I did have a very interesting freelance commission which I completed last week. One of my fellow altos in the choir wanted me to arrange Brandenburg 4 for a different group of instruments. The original group involves (in case you don't know - I didn't, until I looked it up) two flutes, a solo violin, a full string section (two violin parts, viola, cello and double bass) and continuo (i.e. harpsichord). The required group was: two flutes, two cellos and one harpsichord. Well, I did it, but to say that it took an awful lot longer than I'd anticipated is putting it mildly! And it wasn't the arranging itself that was time-consuming; it was inputting the notes of the original score in order to be able to rearrange them. It's all Bach's fault - there are so MANY notes! I'll be very interested to hear how they get on with the result. I did warn them that the harpsichordist would need to be super-human!
We had a really nice choir gig in Ashton a couple of weeks ago, too - it went really well, and the audience loved it. I was particularly delighted that "We'll Gather Lilacs" and "The Bare Necessities" had been restored to the programme. I know a few choir members disagreed, but I suspect they weren't at the Harpurhey concert at which we first performed these songs, and therefore didn't see how much the audience liked them. At Ashton, there was an old man sitting near the front - right behind the mayor - and he seemed to be enjoying the whole concert, but when it got to "We'll Gather Lilacs" he was mouthing the words, and he had a... well, I was about to say that he had a smile on his face, but he did throughout... but it was a different TYPE of smile in "We'll Gather Lilacs". I can't find the words to describe it, but I do know that I sang that whole song with tears in my eyes due to seeing that smile. (And I do hope that next time we do an a cappella concert, whoever plans the programme remembers what sort of audience we tend to get, and includes something similar again.)
While we were in Ashton, by the way, Alison and I were fascinated by the small bronze (I think) sculptures that were dotted around the pedestrianised area of the town centre. We were frustrated that there was no visible information about them (such as the title or the name of the sculptor), though. Most of the statues (of which there were five or six) were of Victorian-type children, but my favourite was this miner:
Oh, and last Saturday I went to the other side of Bury (ANOTHER day involving six buses!) to sing in a Brahms Requiem workshop with Bury Choral Society. Maggie was a guest vocal coach for the day, and did her usual stuff (which went down very well), and then we sang about half the Requiem. I was a little disappointed not to be able to do all of it (it's been a few years!), especially as we're no longer performing it later this year as planned. But I really enjoyed the bits we DID do, and oddly enough it's the 4th movement I've had on the brain since - normally I dislike that movement compared to the others, finding it a bit boring, but I enjoyed it this time.
Currently in our Wednesday rehearsals we're doing some a cappella things which we're recording soon but which I didn't previously know at all: Elgar's The Shower and Love's Tempest, and Vaughan Williams' Valiant for Truth. I must say I much prefer the Vaughan Williams to the two Elgar things, which are not the most exciting songs ever - it starts with an alto tune, and has a few more further in, and there's a fabulous trumpety bit at the end. But also (and I suspect I'm in a minority here!) there are quite a few aspects of the words which make me think of the last Harry Potter book. Needless to say it was the line "my marks and scars I carry with me" that started me off on this train of thought, but then it wouldn't go away.
We're also doing the usual opera choruses in preparation for our last concert of the season. Well, I say "the usual", but it's actually a few years since we've done any of this stuff. I found that I still remember Brindisi (well, the alto part, at least) from memory, but that's probably because most of it is on the same note. And Fuoco di Gioia is just as entertaining as ever!
Another thing that's taken up a lot of my time recently (albeit very enjoyably) is birthday presents. Due to extreme being-broke-ness, I haven't been able to buy anything for anyone for the past three years... but it occurred to me, late last year, that there IS something I can make for people - at no cost to me other than time - which most of them seem to quite like. I do an a cappella vocal arrangement of (ideally) a song I know they like, or (if I don't know such a song) a song that is relevant to them in some way, and use the very wonderful FourTrack app on my iPhone to record myself singing all the parts. (I can have more than four parts - and I usually do - because it even has a bounce function.) I love doing this, but several friends have had birthdays in the past week, so I've spent more time at it than usual. And tonight I need to do "How High the Moon" (hence the title of this post). Can't wait!
