It's not really surprising that I'm feeling croaky. I've just returned from my annual weekend at Halsway Manor in the Quantocks. Each year, The Laetare Singers, a group of about 60 like-minded singers, get together with a conductor for a weekend of singing and socialising. 
This weekend our conductors David and Libby took us from the lush passion of the Cardosa Requiem through Parry's Songs of Farewell to arrangements of African singing.
As if that wasn't enough, each evening after supper we gathered in the lounge bar with its beautiful fire and sang together informally. sacred motets, songs, anthems and, of course, madrigals.
A lot of the time we were rather Can Belto but occasionally we managed to tap into the breathtaking beauty of the works, despite, or maybe because of having a book in one hand and glass of wine in the other.
In My Day
The first proper madrigal I ever sang was "April is in my Mistress' Face". Beatrice and I can still sing our parts without music. Earlier blogs will show how amazed I was to discover madrigals when I first went to grammar school. From the 5th form onwards I was a member of the madrigal group and really enjoyed our singing.
When I told David that I was singing madrigals he press-ganged me (fairly willing I was) into joining a group with the catchy title of The Byrdian Society. This was a tiny madrigal group that he and his friend Gregory had created in an attempt to raise funds for the local preservation society. In fact, it was so small that I was the third member. We found a second soprano and alto and were all set.
We sang a wide range of madrigals and as the only voice on my part for most of the time it was an initiation into sight reading of the most drastic kind. I don't think our marketing was very good and we often performed to audiences of fewer than ten. A high spot was a Christmas concert given at 4 Beulah. We sang medieval carols and Mamma served mulled wine, mince pies and turkey sandwiches. And we had a full house of about twenty five.
Gregory also was choirmaster at a small Catholic church in West Norwood. The church itself looked like a warehouse and the congregation was mostly Italian and Irish immigrants. But every week they had a full polyphonic mass. We once gave a concert to a skeleton audience in which I sang Allegri's Miserere, complete with top C's.
Thanks to my school and Gregory, I am able to sight-read complex polyphonic works without a scrap of more than the most basic musical knowledge.
But I do think it's a hot drink and early night tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment