Author Archives: Daniel Harding

About Daniel Harding

Head of Music Performance, University of Kent: pianist, accompanist and conductor: jazz enthusiast.

Creating a contemplative space

Leave a reply

Second rehearsal last night, and this year’s Choir is taking repertoire on and throwing it back at me as fast as I’m throwing it at them.

Well..nearly everyone!

Barnum’s Dawn, which we performed last year, is a special request for the December Gala concert celebrating the new building from the Deputy Vice-Chancellor, and we began last night by looking at the middle of the piece, exploring the intense colours of ‘doors upon doors’ before moving to explore the rest of the piece. Finzi’s evergreen My Spirit Sang All Day started to come to life as well – this piece moves through a wealth of harmonies, both related and not-so-related (!) keys, at a lively pace; no sooner has the piece opened with an uplifting ascending unison phrase in G major, then you suddenly find yourself in the middle of the next page in G# major…

We’re continuing to explore my piece for the December concert, getting the rhythmic patterns with which the piece starts into place and learning the second section with its dissonances and clashing semitones.

A key moment in February’s concert will come at the end of the first half, when we’ll be singing a setting of ‘The Lord’s Prayer’ by Sir John Tavener, which we looked at for the first time last night. It’s a wonderfully tranquil piece, which consists of one or two phrases which simply repeat, creating a highly evocative and serene moment; we’re hoping to leave the audience in a contemplative state at the end of the first half.

This year’s student conductor, Emma, led the choir through part of You Are The New Day, a piece she’s chosen for the second half of the February concert. As is customary with barbershop-style, close-harmony singing, it’s actually pretty tricky to sing, for all that it sounds very easy, and the group rose to it with aplomb.

We finished by looking at two more of my Forgotten Children’s Songs – it’s the songs that have been ‘forgotten,’ that is, rather than the children – a lively ‘Stick Dance’ with which the suite opens and the more lyrical second movement,  ‘Cradle Song.’ The choir have responded readily to the child-like nature of the pieces, especially the rustic ‘Dance’ from last week, and have embraced the mock nursery-rhyme language and the individual character of each piece with great vigour.

And not only is she conducting the choir; Emma brought along ‘Welsh cake’ to the rehearsal last night, which sets a dangerous precedent for future rehearsals…

Underway

Leave a reply

And so this year’s Chamber Choir has met for the first time; after weeks of preparation and two days’s worth of auditions, finally comes the time actually to get to grips with the repertoire, not to mention getting to know the group.

Camille Saint-Saens: 1835-1921

For a group finding its feet for the first time, our first rehearsal was somedeal astonishing; having chosen the first few pieces with which to begin, we ended up rehearsing five works in total, rather than just the three I’d selected (so much for breaking the group in gently!). Our first musical steps were into Handel’s Hear Thou My Weeping, in an arrangement for four-part choir by Desmond Ratcliffe, a setting of the Ave Verum Corpus by Saint-Saëns (rather than its more famous incarnation from Mozart), and a look at two sections of the piece written by Yours Truly for the December concert.

The Handel in particular came off the page rather well, and the choir readily picked up the mood of the piece. The piece is a four-part setting of the aria ‘Lascia ch’io pianga’ from Rinaldo, usually sung as a solo, but realised here for SATB in a manner sympathetic to the original, and the group got the hang of it well. There’s already a sense amongst some of the group that it may become the choir’s calling-card piece this year…

And not content with those, we also looked at one of a series of four Forgotten Children’s Songs, which I’ve written for choir and percussion for the February Crypt concert, and a setting of Cantate Domino by Pitoni, a lively piece which will open the same concert in an uplifting and a decisive fashion.

This year’s student conductor, Emma, led the group in some lively physical and vocal warm-up exercises to get the rehearsal underway; she will be leading the choir in rehearsing one of her chosen pieces next time.