(If you're wondering how I can afford an iPhone, the answer is that I couldn't if I'd had to actually buy it, but I got it free with my contract. Which is just as well, because I'm not sure how I managed to live without it.)
I hope some of you made it to a Whit Friday event. (If not, next year's date is 17th June 2011 - put it in your diary now!) I went to Delph with my family - not been there for quite some time (well, I have, but not on Whit Friday), but we fancied a change from Friezland. I bumped into the wonderful Richard Charles, who's a percussionist I've worked with in the past several times, but other than him, I didn't see anyone else I knew (at least, not to talk to). Friezland tends to be where the Wardle people congregate, and most of my Whit Friday acquaintances are Wardle people. We saw some great bands, though - not all the top bands were out this year, but we did see Brighouse & Rastrick in their distinctive purple tunics, and Boobs and Brass (the all-female brass band in their pink uniforms, who march to Here Come The Girls). The crowd's favourite, though, was the St Etienne Band, who dressed as England football fans (there's a photo of them here if you scroll down a bit) and marched to Three Lions. We have been unable to find out where they're from - we ASSUME France, from the name, but we have no evidence for this (although my mum insist that they LOOKED French!) - and in any case, why would a French band dress as they did?
(Whit Friday results, for those who are interested, are mostly now online - Saddleworth results and Tameside results.)
You've probably all heard the Radio 3 broadcast of our Mahler 8 gig by now. It's only available on iPlayer until Monday night, but you can download it (helpfully split into separate tracks) from my mp3 page for the foreseeable future, and I'm delighted to see that several of you already have. (Also, does anyone have any thoughts about why we sound very quiet compared to choir 1? I can't believe the balance was like that in the hall, because I think it would have been noted and fixed in rehearsal if so. Maybe they had a faulty mic on our side? Although I did notice at the time that there was no mic at all anywhere near the altos (on either side) - there was one in front of the men, and one near the sops, and several near the kids, but nothing near the altos.)
The Mahler in Manchester cycle is almost over, and Mahler 9 was this week. Here's a Guardian review and one from the MEN. And, talking of reviews, I'd love to see the current Glyndebourne production of Billy Budd, conducted by our own musical director. Here's a five-star review from the Independent, and another from Classical Iconoclast. Oh, and also a brief Guardian review of the Götterdämmerung CD.
Now for a million more links!
If you're one of those who didn't listen to me when I recommended that you sign up to Spotify when they were allowing unlimited free access and has regretted it since, you will be pleased to hear that they've recently launched a new free version for which you don't need an invite code. It's not quite as good as the unlimited version, but the only difference is that you're restricted to 20 hours' use a month. So if you just want to try it to see whether you think it's worth paying for, now's your chance.
Another thing I told you about ages ago is the vuvuzela - a word which I would imagine you will hear a lot of in the next month, because the World Cup finally starts a week on Friday. Bryan Robson is the latest one to tell us that these instruments will cause problems.
Various interesting posts from the ever-reliable Tom Service in the Guardian: about the singing in the Free Church of Scotland; the fact that the "Mozart effect" is a load of rubbish; an obituary for Yvonne Loriod (Messiaen's widow); a defence of opera (in response to Robert Thicknesse's attack on it); Simon Rattle rehabilitating Sibelius in Germany (I hadn't realised he wasn't popular there!); and some news about Claudio Abbado (and the fact that Rattle's recent Matthew Passion is now online).
