Popstar to Operastar

Yes, I know that title should be split into more than three words, but that's how ITV write it. Still, I'm fascinated by this programme. It was on ITV1 last night - if you missed it, you can watch it online via the link above, or you can wait till Wednesday, when it's repeated on ITV2 at 6.30. Via Intermezzo, there's a fairly balanced story in Wales Online about it.

My only real objection to it is that they give the impression that Katherine Jenkins is an opera star, although she's never actually been in an opera. (To be fair, I believe that she herself doesn't use this term - she refers to herself as a "classical singer".) And so far they haven't made clear that being an opera star involves more than just singing one aria, although there's only been one episode so far - maybe they'll make them do a whole opera in the finale, although I doubt they'll make them do eight performances of it in a week!

I'm supporting the lovely Danny McFly (well, his actual name is Danny Jones) because I have always loved McFly, as anyone who knows me well will know. I suspect that if it's entirely down to a public vote, he'll win even if he's rubbish, because he's probably got more fans than all the others combined. But I'd love it if he actually was the best one. He wasn't the best last night - he was a bit flat, and wasn't the most powerful singer, although he got better during his song (he did La Donna è Mobile). But I'm confident he will improve. He's a fabulous MUSICIAN, but this is a long way out of his comfort zone.

I expected the best singer to be Marcella Detroit, because I've always been very impressed with her voice in pop. She can sing RIDICULOUSLY high - for example, the last minute of Stay (probably their most famous song - the highest note she sings there is a top F (the one above the stave!)), or the beginning (and chorus) of You're History, which is in G, so she repeatedly gets the top B in the choruses, and I think she gets a high G (above the top B!) right near the end. I'll be amazed if they don't give her the Queen of the Night aria at some point. Last night, though, she did Casta Diva, and she did it pretty well.

The best PERFORMANCE, though, was (in my opinion) from Alex James. He was probably the weakest singer (in his defence, unlike all the others he never HAS been a singer, even in pop - he's a bass player!) but he sang his aria (Largo al factotum) very competently - he didn't stumble over the words, and it was in tune, but most importantly he COMMUNICATED. He was obviously having a great time, and I don't think he deserved to be voted out.

Several of the other singers were pretty good, and I think it'll be very interesting to see who improves the most. The one thing that baffled me, though, was that they gave Darius whatsisname - who has a lower voice than most of them - Nessun Dorma, but transposed it down a fifth! Why on earth didn't they just give him a different song? All the others had one that was appropriate for their range. Bizarre.

Choir, in case you're wondering, is making me grumpy at the moment, so I'd better not write much about it. We're doing Mahler 2 in a couple of weeks, which I was really looking forward to until it was announced that we're not doing it from memory after all, which means it won't be as good as last time. Such a pity. And we're also doing a world premiere of a thing by Colin Matthews, which isn't my favourite piece EVER but isn't actually that bad (although there are, obviously, no actual TUNES) - there are three or four bars I really like (not consecutive ones though!) What's making me grumpy with THAT is that although it's quite difficult and needs everyone to work at their own part, there are a few people who haven't, so we're doing more group notebashing than we should need to. I know that I'm lucky (in one way, at least) to be currently unemployed, so I do have time to practise - and I've spent quite a while on the Matthews. And I do understand that there are some people who don't currently have time to look at music outside rehearsals. But there are things that they could do DURING THE REHEARSAL to help themselves. For example, at the first rehearsal, a few people gasped in horror when they reached page 32 and realised - apparently for the first time - that there's a second evil triplet crotchet scale bit. Now, this music had been emailed to people a few days earlier so they could look at it, but I know not everyone had time to check their email. But even so, the fact that anyone could get to a point thirty minutes before the end of the rehearsal without AT ANY STAGE having at least glanced all the way through the score - that's what annoyed me. Even the busiest of people could take the time DURING THE REHEARSAL to flip through the score and mark which line they're singing (this isn't actually really necessary in this piece because the lines are in the same position on each page, but you'd have to look through it to know that!)

Anyway, I'll shut up about that now. I have a load of links!

Vuvuzela update: now the church is getting involved.

Via ChoralNet, a blog post about the top ten changes in classical music over the past decade. Some surprising inclusions - Maestro was the one that raised my eyebrows the most, I think.