There’s a good feeling amongst the members already, for all that it’s very early days; some of the members are returning from last year, whilst roughly half of the group is new. The speed with which the choir picked up the pieces bodes well; we are up against it this year, with a major concert in December, together with the fact that the Crypt concert falls a week earlier than it did last year, so we will lose valuable rehearsal time. But it feels like it could be a very good year…

The trouble with learning the music

Leave a reply

It’s the week before Freshers’ Week, and I’ve spent the past few days getting to grips with the new repertoire for the coming year with the Chamber Choir. I still find this time of the year somewhat daunting, as I’ve written about previously here, but re-reading the post from last year has reminded me about the trick of learning pieces backwards; a vast stack of new pieces to get under the fingers can be quite intimidating.

Getting to grips with it all…

The trouble with learning all the music now is that I now want to start rehearsing it straight away; and yet there’s still the best part of three weeks before the newly-auditioned Chamber Choir will convene for the very first time. It’s frustrating; as I learn the music, I want to start putting ideas into practice, to start working on the trickier bits, but also to start getting those pieces about which I’m really excited off the page.

This year, both Emma (this year’s student conductor) and myself have our work cut out; the February concert falls a week earlier than it did last year, which means we’ll lose rehearsal time, and there’s the added commitment of a high-profile performance the second weekend in December, when the Chamber Choir will perform as part of the inaugural concerts for the new Colyer-Fergusson music building; which is followed on the Monday night by the Choir singing in the University Carol Service. Three performances in three day: phew.  We’ve talked through our plans for the first term, arranged the content of the first few weeks, and got ourselves organised for the start of term. And with my head now full of the notes, phrases, tonal landscapes and the languages in which to sing the new pieces, I want to start them all now.

I shall just have to be patient, and keep practicing the pieces at the piano until the first time we gather. Reading over the entries last year, remembering the way the Choir unfolded across the first few months, I’m starting to get excited again about the forthcoming choral year. Lots to look forward to; follow it all along with us on the blog here.

Closing time: last call

Leave a reply

There are now three days of Summer Music left, and the Chamber and Cecilian Choirs are prepped and ready for tomorrow night’s concert at St Mildred’s Church, Canterbury. For the Cecilian Choir, it will be the last time the Choir meets this year; for the Chamber Choir, it’s their penultimate performance, before a final flourish as part of the Music Society concert on Sunday afternoon.

This is, for me, probably the lowest point in the year; the sense that, after a year’s committed rehearsing and music-making, the Choirs are reaching the final moment, after which they’ll never exist again. By which, of course, I don’t mean that the University Chamber Choir and Cecilian Choir won’t appear again – they’ll be re-incarnated next year, after a flourish of auditions, and take on a new year’s worth of concert commitments. But it will be the last time the Choirs exist in their present form, with their current members. Some of the students are graduating in July; some are taking a year abroad as part of their studies; some are only here for a year.

That’s the trouble, not just with the choirs here at the University, but with all the ensemble music-making that goes on; after a year of working together, developing repertoire and a unity of ensemble, meeting new musicians and putting on concerts together, all that effort evaporates. Music, especially music performance, is a transient phenomenon: it exists in the white-heat of public performance, and afterwards ceases to exist. (Recorded performance somehow never quite capture the magic, the essence, the vibrancy of the live performing experiece, especially if it’s you involved in the performing). That’s a part of its appeal, certainly; striving for that perfect moment at which performer, music, listener and performance-space combine in one unforgettable moment, transcending all of these factors and becoming something unique, unrepeatable.  But it is something to regret too.

And it’s not just about the rehearsing; it’s a formative process, where developing the ensemble encompasses so much more than simply meeting once a week for note-bashing; it’s about the forging of friendships, the making of new friends, the sense of travelling together over the course of a year towards a shared outcome.

It’s a necessary part, I suppose, of working in a university: the ebb and flow as students arrive and graduate three or four years later. This time of the year is always something of a low; the rationale part of me remembers the heady furore of interviews and auditions that occurs in September and the exciting possibility afforded by all the different musical interests that arrive at the university at the start of each academic year. My job is to harness the potential for music-making at the start of each year and work to develop opportunities for it to be realised, for music-making  to take place; a musical animateur, if you will. It’s an exciting job; but comes with the commensurate regret each summer as the year draws to a close and some of the musicians prepare to leave.

