Changing our approach to Italian madrigals

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Conducting, for me, is a physical experience with something akin to playing the piano – if I can’t feel the music under my fingers as we’re working, either the Choir hasn’t quite learned the music yet, or I haven’t. There’s an almost tangible sense of playing the lines, pushing the chords through the air and grasping the fabric of the music to move the textural ebb and flow and to articulate the dynamic contrasts.

Last night was the first time that this has started to emerge, particularly in the challenging Italian pieces.As the Choir grows in confidence, it becomes more responsive to the emotional rise and fall of the music, and more flexible in its pacing. Aspects of this began to emerge as we rehearsed late into the night; filling the car with fuel on the way home, I stood on the garage forecourt in the chill night air and discovered it was after ten o’clock.

Monteverdi: how Russian ?

In a bid to get a more positive reading of the two challenging pieces in the programme, we changed our approach to the two madrigals dramatically. Rather than going for a ‘tip-toe’ approach to singing, influenced perhaps by the historically-informed practices of some other singing that mistakes authenticity for singing with a small sound,  that meant our pieces lacked confidence and commitment, we approached them as though they were Russian Orthodox pieces; the Monteverdi especially, we thought of as something from the Rachmaninov Vespers, with its deep tonic pedal notes and wide choral textures.

The difference was immediate: the sound was confident, the voices entered with more commitment, and sang more positively throughout the weaving textures.There was a more full-blooded sound, revelling in the evocative word-painting; the trick now will be to make sure we don’t indulge in it too much to the extent where we forget all the dynamic contrasts!

We worked as much without the piano as possible, and there is a developing sense that the pieces are starting to lift off the page; yes, there were a few moments where we turned an harmonic corner into a chord  more alarmingly dissonant than a composer might have intended, but we’re starting to find our feet; the more sustained closing passage at the end of the Monteverdi in particular had a lovely sound, and very fine intonation indeed.

Barnum’s Dawn is proving to be something of a showcase for the Choir, as we develop the dynamic range and really bring out the final ‘sunlit’ section with the eight-note aleatoric cluster in the upper voices.The Choir, I think, are aware of this as well: there’s a real sense of accomplishment when we finished the piece, a genuine sense that we’re creating something remarkable, that sees them smiling and nodding afterwards. It’s a shame, in a way, that the piece is the second item in the programme: the Choir’s signal performance, perhaps the nigh point of the concert,  will be right at the start. But you can’t move a piece called ‘Dawn’ to the end of a programme of music exploring the events of a single day, can you…

Chords out of context and Renaissance polyphony

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A busy choral week this week with both the Chamber and Cecilian Choir rehearsals.

As we get closer to the Crypt concert, the Chamber Choir rehearsals become progressively more involved, as we work to really make sure the intonation is good and that we can perform without the piano. There are moments when the choir really flies without the accompaniment – and then a few moments when we come to the ground with something of a bump… We’ve been taking particularly challenging progressions out of context, working to tune the motion between the chords effectively to ensure each voice-part knows the direction of the line. It’s especially challenging in the two Italian giants, the Lassus and the Monteverdi.

In contrast, Saint-Saëns’ Calme des Nuits is starting to develop a real sense of space, as we let particular chords build or dwell on the more static passages.

Renaissance master: de Victoria

In contrast, the Cecilian Choir rehearsal revelled in the glory of that masterpiece of the Renaissance period, two movements from Victoria’s Missa O Magnum Mysterium; we looked today at the ‘Sanctus’ for the first time, exploring sustaining the rich melismas right through until their very end. There’s a wonderful point where the sopranos are descending in stately fashion through the Aeolian mode whilst the other three voices are weaving their counterpoint underneath: a highly effective moment at the words ‘Dominus Deus.’ The ensuing ‘Hosanna’ moves to triple metre, and creates a positively dancing finish to the movement.

But no cake at the Chamber Choir rehearsal on Tuesday night: what’s happened to the Choir Cake Monitor’s due diligence ?!

Light and shade with the Cecilian Choir

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On the heels of the Chamber Choir earlier this week, the Cecilian Choir sprang back into rehearsals this afternoon, assembling to rehearse our programme for June.