I hadn't realised that Mahler used to conduct the New York Phil, but this Guardian article about his newest replacement sets me straight.

Michael Kennedy, in the Spectator, writes about Mahler's popularity.

Tom Service, in the Guardian, writes about Mahler too in rather more detail, and follows this up with a lot of YouTube links to Mahler performances.

I mentioned complaints choirs ages ago - now the Guardian has an article about them.

Via A Cappella News, an intriguing post by David Griggs-Janower that discusses possible reasons for the scarcity of tenors. He makes a lot of sense.

A Guardian article about a live music bill which seeks to "exempt small venues from the absurdities of the Licensing Act". There's a link to a petition you can sign.

A great article by Eric Siblin in the Guardian about Bach's cello suites.

Some sad news from Classical Iconoclast - apparently the V&A museum is closing its musical instrument gallery, so if you're in London any time soon, make sure you go and see it while you still can. (A few years ago, I spent a slightly insane weekend visiting ALL the major London museums and art galleries, spending no more than a couple of hours in each. I'd never been in the V&A before that weekend, and I wasn't particularly impressed with it, but the musical instrument section is the one bit of it I remember. To be fair, that's possibly because it's the only section in which I looked properly at every exhibit, but it was still good!)

Tom Service points out that the Festival of British Youth Orchestras is about to be lost unless someone finds some money to fund it.

Via A Cappella News, there's been an A Cappella Festival in London for the last few days. I would have loved to have gone to that, but even if I'd had the money, I'm a bit surprised not to have seen it advertised anywhere until it was too late! Either their marketing team needs replacing, or there are some obvious places I'm missing on my obsessive online faffing. (Yes, I know Facebook is one of them. That's deliberate.)

On the Radio 3 blog, there's a series of posts from the BBC Symphony Orchestra about their current Henze project. The introductory post is here, but the one I found most interesting is the one about a string sectional.

Another great post by Chris Rowbury at From the Front of the Choir, this time about the dangers of complacency. This should be required reading for all choral singers, particularly before rehearsing Messiah.

Remember the X Factor v Rage Against the Machine chart battle? Apparently the next one will be the Smiths v Girls Aloud.

Bit belatedly, a great story about some guys who decided to launch their Christmas tree into orbit. Using 32 model rocket engines.

They're staging a crucifixion in Trafalgar Square this Easter.

For Mancunians, a summary of the most important local news stories of each year of the last decade. I'd forgotten some of these were so recent; they seem much longer ago!

A Manchester Evening News article about All Day Pyjama Syndrome. It seems that a doctor’s surgery in Wythenshawe has announced that patients will not be seen by the doctor or allowed access to the surgery if they attend in pyjamas. I hadn't realised this was so prevalent (although I've been baffled for YEARS about the other thing he mentions, i.e. girls going out with no coats etc.) - has anyone else encountered examples of it?

Here are some great photos of Manchester from above, in the snow.

And Manchester Confidential goes one better and brings us photos of rude snowmen in Manchester!

An interesting BBC News article about how other countries cope with lots of snow.

And finally, the Big Picture brings us a gorgeous selection of photos themed Fire and Ice.

Vamp Till Ready

I've had all sorts of links I've been holding back until I'd finished my musical terminology series (I didn't want to clutter those posts with anything unrelated) so I thought I'd get them out now. We were supposed to be rehearsing Mahler 2 tonight, but we didn't, because the rehearsal was cancelled due to the weather - the first time I can EVER remember that happening. (Even my cats are avoiding the snow - they insist that I open the door, and when I eventually give in, they stand there for a minute before retreating to the top of the settee, having presumably realised that the snow in the back garden is actually taller than they are!) Hopefully choir members will have spent the time memorising their parts - if you haven't started yet, remember that I've put up lots of resources to help you.

The title of this post is also the title of my new website, through which I am selling musical arrangements and other services. I added it to the sidebar a few days ago, but I haven't drawn your attention to it till now. I'd be really grateful if you could all have a look to see whether there's anything on there that might be useful to you, and also forward it to anyone you know who might be interested. If I managed to get ten commissions a month, that would pay my bills - anything more than that would mean I could start clearing my mortgage arrears. I've already got one (from a reader of this blog), so I'm hoping things will stay on track! Thank you in advance.