It’s been a terrific year for music at Kent, and for the Choirs in particular. Hail and farewell to all those who are graduating or leaving for a year, and thank you also to eveyone who has been a part of it; it’s been a privilege and a very great deal of laughter along the way. You’ll be missed.

The final term: Ave Maria and a summer Sunday

Leave a reply

The Chamber Choir is now heading into its final performing commitments of this academic year, the first of which is Friday 8 June.

Part of the University’s ‘Summer Music,’ a five-day festival of musical events celebrating the end of another academic year, the Chamber Choir comes together with the Cecilian Choir for a programme of music in praise of the Virgin Mary.

Click to view

Ave Maria, on Friday 8 June at 7.30pm at St Mildred’s Church, Canterbury, includes Schutz’s lively Jauchzet den Herren for double-choir, and a combined performance of Gorecki’s epic Totus Tuus. Other pieces in the concert include Rachmaninov’s Bogoroditsye Dyevo, the ‘Kyrie’ and ‘Sanctus’ from Victoria’ Missa O Magnum Mysterium, and we’ve replaced Victoria’s version of the motet with Lauridsen’s beautiful setting, together with Lauridsen’s light-footed En une seule fleur.

After the concert, should the weather be fine and summery, we’ll be spilling out onto the greensward behind the church for al fresco refreshments, which may even include some impromptu music-making as well…

It’s going to be a lovely occasion, in the fine acoustics of St Mildred’s, and the penultimate choral commitment of the Chamber Choir’s year; we’ll be making a final appearance in the Music Society Sunday concert, Music for a Summer’s Day, on Sunday 10 June, in a boisterous finale together with the Concert Band, Chorus and Orchestra.

Details about Ave Maria, together with all the events in Summer Music, online here. Don’t miss it…

No ‘Rest:’ still rehearsing and a concert next week

Leave a reply

We’ve spent the past two weeks exploring new repertoire for our concert in June, but last night returned to a distilled section of our Crypt Concert programme to prepare for a lunchtime concert a week on Friday.

Click to view

Having spent the previous weeks looking at works by Schutz, Gorecki and Tippett, last night was time to resurrect pieces from the concert last month, ahead of the concert at St Peter’s. Floating through the first piece of plainsong and through into ‘Dawn,’ it felt like we were finally home again. Two weeks sojourning amongst new repertoire, and we’d finally come back where we belonged.

It’s a testament to how much we’d prepared for the previous concert that all the pieces were recalled near-perfectly; there was some dynamic scope to remind the group to explore, but the pieces were all there, as they had been in the Crypt. Returning to a selection of the pieces for next week, it made me realise how much work had gone into the Crypt concert, and how lovely it was to go back to it.

There’s a feeling of relaxation amongst the group, now that the pressure of the previous concert has been lifted; last night, the Choir sang with a new-found freedom, more assurety, than in previous rehearsals. Having performed them publically, we now know we can bring them off, and so we’re performing with a greater sense of accomplishment.

The concert next week (details here) is shared with the debut performance by the University Sirocco Ensemble, and will be a light-hearted way to bring this term’s music-making to a close. We’re looking forward to it…

Final rehearsals are over

Leave a reply

That’s it: the final rehearsals are over. I feel strangely liberated: there’s nothing more to be done now until the day of the concert, Friday; the programmes have been printed, and there’s no more rehearsals until we’re able to stand in the Cathedral Crypt on Friday afternoon.

The group were in good form on Tuesday night, which saw us rehearsing in St Peter’s Church, Canterbury, where we will be giving a lunchtime concert at the end of March. The church very kindly agreed to allow us to rehearse there on Tuesday, which gave us the chance to rehearse Friday’s programme in a lovely, resonant acoustic: and, as you see from the photo, in full performance mode.

The main thing that comes across is how much the Choir is enjoying itself; they are a terrifically communicative bunch with which to work, and when they are enjoying singing (Dawn, for instance, or In stiller Nacht), it is really obvious. They emanate such an infectious enthusiasm, it’s impossible to resist.

There are a few sore throats and colds and coughs going around, so we’re hoping everyone recovers in time for the concert. The next time we meet, it will be to fill the ancient, Norman crypt with a hue of colours in the music for the programme. Morale is high: I think it’s fair to say that the group feels ready for the concert.