The theme to this year’s programme uses movements from Victoria’s mass, O Magnum Mysterium, as a skeleton framework, which will be interspersed with other works, using the mass as the unifying thread. The programme will conclude not with Victoria’s setting of the motet, but Lauridsen’s meditative and enduringly popular incarnation.

The ‘Kyrie’ of the Mass opens with a single note, held suspended for four beats in isolation; the effect is that we don’t know what we’re hearing, which degree of the scale it is, or if it is even the tonic. The phrase descends a fifth for the second note, at which point the altos also enter, and we realise the opening note was in fact the dominant of the scale. The motionless nature of the opening contrasts with the gradual polyphonic build-up as the other voices enter and begin to weave their lines.

The Lauridsen setting requires some fine intonation, and whilst there are some beautiful colours, some of the movement between chords is not necessarily as linear as one might like – occasionally angular intervals creep in which sound lovely in context, but aren’t always going where one might expect. We explored several sonorities, practicing stepping between difficult chords to make sure we all knew where we were going.

The same is true of the last piece we rehearsed, Lauridsen’s deft, ephemeral En une seule fleur, which presents even more challenges in the same regard! Good fun, though; the programme will provide contrasting light and shade as we move from Italian polyphony to rich American colours and elsewhere.

And here’s a foretaste of the motet in a richly colourful performance from the choir of King’s, Cambridge.

Beginnings, endings: and cake

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It’s often said that the only parts of a concert programme an audience remembers are the start and the finish, and for a great concert, only the first and last pieces need to be good – anything that comes in the middle is forgotten. If this is true, then on the strength of last night’s rehearsal of pieces to open and close the programme, our concert in six weeks’ time is going to be brilliant.

LemonWith the Advent antiphons having worked so well in the concert last term, the February programme will open with a piece of plainchant for Matins and finish with one for Compline. Rehearsals resumed last night with the first of these, which will lead into the unfurling, evocative  colours of Barnum’s Dawn; the latter piece is really beginning to find its feet, and the aleatoric concluding section with the sopranos and altos each dwelling on a single, separate note evoking the hue of sunrise, is developing nicely. The plainchant takes some getting used to – reading off four staves rather than the latter tradition of five and working out where the Latin inflection leads certainly focuses the mind…

The main focus of last night was the two Italian Giants of the programme, Lassus’ O Sonno and Monteverdi’s Ecco mormorar l’onde. Two contrasting Renaissance pieces here, each challenging in their own way. Our main intent with the Monteverdi is to revel in the rich polyphonic writing – the piece has the lines weaving and tumbling over one another in its depiction of the murmuring waves, rustling foliage and gentle breezes – until the closing, homophonic section, which should then come as a relief.

Two English pieces followed, a piece new to the group in Dowland’s Awake, Sweet Love, and a revisiting of Vaughan Williams’ Rest. The key to the latter is maintaining a firm grasp of the dynamic range, and ensuring the full range of contrasting contrasts is explored.

Moving between standard and mixed formation, we concluded with the final work, our surprise encore, about which I can’t reveal too much here, except to say it’s an arrangement I’ve written of a pop tune that has the explore indulging its jazzier, do-wop style, in total contrast to everything else we’ll be singing. Persuading the group to adopt a more American swing-style approach proved no problem at all, and there was some swaying, finger-clicking and sugary harmonies with which to finish the concert.

The secret of all good rehearsals is planning, focus, and cake, it seems. During the half-way break, Emma brought forth a box of lemon cakes she had prepared for everyone – I’m not sure if there’s an accredited baking module as part of her degree, but she’s studying Drama, so you never know – which proved extremely popular. No wonder the second half of the rehearsal went so well, everyone’s blood-sugar levels were probably re-stocked. What’s for next week, then ?

Tidings of comfort and joy

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The annual University Carol Service in Canterbury Cathedral is one of the high points of the cultural year, a moment when the University community comes together to celebrate not just the Christmas message, but also its own diversity; with readers, musicians and participants from across the range of denominations and countries, a rich, international pot pourri that gives Kent, the European university, a unique identity in the UK.

The Chamber Choir, itself a microcosm of the range of countries, cultures and beliefs that find a footing at the University, spent the afternoon rehearsing in the Cathedral before the service, exploring some novel ways of standing (this has become something of an idée fixe with the group this year: when a choir is this good, the possibilities for sonic experimentation begin to widen in an exciting fashion).

Eyes left...and right...