(For those who have asked about my repossession situation, here's where things are up to: the bank agreed to put it on hold for thirty days while I submitted a revised repayment proposal. The thirty days are up tomorrow, but they haven't responded to the proposal yet. Fingers crossed. In the meantime, all I can do is keep trying to earn money.)

Anyway, some links. The Guardian's guide to What to See in 2010 has our Mahler series as its top classical pick, and rightly so!

BBC Music Magazine interviewed John Rutter about Christmas.

Apparently O Fortuna is the most-played classical track of the past 75 years. The full list is here. I was quite excited when I thought it was our recording of The Planets that's in the top ten, but it's the Loughran one (I have that on vinyl - one of the first records I ever owned!)

BBC News had an intriguing story about how German researchers have managed to help some tinnitus sufferers by altering music to remove notes at certain frequencies. More on the same story at BoingBoing.

The current issue of BBC Music Magazine has Ed Gardner on the cover.

A thought-provoking article from the Times about why there is still a demand for audio cassettes.

Via ChoralNet, a collection of silly classical music stories of 2009 from the Seattle Times. Headline story: The baritone who forgot his pants.

A lovely post from Tom Service about connections between music and landscape, including some intriguing comments from our own music director about Elgar.

I like this idea: a nursing college is employing a composer in residence. (The RNCM, by the way, is heavily involved in Music for Health - I was fascinated to learn about this when I was preparing for one of my interviews there (for all the good it did me!))

There was a Radio 4 programme the other day called Jane Austen's iPod. I haven't listened to it yet, but it looks fascinating, and it's on iPlayer until Saturday morning.

I had high hopes of another R4 programme, The Vox Project, but I listened to the first part (of three) and wasn't particularly excited. YMMV.

The Telegraph has a list of the top ten guitar solos. Can't say I agree with all of them, but several are truly great.

Classical Iconoclast reports that Daniel Barenboim will be conducting the Elgar Cello Concerto this year. Big news!

There's a fascinating post about Purcell on the Radio 3 blog. (By "fascinating" I mean "I bet you will enjoy reading it even if you think you don't like Purcell.")

From the BBC Music blog, a very long list of the top albums of 2009, from many different genres.

Yet another in a series of wonderful posts on the BBC SSO blog: this one is about performing with and without amplification.

I've often linked to posts on Chris Rowbury's blog, From the Front of the Choir. The other day I was looking through the rest of his website, and thought some of you might be interested in the singing workshops that he runs. They look great fun, and are all over the country. All the music is taught by ear, and no previous experience is necessary.

It's a bit late now, but I was interested to see that the BBC published a guide to going to church (for people who haven't been before but wanted to go at Christmas).

I know lots of you will be aware of the NORAD Santa Tracker - CNN tells us how it came about. A really delightful story!

The ever-reliable Big Picture had some great Christmas photos and even better New Year ones.

Oh, and the Trafalgar Square fountains have frozen! I don't suppose that's all that rare, but I've never seen a picture of it before. (I was amused, by the way, by the alert categories on The Little Page of Transport Chaos, although of course it's entirely London-centric. When I first saw it, this afternoon, the level was "pandemonium" - it seems to have calmed down since!)

The MEN has a great selection of snowman pictures. (Barbara sent me one earlier, built by her friend's son, but it's a bit rude!)

Typically, though, it was in the Halifax Courier that I read about the new Legoland Discovery Centre in Manchester. (That's the one for which they were auditioning Lego builders.)

Manchester Confidential has a feature about the best and worst Manchester food and drink phenomena of the past decade.

Also via Manchester Confidential, a comparison of the new tallest building in the world (Burj Dubai) with the Beetham Tower. It is NEARLY FIVE TIMES AS TALL. I can't even contemplate that!

The Manchester City Council website finally has some definite official info about what will happen to the libraries while the Central Library is being refurbished.

And finally, for those of you who haven't embraced Twitter yet - or, possibly more importantly, those who have but often have to defend themselves to people! - there's a very good article in the New York Times explaining why Twitter is here to stay.

12 days of musical terminology, day 12 - fugue

This is the last post in this series, which seems to have gone down like a lead balloon - oh well. I'm hoping that maybe SOME people will find these posts useful and/or interesting, but that they just don't read blogs very often and will discover this later. (If there's anyone reading who HAS enjoyed any of this, please could you comment and let me know? It'd do wonders for my self-esteem!)

