Berberis' World

Saturday, 30th October 2010, Royal Albert Hall.

Brace your lungs! Clear your throats! Lock your knees! Batten down your hatches! It’s Carmina Burana! BUT! Where are the Welsh Guards and their splendidly shiny horns? Where are the Fruit Pastilles? Why the hell am I sitting here?

In the midst of Westminster we are again in the Royal Albert Hall, with its crowded dressing rooms (‘Ladies of the LPC’ were in 9 instead of our usual 8: it’s the wrong way round, there’s no CCTV, the majority of the lockers don’t work, but they have more shower space) and its bizarrely hot basement corridors. Carl Orff’s musical weird-fest was (this time) performed by ‘400 voices in Monumental Harmony’ (in democratically alphabetical order) the English Concert Chorus, the London Philharmonic Choir, the Royal Choral Society, and the Southend Boys’ Choir.

I’ve sung this at least twice before (in November 2005 with Lewisham Choral Society and, in 2009, with the LPC) but it’s such an easy piece that I could almost sing it sans score, a là Beet9. My main problem? My eyes. I have reached that stage in life when my eyes no longer want to focus on anything either close to/somewhat removed/very far away from me. Contacts and reading glasses are no good, because the reading glasses are too narrow to allow me to look at both score and conductor simultaneously; I head-bob like a rabid pigeon. So I wear my normal specs and hope that repeated blinking doesn’t deposit too much mascara on the inside of the lens and render me blind.

(It’s 1.15am and, whilst I don’t have to be up especially early tomorrow, there are limits when you get to my age).

It took a dog’s age for everyone to line up in the right order. It’s not rocket science, chaps; you only have to remember who is sitting to one side of you. If we made everyone hold hands with the person on their right it would solve the problem instantly. Hmm. Somehow, I can’t see that happening…

My OU course started today. Having started (and abandoned, from lack of both time and money) a 10 point Arts course many years ago, I decided to have another go. I chose another 10 point course which is done almost entirely online, without the residential school requirement, called ‘Start listening to music’. Now, in common with arguably the entire world’s hearing population, I have been listening to music since I realised I could hear anything, so I had to admit that studying listening to music did seem fairly pointless. However, it has not escaped me – in writing this blog – that I occasionally have difficulty explaining why I like certain pieces of music and dislike others.

For instance, you may recall that I have – in earlier posts – expressed a dislike for Vivaldi’s Gloria and Cecilia McDowall’s Magnificat. Conversely, I love Bach’s B minor Mass and Eric Whitacre’s Lux Arumque. Presumably, this is because there is something in my brain which finds the former disagreeable to listen to but not the latter. If I had to explain it more thoroughly, I’d struggle. That much is abundantly clear.

And yes, there is a difference between listening and hearing. It sounds obvious when you say it like that, but it’s perhaps not so when you’re actually doing them. Hearing is what you do when the radio is on in the background at work, or in a shop, or driving a car. Listening is what you do when know you are not going to be interrupted, and you can turn the lights down low, relax in a comfy chair with maybe a glass of your favourite tipple.

I’ve also realised that listening to music is also going to require me to be more open-minded. I find it easy to dismiss, without much thought, not only just single bands (Kings of Leon, Florence and the Machine, Stereophonics) but also whole genres like jazz, rap and reggae. I could argue that I find the voices of the lead singers of the named bands particularly grating, and that the genres I’ve singled out produce nothing but the same tune (with or without words) time after time. This is patently untrue. You only have to go to Wikipedia to find that the entry for ‘Jazz’ includes Scott Joplin and Herbie Hancock, ‘Reggae’ names The Maytals (Toot-less and Toot-ed) and UB40, whilst that for ‘Rap’ is so peppered with names it’s impossible to single anyone out.

When (to be honest, it’s not a question of ‘if’) I’m accused of being narrow-minded, I counter with the argument that it’s not particular bands or genres that I like or dislike, it’s particular songs or melodies that move me. Perhaps it’s the ‘Desert Island Discs’ conundrum; in the unlikely event that I was asked to appear on that programme now, my 8 tracks would include ‘Hysteria’ by Muse, ‘Herr, lehre doch mich’ from Brahms’s Ein Deutsches Requiem, ‘It Is Well With My Soul’ by Four Voices (a stunningly good barbershop quartet I literally stumbled upon on the intertubes), ‘Champagne Supernova’ by Oasis (reminds me of moving to Newcastle), something by Sting (‘Dream of the Blue Turtles’, ‘Mercury Falling’, ‘The Soul Cages’ and ‘Summoner’s Tales’ being but four from which it would be very difficult to pick only one song) and Stevie Wonder (and where to start with this man?). The last two would be difficult. ‘She Makes My Day’ by Robert Palmer, ‘Every Time We Say Goodbye’ by Ella Fitzgerald, the 3^rd Movement of Rachmaninov’s 2^nd Piano Concerto… the list is very long and (I’d like to think) very diverse. Well, quite diverse. Still, as I’m not going to get Kirsty calling me up any time soon (any time at all, actually) I don’t have to worry about it.

Still, I am straying from the subject somewhat: yesterday’s Carmina Burana. Normally, I would take the bus (436, then the 9 or 10) but, as my other half decided (against type) to come and see the show, we drove into South Ken, finding a parking spot behind the RAH for £2.20 per hour. Sounds a lot, but… actually, it’s a lot. And they only took cards… Waylaid for only a moment by two cops on bikes, who reminded us of the dangers of leaving visible trinkets to tempt ne’er-do-wells we made our way to the not-so-round-as-you-might-think Albert Hall to enjoy Berlioz’s ‘Radetzky March’ and Saint-Saëns ‘Symphony No. 3 in C minor (Organ)’ before the epic Orff-ness in the 2^nd half.

And the wheel went round, and I felt that although we were louder than at the rehearsal, we traded something of the accuracy in places. The soprano was good, the baritone was very good, but tenor was superb, and played his part brilliantly, getting many laughs as he ended up prostrate in front of the organ seat until the end of the concert.

I hadn’t expected the Hall to be as full as it was – apparently, the concert was a sell-out – and the audience response was extremely enthusiastic. I felt quite emotional at the end, and (I’m told) that the biggest cheer of the night was for the combined adult choirs. I thought it was for the Southend Boys, but perhaps that’s just me.

I found out today (1^st November) that I should have done my re-audition at 12.20pm on Saturday. I have heard some nightmare stories about these – people I knew, and who I thought were good singers, have been rejected – and I’m not looking forward to having to go through the process at all. In the meanwhile, I have my copy of ‘Improve Your Sight Singing’  and I really should be reading that instead of writing this.