One of the problems we found with singing our first two carols at the great West End of the Cathedral is that, in facing directly down the Nave, there is no support for the sound at all; no reflective surfaces giving back a measure of reverberation. After some experiments, we eventually settled on the way of standing (pictured), which allowed some of the sound to be given back from the ancient stone pillars of the Cathedral; such is the Choir’s confidence in itself that it didn’t need to be directed – in listening to one another (standing, as is now customary, in mixed-group formation), the group could hear something of itself given back from the stonework. As bass singer Matt remarked afterwards, “Having sung in mixed formation this year, I don’t ever want to go back.’’

The greatest challenge to the group wasn’t actually singing; rather, it was in organising its processing, in order to be able to move down the Nave to Once in Royal and end up in the correct formation on the steps in front of the rood screen at the other end. This led to some serious rehearsing of things such as standing and walking. But, once we’d worked out who moved when and in which order, and practiced walking with stately tread down the Nave (but still quick enough to get to into place before the carol finished – now that would have been embarrassing…), we rehearsed Remember, O Thou Man and our sections of the congregational carols standing on the steps.

Warming up

After a decidedly indulgent dinner at an adjacent hostelry, we returned to the Cathedral, and had a half-hour warm-up in a tiny ante-chapel near to the East end, well away from the congregation arriving early and with our rehearsing covered up by the robust playing of the Salvation Army’s pre-service carols. This turned out to be a lively and entertaining session, in which Steph led the group through some of the customary warm-ups and tongue-twisters (which were as nothing, it turned out, compared to the linguistic minefield of singing Silent Night in a variety of unfamiliar languages; as a way of celebrating its international identity, the carol service includes each year this piece with verses in several different languages). We then explored different dynamics, singing in a circle facing outwards, singing crouched or standing, and generally, well, having a great time (yet productive too!).

We then lined up – in our by-now well-rehearsed processional ranks – and filed down to the West end; our candles were lit, the congregation were welcomed, the lights of the Cathedral were extinguished, and then Steph led the group in Carol of the Bells. As the echoes died away deep in the East of the building, the congregation stood, and second-year soprano Marina lifted her voice to the great roof in the soaring opening of Once in Royal David’s City, before the Choir clothed the second verse in the rich harmonies of the tutti section.

Listening back to some of the rehearsal recording I’ve taken over the course of this term, it struck me that there is a great deal of singing, a lot of hard work, and an equal measure of laughter and mirth. I take this as a good sign; the group are, after all, there to have fun as much as they are to work and develop as an ensemble. There’s a genuine sense of trust and confidence in one another that has developed over the term, and they have become not just a group of students getting together to sing once a week, but a committed group of friends, with whom it’s been an unmitigated pleasure and a privilege to work this term.

As the candles filed out of the Cathedral after the service and into the night, the words of Steve in the tenors came to mind: ‘’I’m starting to feel really Christmassy now!’’ Just for a moment, at the very start when the Cathedral was hushed and the Choir began to sing, the orange glow of the dancing candles lit up not a group of singers, but a window into a deeper community, a miniature reflection of what life at the University is all about: different peoples coming together, joining in a communal enterprise, and becoming fast friends in the process.

Merry Christmas.

Crossing borders: a cosmopolitan rehearsal

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Last night’s rehearsal had a distinctly cosmopolitan flavour, as the Choir looked at English, Scottish, American, German and Italian repertoire: we’re nothing if not international in our programme outlook!

Brahms’ In Stiller Nacht has really found its feet, and we’ve been developing the really pernickety aspects of the texture; the detached crotchets in phrases had us, as one, tip-toeing through the chords with a terrific sense of fragility.

We’ve been looking for landmarks in Monteverdi’s Ecco mormorar l’onde, for specific moments of coming together, cadence points, beginnings of phrases, to give the piece a geographical sense; with long, meandering lines, the danger is that the piece simply becomes a collection of voices singing through lines without any sense of direction. (Anyone who has sung one of Byrd’s four- or five-part Mass settings will have found this before). The trick is making sense of the lines, using the starts of phrases and the commencement of new ideas (both harmonically as well as in terms of the text) to give the piece some three-dimensionality – guiding the listener through the piece by highlighting particular moments.