I planned all along that my last topic would be fugue. It comes up all the time in choir rehearsals - so much so that I'm sure most people have at least a vague idea what it is. But there are all sorts of related details that you might not know.

If you're a choral singer, I'm willing to bet that your main understanding of the word fugue is "the hard bit". Personally I tend to think of the fugue as "the clever bit". Any good fugue is definitely clever, but that unfortunately often results in a high level of difficulty!

The height of popularity for fugues was the baroque period - Bach, in particular, is renowned for (amongst other things) being the king of the fugue. No-one else even comes close. He was so good that he could compose fugues on the spot from any given theme - you'll understand how difficult this was when I've explained what a fugue involves. (Mozart could apparently do this too, but Bach did it first!) There's a famous book called Godel, Escher, Bach (by Douglas R Hofstadter) which is well worth a read. I have a copy which I must reread at some point - it's been years since I did - but what I remember of it is as follows: 1. It is totally fascinating. 2. Lots of it will make your head ache because you'll be thinking too much. 3. You will fully appreciate what an amazing musician Bach was. 4. You will know everything there is to know about fugues. It's a long book, but well worth the read.

Fugues have remained fairly popular ever since baroque times, though - I presume because composers like to show off! Mozart wrote lots of them (there are a couple in his Requiem); Mendelssohn had a couple in Lobgesang (and his other symphonies too); Brahms has some in his German Requiem; Haydn has some in The Creation; there are some in Beethoven 9; there are several in Verdi's Requiem.

Anyway, the obvious omission to my list of familiar fugues is Handel, who uses fugues all over the place, including several times in Messiah. That's because I'm going to use the Amen Fugue for my examples - but first, let me explain the technical terms. The Wikipedia article does this in great detail, so I'll try to give you a simpler version.

The fugue structure has several things in common with sonata form, although fugue is earlier and more complex. The main similarity is that both forms rely heavily on key contrasts. (If you've read yesterday's entry, you will spot the other similarities, so I won't bother pointing them out.) Anyway, a fugue is a contrapuntal composition for a particular number of parts. In a fugue, the parts are known as "voices" even if it's an instrumental piece. (Oh, and "contrapuntal" is the adjective that comes from "counterpoint", which is defined in my music dictionary as "the ability, unique to music, to say two things at once comprehensibly". Think of it as "two different tunes going on at the same time".) A fugue is kind of an advanced version of a canon - the difference is that in a canon, nothing happens that's not the original tune in the original key.

Here's the start of the Amen Fugue (I missed out the words etc. to save time - you can guess what they are!):



This section of the fugue is called the exposition. Each voice in turn (starting with the basses in this example) enters with a statement of the fugue subject (i.e. the main tune). Usually a fugue subject is fairly short - much shorter than a sonata form subject - because the longer the subject, the more difficult it is to write the fugue. The most common length is four bars - Handel is slightly wacky here by writing a five-bar subject!

The voices don't all sing the subject in the same key, though - they imitate each other without copying exactly. The most common way to do this is how Handel does it here: the basses sing their entry in D major (the tonic key), then the tenors do it in A major (the dominant - this is called the answer), then the altos come back in D major (an octave higher than the basses, but in the tonic key => subject) and the sopranos finish the exposition by entering in A major, an octave above the tenors (answer). Fugues from later periods stick to the imitative entry idea but tend to ignore the key relations a bit more. For example, Mozart (in his Requiem) does have at least one fugue with the traditional tonic/dominant pattern (Quam Olim Abrahe) but he also has several other patterns, e.g. Ne absorbeat eas Tartarus, which has the voices entering on G, C, A and D respectively.

Before we proceed to the next bit, notice what each voice does AFTER its first five bars, when it no longer has the subject. It doesn't just stop singing - it has various fragments that couldn't be considered as proper tunes, but fit together. These fragments do get repeated (in the relevant keys) across the different voices. In some fugues, rather than just fragments, there is a counter-subject, i.e. another proper tune that fits with the first one. (It's only called a counter-subject if it comes back when the subject does.)