Watch this space…

Ready for Friday

Getting into performance mindset and ordering pizza

Leave a reply

An intense week of rehearsals last week – the usual Tuesday night session augmented with a Wednesday lunchtime slot – culminated in a Saturday all-day workshop. With a wary eye on the four o’clock rugby kick-off, we gathered in the usual rehearsal room on a frosty-bright Saturday morning at ten, with a full day of working ahead of us.

Chamber Choir: before...

The morning was given over to addressing particular pieces where notes are still not entirely sure;  I’ve found it a useful exercise to help voice-parts approach lines by playing the soprano and bass lines together, followed by the alto and tenor parts. This serves two purposes: when checking notes, the sopranos can relate their melody to the underlying bass notes, and then the alto and tenor parts can see where their harmonies lie; it also means that you don’t leave one voice-part languishing until the other three have worked through theirs, a sure way of losing concentration and focus.

This worked well, and as the morning developed, we began to become more sure-footed. At the mid-morning break, there was a general sense that we’d moved on. At this point, one of the altos rang out for pizza after checking what everyone would like. It’s become a tradition that everyone brings food and drink to share at lunchtime – organised earlier in the week by the choral-rep-cum-nutritional-officer, Matt – however, Lucy had been working so hard during the week (I’m sure that’s what she said, anyway) that there hadn’t been the time to go shopping; so at the break, an order was placed with the local pizza delivery service, and everyone could relax in the second part of the morning.

At lunchtime, I’d noticed that Eliot College Hall was free – usually in use by student societies or alive with drama rehearsals, Eliot Hall lay unusually quiet. As anyone who has been in the Choir before will recall, the usual rehearsal venue is small and has no acoustics whatsoever, and the opportunity to sing in a more resonant space was too good to miss. After lunch (pizzas successfully delivered, and with some very fine chocolate brownies from the kitchen of Choir Cakes and Confectionery Officer Emma), we therefore decamped to Eliot for the afternoon rehearsal, and here is where the day began to gather momentum.

This year, we’ve decided to adopt a more formal mode of concert dress: the ladies have chosen floor-length, formal black to match the all-black suits of the chaps, whilst everyone will be wearing purple scarves or ties. This stems from a sense that, the more formal and organised the group appears, the more the audience will trust it. Look the part, and even before you’ve sung a note, you’ve won the audience over. With this in mind, all the ladies elected to bring in their dresses and try them on, to check the uniformity. It struck me that this would be an excellent opportunity for the chaps to do the same (with suits, not dresses…) and we could run the entire programme in concert-mode.  I’ve noticed before that as soon as you dress for a performance, you stand and sing very differently. The afternoon therefore represented an opportunity to run the concert in the mindset of full performance: dressed, standing, and singing in higher gear – and, thanks to the hall being empty, a chance to do so in an acoustic more similar to that of the Cathedral Crypt.

We’re running the first two items in the programme without a break – plainchant for Matins into Barnum’s Dawn. As soon as the plainchant died away in the hall, and the first colours of dawn began to emerge, the effect was immediate. A change came over the group – we were in full performance gear, and the new acoustics meant we could really feel the music taking flight. A new vigour came over the group, a real sense of relishing the sound we were making.

Over lunch, Paris, one of the sopranos had suggested members of the choir should take turns individually in coming out of the group to stand in the middle of the hall, to hear the sound. (As Dan in the tenors wryly observed, ”that’ll be everyone out for Sleep, then!”). As they did so across the afternoon, most of them commented afterwards that they had noticed the sound was blending superbly; singing amongst the group, you could hear individual voices more easily, but halfway down the hall, the group sounded like a single entity. With Steph leading a finely-crafted run-through of the Sullivan, it was a highly useful opportunity for us all to really adopt the mindset of delivering a performance.

We finished dead on four o’clock – over at the Stadio Olimpico in Rome, the whistle was blowing for the match to start, but also to signal the end for us of a very productive day. Driving home in the late winter afternoon towards the setting sun, I felt as though a minor landmark had been achieved. Well done, team: it all bodes well for the concert at the end of next week.

And after...