parts in the piece I’ve written for the concert, ‘Forgotten Children’s Songs;’ moving between marimba, triangle, bodhran and tambourine, the new textures added some real zip to the movements, especially the last one; the set has really come to life, and will be a vibrant way to bring the concert to a close.

Second-year Emma leading a warm-up

Second-year Emma leading a warm-up

There were problems with pitch during the early part of the rehearsal, with intonation not always very secure and pieces often ending up dropping a semitone by the end (which, when you’re delivering bottom D’s as a bass in Tavener’s setting of the Lord’s Prayer, can be quite a challenge!) we changed our approach to key vowels to try to keep the pitch up; we thought about breathing; we changed our psychological approach to the shapes of phrases to think about intervals differently; and none of them yielded any significant change.

Then, from out of the blue, two of the ladies in the Choir suggested, for a change, we should stand in mixed formation, with each singer standing next to voices singing a different part, and see what happened. We duly shuffled around, and once arranged to make sure this was so, we started the piece again. Whilst this immediately resulted in a very different sound, it also meant (as everyone observed afterwards) that you could hear different parts that previously you couldn’t hear. The intonation was much improved, and now the group decided to stay in this formation for the remainder of the rehearsal. Singing in isolation from their own particular voice-part, suddenly everyone had to take charge of driving their individual line, with the resulting collective ensemble sound very much improved.

There was a great deal of fun to be had with extremes of dynamic contrast in the Hassler madrigal; we’ve decided to keep the dynamic changes throughout the verses spontaneous and unplanned on the night; it keeps everyone on their toes, and because we’re clearly having a lot of fun being mischievous with them, hopefully the audience will sense this too.

The Choir decided, by the end of the day, that they want to sing in the new formation on the night, a brave decision given that it’s less than two weeks until the performance and it means re-thinking all the pieces, including the three which we sang in the Gala concert in December. But it’s a measure of how much the group is growing in confidence, the fact that it wants to try new things and push itself further. There’s still work to do, now, in getting used to singing all of the pieces in the new line-up – and, as a conductor, I’ve got to re-think where and how to cue the voice-parts, given they are now scattered throughout the entire group; thanks, team! – but there’s a sense that the choir is really starting to fly now. We just have to trust each other and let go.

In performance mode

In performance mode

Find out more about the concert on the Choir’s ‘Wallwisher’ wall here, and details about the concert on our What’s On diary online here.