After the exposition (i.e. when all the voices have performed the subject), there will usually be an episode, in which the composer develops the material from the exposition. (I have heard this referred to as "noodling".) This leads to another entry (or series of entries) of the subject, and so on until the end of the piece - entries and episodes alternate. One function of the episodes, other than to make the whole piece more interesting, is to modulate into different keys. (The tonic/dominant alternation of subject entries is not usually strictly maintained after the exposition - if the fugue has reached a particularly remote key, this would make things unnecessarily difficult.) By the final entry, though, the music must return to the tonic.

There are many, many other details and technical terms associated with fugues - I've only mentioned the main ones. (Read the Wikipedia article if you want to know the others.) However, I do want to mention stretto. This is the fugue's equivalent of hemiola - it speeds things up (figuratively) and adds excitement, and is therefore most often used towards the end of a piece. Stretto is when the voices enter one at a time with their subjects and answers, but they don't wait for each other to finish - they overlap, so that the answer starts while the subject is still in progress, etc. For example, this bit:



Sorry it's a bit blurry, but hopefully you get the idea. The voices enter in the order soprano/tenor/alto/bass, one beat apart. Each voice sings the first five notes of the subject exactly, in A major followed by E minor alternately. There are several other strettos (I suppose really it should be "stretti") in the Amen Fugue - see if you can find them! Once you're aware of them, they are fairly obvious.

My favourite fugue, though, has always been the one at the end of The Young Person's Guide To The Orchestra, although I admit that the bit I really like in that is the brass section entry near the end, which isn't part of the fugue at all! (The clip is less than three minutes long - I don't know why they've put two minutes of silence on the end...) Enjoy :-)

12 days of musical terminology, day 11 - recapitulation

Sorry this is a bit late. (I started it before midnight but there was no way I was ever going to finish in time!) I decided before I started this series which topics I wanted to include - in fact, there were quite a few more than twelve on my initial list, and it took me a while to whittle them down. So I'm positive I want to talk about today's topic, but (unhelpfully) I've been trying for the past half hour to think of examples of it in actual choral works! I had a few in mind, but when I looked them up, they didn't illustrate things quite as well as I'd remembered. Anyway, I do know which piece it was that made me think of including it, so I'll use that.

The word recapitulation is, of course, used in everyday (non-musical) life, although it's more common in its abbreviated form ("recap"). In music, it actually has more or less the same meaning, but I need to explain the background a bit before I get to that.

Strictly, a musical recapitulation is part of a piece of music that's written in sonata form. Sonata Form is a type of musical structure (or “form”) often used in the first movement of a sonata, symphony or concerto in the Classical period (Mozart, Haydn etc.). It's also used in other movements, other types of work and later periods. Key relationships are the basis of sonata form - you need to know what the tonic and dominant keys are (if the tonic key is minor, the relative major is often used in place of the dominant). In general, the tonic key is the key of the whole piece. For example, in Mozart's Symphony no. 40 in G minor, whose first movement is in sonata form, the tonic key is G minor. The dominant would be D, but because the tonic is a minor key, its relative major - i.e. B flat major - is used instead of the dominant.)

Sonata form has 4 sections: exposition, development, recapitulation and coda. I will list the traditional features of each, but it goes without saying that there are many, many variations to these, particularly in later works.

1. Exposition

• 1st subject (i.e. tune) in tonic key
• 2nd subject in dominant (or relative major) key
• Sometimes there are other subjects (= tunes) as well
• Often subjects are repeated
• The exposition section often ends at the first repeat mark

2. Development

Usually (but not always) this starts with 1st subject in dominant (or relative major) key. Then “plays around” with both subjects, usually modulating through lots of new keys. The development section is usually quite long. Often there will be a dominant pedal towards the end of it, preparing for the recapitulation.

3. Recapitulation

• 1st subject returns in tonic key (it will have been heard in various forms during the development section, but its return in the tonic key signals the recapitulation).
• 2nd subject returns in tonic key (note that in the exposition section, the 2nd subject was in the dominant or relative major key).

4. Coda

This is the end bit. Sometimes it's very short, sometimes it's so long it’s almost a second Development section. In a concerto, the coda usually starts after the cadenza.