Also from the Guardian: Grayson Perry talks about arts funding under the new government; David Arnold writes about the value of the Ivor Novello Awards; Caroline Sullivan discusses how wrong it is that some people are upset that Lily Allen won several of these awards; Helienne Lindvall writes more on a similar theme; and Keith Stuart has a very interesting article about the music in Red Dead Redemption ( a recently-released - and very successful - video game).
From Classical Iconoclast: news of a downloadable, intriguing-sounding Mahler 8 performance, and the Berlin Phil's forthcoming Mahler cycle.
From Intermezzo: some photos (and intriguing reports) from the recent Classical Brit awards ceremony, and some news about outdoor opera which may be useful to those who are fans of that sort of thing.
From the LA Times, news of what the stage crew has to do to enable the climax of Götterdämmerung.
From Neil Gaiman va BoingBoing, a great story: Stravinsky was once arrested because of his arrangement of the American national anthem. (According to Wikipedia, his main crime was including a MAJOR SEVENTH CHORD. This delights me a great deal.)
From BBC News: very sadly, a young opera singer who was due to sing at the World Cup opening ceremony died this week from meningitis.
From the Independent, news that, in Greece, trombonists can retire at 50 because their job is "arduous and unhealthy".
Another practice tip from Stephen Hough: take your foot off the pedal.
Chris Rowbury (From the Front of the Choir) would like to know more about the pleasures of being in a choir.
Manchester-related news now: firstly, I knew it was too good to be true... the planned revamp of Victoria Station has been cancelled.
The city council has bitten the bullet and agreed to have big screens in the city centre showing World Cup matches - something they've avoided since Rangers Day. (Which reminds me - Manchester Confidential again had an anniversary post about this, and I was particularly amused by them asking Pat Karney whether we could declare 14th May an official holiday in Manchester in remembrance. His reaction is priceless!)
There are currently spring markets in the city centre until next Sunday - go and have a look, they sound nice.
Oh, and Roger Waters (of Pink Floyd) is bringing The Wall to Manchester.
And if you, like me, are heartily sick of non-Mancunians going on about our supposedly perennial rain, show them the map in this article. (And try not to think about the fact that it says we'll have a drought up here within weeks.)
Finally, some random stuff: via BoingBoing, news that the original Foucault's Pendulum broke recently! I've never seen this, although I've wanted to for a long time. In fact, on the one occasion on which I had a whole day to spend in Paris, over twenty years ago, I dragged a group of year 11 schoolkids right across Paris to see it, only to find that the museum was closed on Mondays, and that was the only day we were there. Typical.
If you're not watching Spartacus: Blood and Sand on Bravo, you should.... if, that is, you like the sound of something that's "possibly the lustiest, goriest, most wilfully red-blooded drama series the law and human decency will allow". More details from Charlie Brooker in the Guardian. (Warning: although the photo on the linked page is fine, the text is probably NSFW.) It's on at 10pm on Tuesdays, and it started this week, but if you missed the first episode it's repeated tomorrow (Sunday) night at 11pm.
Martin Gardner was a hero of mine when I was younger - I had all his books, and probably still do somewhere - so I was quite saddened to learn that he died last weekend.
The fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square is to have a giant ship in a bottle - the Victory, in fact. I'd love to see that!
Did you watch the Lost finale? If you did, but aren't entirely sure what happened despite this, here's a simple explanation that even I can understand, along with an argument to put to all those people who think they all died in the first episode, and answers to a few other questions.
I'm sure you'll be hearing lots more from me about the World Cup in the next few weeks, but in the meantime, have a look at this Spanish World Cup calendar. I haven't entirely worked out how it works, but I think it looks fabulous!
I love these photos (from the ever-wonderful Big Picture) of Argentina's bicentennial. Particularly the crowd in front of the opera house, and the harp orchestra.
But my current favourite picture is this one from NASA's Astronomy Picture of the Day, showing a starry night sky over Iguaçu Falls. These falls are second only to Cape Horn on my list of "places I'd most like to visit". But I don't think I've seen a photo of them at night before. Beautiful.
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