Bennett’s O Sleep, fond fancy occupies a similar landscape to the same composer’s Weep, O Mine Eyes, and needs similar moulding to the Monteverdi. In contrast, Sir John Stephenson’s arrangement of the Scottish air, Oft in the stilly night, is a simpler, homophonic piece that came together very quickly.

Most of the rehearsal was taken up with defining the chordal progressions in Whitacre’s Sleep, particular the opulent third section where the harmonic language opens out, the texture broadens as the sopranos soar upwards; key to this is actually the bass-part, making sure the root of each chord has a solid foundation. We’re still experimenting with mixed-formation singing, and this piece will really test the integrity of the individual voices; in order for the colours to blossom, each singer needs to have confidence in their line, to enjoy the dissonances and added-note sonorities and commit to the colours of each chord.

We concluded with one of the carols for next week’s Cathedral Carol Service, the evocative opening verses of Once in Royal, which this year features soprano Marina Ivanova conjuring up the magic of Christmas in the solo opening verse, before the rich harmonies unfold in the a cappella second verse as the Choir enters. It promises to be a magical moment in the Cathedral…

And, as if there isn’t enough to be excited about, this morning I’ve raided our sheet-music archive for copies of Lauridsen’s deftly lyrical En une seule fleur for the Cecilian Choir’s rehearsal tomorrow. Can’t wait…

(Preview track via LastFM).

Winter Words: the Cecilian Choir in Purcell’s Frost Scene next week

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Cecilian Choir logoThe Cecilian Choir has once again blossomed this year, and in recent rehearsals has been working on being the Chorus of Cold People in the ‘Frost Scene’ from Purcell’s King Arthur. As is customary, the Choir is formed from members of the University community – staff, students and alumni – as a sister-choir to the Chamber Choir, as part of Kent’s flourishing musical life.

The choir will step out on stage this coming Monday in the Gulbenkian Theatre, along with the University Camerata, in the last of this term’s Lunchtime Concerts; they will be the chorus of cold revellers, whom Cupid will warm up into a lively bunch, rescued from the clutches of the  Cold Genius

We’ve also been looking at repertoire for a concert next year, which will include sections of Victoria’s Missa O Magnum Mysterium, supplemented by other works. More about this as rehearsals develop…

Here are most of the choir (plus a couple of rogue string-players!) in rehearsal in Eliot Hall. The concert is on Monday at 1.10pm in the Gulbenkian Theatre: more details on-line here.

Brrrrrrrr…

Rehearsals continue: Vaughan Williams, de Rore and a secret

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With last Friday’s concert still ringing in our ears, there’s no respite in rehearsals: with the University Carol Service in the Cathedral looming, time to look at the carols for the service and also to visit the repertoire for February’s concert, some of which has languished neglected whilst we worked on the Advent programme.

The Carol Service opens with that bastion of the season’s choral music, Once in Royal David’s City, requiring a solo soprano soaring effortlessly through the opening verse; second-year Economics student Marina is in fine voice. We’ll be singing the second verse unaccompanied; two challenges here, to pitch our opening chord from Marina’s last note, and to maintain pitch throughout our verse, such that the organ and congregation don’t come crashing in for verse three in a different key.

Two pieces by Vaughan Williams, the Elizabethan partsong-style Sweet Day, and the wonderful Rest followed; the key to unlocking both works is managing the dynamics, with Rest in particular demanding a tight control across a range of dynamic contrasts. Sweet Day similarly sees some ebb and flow in dynamic shading, and we need to resist the temptation to crescendo in the first line of the last verse, to make sure we keep the pianissimo until the second line crescendo. The last chord is marked pppp; that’s a challenge in itself!

The main focus of the rehearsal was on a piece I can’t write about here, as it’s a surprise for the February concert; suffice to say, it’s an arrangement I’ve written of a jazz piece for the encore (should one be required!) which requires the choir to rid themselves of their polished control, and develop a barbershop-style of singing, with swung rhythm and some colourful close-harmony sonorities, complete with do-wop vowels.  A tentative first try at the piece, but by the end it was starting to develop some style; tricky, after cultivating a fine level of control in the Vaughan Williams.

A return also to de Rore’s O Sonno, for which we’re exploring the changing rhythmic feel throughout the piece, combined with an atmosphere of profound serenity.