Even though there are very few well-known choral works written in actual sonata form (i.e. I can't currently think of any!), the concepts are used in many pieces, particularly those that use classical styles even though they were written during the romantic period. The obvious example is Mendelssohn, who is well-known for reviving interest in Bach's music (which, of course, predates sonata form), but also had lots of classical characteristics in his work. In Lobgesang (Symphony no. 2, which we sang in the summer), my favourite movement (Die Nacht ist Vergangen) has some similarities with sonata form, and it's that movement that made me think of writing about recapitulations.

I know that many of you will have your own copy of the score, but for those who don't, I'll include a few brief examples to show you what I'm talking about. It's the movement that starts with the joyous intro riff (that was likened at one point to a Highland fling!):



The 1st subject (at least, that's what I'm calling it) enters almost immediately. The brass have it, then the tenors and basses, and finally the sopranos:



Shortly afterwards, we get what I'm calling the 2nd subject:



If this movement really was in sonata form, there would probably be a repeat mark at this point to show the end of the exposition, and then the development section would start. However, it's NOT in sonata form, and at this point Mendelssohn brings in a 3rd subject:



He plays around with this for quite a while, and it feels a little bit like a development section (except that it isn't a real one, because it doesn't include the 1st and 2nd subjects). However, after a while we get something that initially looks like ANOTHER new subject... except that it's actually too similar to the 2nd subject to be described as totally new.



A few bars after this not-quite-2nd-subject returns, there's a huge crescendo, and the sopranos go up a chromatic scale until they culminate in two whole bars singing A. At this point - HURRAH! Recapitulation! (I used to always teach my pupils that Recapitulation = HURRAH! because that's exactly the feeling it engenders.) The tenors come blazing in with a fortissimo statement of the 1st subject, in the tonic key of D major. To reinforce it, the intro figure is played underneath - the first time this figure has been heard for quite some time.

We don't quite get all the rest of the sonata form bits - a proper recapitulation would have the 2nd subject in the tonic key at this point, and we don't here - but we DO get a bit where the upper three parts sing the RHYTHM of the 2nd subject together, followed by a coda-type section based on the 3rd subject. Then we get a proper coda, in which the sops sing the 1st subject twice (with the intro figure returning in the orchestra in between - again, this stopped when the 1st subject did), and there are a few more brief recaps of the start of the 1st subject, as the movement gradually fades towards its end.

That was much longer than I intended (why do I always do this to myself?!? I only really wanted to explain what a recapitulation feels like (i.e. HURRAH!) That way, when you sing one, you'll be aware that if you have the tune at that point, you are IMPORTANT! It feels better that way :-)

12 days of musical terminology, day 10 - whole tone scale

The whole tone scale is to melody what the diminished chord is to harmony. (I only just realised this, and I'm quite proud of the analogy!) You will recall that the diminished chord creates a sense of uncertainty, because all the notes are the same distance apart from each other, so it sounds the same whatever the root note is, and can resolve in many different ways. The whole tone scale creates a sense of melodic uncertainty, for similar reasons: it sounds the same whichever note you start on, because all the notes are the same distance apart.

It tends to be most used in modern music (Debussy, Messiaen, Scriabin etc.), and I can't think of a single choral work that uses an ENTIRE whole tone scale (although I'm sure there is one). However, there are often bits in choral parts that include excerpts from the whole tone scale, which is why it gets mentioned in rehearsals.

The Wikipedia article shows you what the two whole tone scales look like. (There are only two different ones.) To play one on a piano, start on any note, and count two keys to the right (including both black and white keys, but not counting the key you start on). Play the new note, and repeat. The seventh note you play will be an octave above the first one.

The most famous example of a whole tone scale is probably the intro to Stevie Wonder's You are the Sunshine of my Life. There's an entire whole tone scale (actually more than a whole octave - it spans a tenth) in the third and fourth bars, repeated in the seventh and eighth bars. It's even harmonised with ANOTHER whole tone scale (a major third below). It's a very distinctive sound which I'm sure you'll recognise immediately.

If you're singing an excerpt from a whole tone scale, you need to bear in mind that whole tones are usually slightly wider than you think. So if your phrase goes up, be careful not to sing flat, and if your phrase goes down, be careful not to sing sharp.

