News
Womanly Wiles by I Venus
04/06/2010 08:13:00
June is bursting out all o-o-ver
Can it really be a year since I last waxed lyrical about St Magnus Festival and its chorus?
This time the preparations are even more phrenetic for sopranos and
altos, tenors and basses. We're doing Poulenc's 'Gloria'. This is
another wonderful piece for the choir to tackle, but there are some
nasty and difficult runs. The men, as usual, seem to have it quite easy -
though they wouldn't agree of course.
If the choral preparations are anything to go by, the same activity in
the festival office must be frightening. I've never been in there at the
run-up to the opening day, but it could well be nerve-wracking. Now the
staff must contend with the possibility of cabin crew strikes and
volcanic ash. The first should know better and the second is a
geophysical pain.
But none of that matters when we're practising. Glenys Hughes, our
director, has had us note-bashing since mid-February. (I expect she
really feels like bashing us from time to time, but is too much of a
lady to say so.) Also, we're very lucky in having musician, Iain
Campbell, to stand in for Glenys whenever necessary.
The makeup of the choir constantly surprises me - not that I mean that
people have three heads or anything - just that it is a constantly
changing body, organism almost. One year I think I know pretty well
everyone, and then the next there will be loads of new faces.
Not only that, every year we have something different to sing, different
conductors for practices and for the performance. It's all very
exciting.
We have Glenys to take us through the huge bulk of the practising;
famous choral instructor, Joseph Cullen, to give us an extra polish from
his point of view; Martyn Brabbins to tell us what he really wants on
the night; and the students on the Orkney Conductors' Course to put us
through our paces as well. In fact, that's an evening marathon, as each
student conductor takes us for a session and by the end of the night
we're really sung out. There's plenty more like me who take a flask of
coffee and a biscuit - just to see the night through without expiring
completely.
This year we have an extra musical score to work with as Sir Peter has
composed 'a new piece for choir and orchestra' and we're practising that
as well. I do believe that the sopranos have the most difficult part -
but I'd say that anyway, wouldn't I?
As usual in the run-up to the big night, the chorus will have several
rehearsals, including one with the symphony orchestra on Sunday 20th.
Nobody should really miss this last effort as even one voice coming in
wrong may start a chain re-action! But the first partnership with the
orchestra is always a nightmare.
We've been used to singing with just the piano; maybe getting a few bars
entry and then off we go. It's different with a professional orchestra.
Suddenly there's a bellow of brass, a crash of drums, a twinkle of
woodwind and a surge of strings. Help, where are we! It's a mystery how
we can hear anyone over the tympani crashing on our right-hand side.
Gradually we calm down, realise that we really do know where we are and
the timpanist turns round to apologise for the din he's making. Now we
have to learn to sing with 'the band' after five months of one
instrument only. It's hard going.
We may need to be on the 'qui vive' even more than usual this time. The
score is published in France, where musical notation is very expensive
to print. They tend, therefore, to be very niggardly with choral
information.
The upshot of all this is that we don't have a full musical score, only
the vocal lines with a note of the number of bars that are to be played
before we come in. We don't actually see the musical notation in the
instrumental intervals. This means that we can count beats per bar like
madmen (or women) but we don't actually see those notes on the staves.
I can hear you saying, 'Bit of guesswork going on then … what's this
going to be like?' But never fear. We've been well groomed.
Now we are looking forward to the night itself. First of all we all
congregate in a back room of the Picky Centre. It's a huge gathering of
like-minded men and women - and how often does that happen outside of
music?
I wish you could see us - a sea of black and white. Perhaps we look
like penguins. There's a murmuring up and down the scale; snatches of
musical phrases from the piece; little groups having a last practice of a
difficult run; a last sip from the bottle of water. Then we get into
rows like soldiers.
All this doesn't happen by accident, you know. We have to get ourselves
into our lines for walking on, remembering who's in front and who's
behind and the end of one line and the start of the next. The heart is
beating fast and we're ready to go.
At last we're on stage and the lights are bright and dazzling and we
feel so too.
We've glued our eyes to the conductor so that we all rise as one as soon
as he twitches his eyebrows.
Now we must do our best, for this is the St Magnus Festival Chorus.
We've practised for nearly five months and our reputation rests on this
live performance. Let's hope that this year it's especially good. The
only problem is that we only have this one night, so we've got to get it
right. And this time I think there won't be a dry eye in the house.