One of the sopranos turned up with a batch of home-made raspberry-and-white-chocolate cakes, which saw the tenors scrabbling for the tupperware and could perhaps set a demanding precedent for future rehearsals ?

Make we joy now

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The season of Advent has well and truly begun over last weekend. In fine voice, the Chamber Choir rose to the match the occasion on Friday and delivered a performance rich in nuance, flexibility, and with a unity of ensemble that at times made them sound as one voice.

In fine voice: this year's Chamber Choir

All the aspects upon which we’d worked in rehearsals – dynamics, diction, flexibility – came out.

In the rehearsal earlier in the afternoon, we’d practiced the pieces, of course,  but more importantly, we’d rehearsed processing in and out and bowing. As I said to them, the performance starts the moment the group processes into the performing space; you win or lose the trust of the audience in that moment, in the manner in which you take command of the space, the way in which you hold yourself as you walk on. Walk with confidence, and the audience will immediately trust that you are about to deliver a performance equal in confidence. Walk on sloppily, self-consciously or nervously, and you communicate that sense to the audience and lose their trust in you. No matter what happens afterwards, walking into the performance governs their initial reaction and trust in what follows.

We also rehearsed bowing. In focusing so much on the pieces, on performing, It’s easy to overlook what happens after the singing stops. If you deliver a polished programme, it can be tarnished by losing discipline in bowing and leaving the performing area; a good group carries high standards of professionalism right through until it has left the public eye. There was some mirth over whether to mutter ‘Have I cleaned my shoes ? Yes, I’ve cleaned my shoes!’ in lowering and raising one’s head or to use ‘Down, two three – Up, two three!’ instead. Then there was confusion (and much hilarity) over whether, whichever phrase one used, one lowered the head over the length of the phrase (‘Have I cleaned my shoes ?’), or whether one whipped one’s head down straight away on the first word (‘Have’) and then immediately up on the later word (‘Yes’), which could potentially result in whip-lash. With such issues are pre-concert rehearsals concerned…

In the waiting-room outside the church, Steph led the warm-ups and we sang the first antiphon and our trusted Remember, O Thou Man to focus our minds on the opening of the concert. When we filed into the back of the church, preparing to process down the middle, we were greeted by a packed audience; from outside, candle-flames flickered and danced a warm orange halo at the windows, and the atmosphere inside was electric. As the first Advent antiphon rose into the rafters, I was immediately reassured; the sound was confident, the ensemble was secure, and the group was about to deliver a fine performance. As the text of Steve Martland’s carol puts it, ‘Make we joy now in the fest,’ and we certainly did.

Congratulations and thanks to everyone who participated, to the choir, readers, those who manned the ticket-desk, to Janet and Tim for their help with setting the church, to those who ran the post-concert refreshments and the nocturnal parking arrangements, and to Stephen Laird for the invitation to perform. Advent has begun.

Not long to go…

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It’s the morning of the concert: the programmes are printed, tickets are selling well, I’ve been going through all the music for tonight in my head as I took the dog roaming over the hills this morning, the Choir are chafing at the bit, ready to get to the church this afternoon for a short practice, and there’s little else to do.

Advent concertWe’ve had our final two rehearsals this week, and momentum is well and truly built: we’re full of potential energy (physics-at-school flashback), poised to begin the push through this afternoon into tonight’s performance. Even the Steve Martland carol, which has caused us some interesting moments, is reaching its zenith.

Looking back over this blog at the choir’s evolution over the course of this term, I realise how far we’ve come in a short space of time; I suddenly remembered that, until the first rehearsal back on October 4, this choir hadn’t met, hadn’t sung together, people didn’t know one another. In a mere seven weeks, they’ve turned from a nervous group of strangers into a fully-fledged choir; in the past two weeks especially, they’ve developed confidence in one another, and begun to develop a rounded, confident sound, flexible in its dynamic scope. They’ve learnt an entire programme for  concert performance, and have also been learning repertoire for the concert in February.

Not bad for a group that tends to meet only once a week…a testament to their commitment, and to Steph’s work with them as well.

The church people are currently setting the church for tonight, including (I hope) an array of candles, and possibly even a candelabra suspended from the roof mid-way down the nave. With the place a-glow with candles, hushed expectation in the audience, the first of the Advent antiphons is about to weave its magic through the air and really open the door into the season.

Here’s to tonight: stand by for a review afterwards.