12 days of musical terminology, day 9 - false relation

This one doesn't come up all that often when we're singing orchestral stuff, but it's very common when we're doing Renaissance a cappella stuff (e.g. Tallis, Byrd, Palestrina). It sounds a bit jarring to the modern ear - so much so that if you're not aware of it, you may well think someone is singing the wrong note.

A false relation is a harmonic thing, and it's when there are two consecutive (or very nearby) notes in different voice parts, and those notes have the same letter name but different accidentals. For example, a B flat in the bass part followed immediately by a B natural in the tenor part. (it can also refer to different notes in the same chord, but consecutive chords are more common.)

The Wikipedia article gives an example from Byrd's Ave Verum Corpus. A more familiar one, though, might be the Mozart version. In the third bar of the clip below, you can see the false relation in the bass and tenor parts exactly as described in the paragraph above.

12 days of musical terminology, day 8 - antiphonal

Another quick one today (happy new year, by the way!)

Antiphonal originally had a more specific meaning, but when the term is used during our choir rehearsals these days, it refers to music in which the choir is divided into two halves which sing in turn. Usually the two halves consist of an SATB choir 1 and an SATB choir 2, but there are other possibilities - for example, in my a cappella arrangement of I Was Glad, which is written for SSAATB, the antiphonal section in the middle ended up as S1 A1 T in one half and S2 A2 B in the other). (You can hear the original version (including the usually-omitted Vivat bit, because the Queen was there, but annoyingly missing the start of the intro) performed at St Paul's for the Queen's Golden Jubilee here. The main antiphonal bit I'm thinking of - starting with the word "Jerusalem" - is at about 1:50, but the bit just before is actually antiphonal too. It's just not as obvious, because it's not choir 1 vs choir 2.)

Other famous antiphonal bits... let's see. There's lots of it in Belshazzar's Feast - so much, in fact, that I've been really annoyed when we've performed it WITHOUT sitting in two choirs (luckily we HAVE sat in two choirs the last few times, so I was happy). The best bit is the a cappella "Trumpeters and Pipers" section (starts at about 6:50 on the video). There's also lots in Gerontius, particularly during the big C major chorus. Komm, Jesu, Komm is a great example too. There are many more - I'm sure you can think of lots.

It's believed that this style (sometimes known as the Venetian polychoral style) originated at St Mark's in Venice, where the two choir lofts were so far apart that there was a sound delay between them. Rather than try (and fail) to get the two sides to sing together, composers took advantage of the separation. (By the way, in cathedrals and large churches, where the two choirs sit on opposite sides, traditionally choir 1 is called decani and choir 2 is cantoris.)

12 days of musical terminology, day 7 - melisma

Very brief post today, because it's New Year's Eve and I need to devote myself to distractions (I get very fed up on New Year's Eve if I allow myself to think about it!)

Melisma is very easy to explain (hence choosing it for today), and it's used constantly in choir rehearsals - so much so that most people must know what it means, but I always wonder whether there might be a few people who don't, and don't dare ask. So this is for those people.

In its simplest (and most commonly used) sense, it just means that a particular syllable has more than one note sung to it. For example, the start of "Where is love?" from Oliver - there are five notes on the word "where", so that's a melisma. The Wikipedia article has a much more thorough explanation (and a Messiah example, which is good because it saves me having to write one out).

12 days of musical terminology, day 6 - Neapolitan 6th chords

I've explained these before (quite a while ago), so some of this might sound familiar if you're a long-time reader...

The Neapolitan 6th chord is my very favourite chord (closely followed by "chord iii", but I'll explain that one another time). I've loved it ever since I first heard it (long before I found what it was called). I even attended a fascinating lecture about it at an Open University summer school several years ago. (The lecture covered the various types of augmented sixth chords (French, German and Italian sixths) as well, but the Neapolitan is better than all of them!)

So, what is a Neapolitan 6th? I'll try to explain as clearly as possible, because once you know what they are, you'll spot them throughout the repertoire. They're most common in baroque music, although they aren't restricted to that period - there are several in Gerontius, for example. They occur more often when the music is in a minor key than major, but either is possible. Now, in any key, you can have a chord based on any note of the scale. (I presume that most of you know that a "normal" chord on any given note consists of the note itself plus the notes a third and a fifth higher within the scale - so that the chord of C major would be C, E and G, but the chord of C minor would be C, E flat and G, because in C minor every E is an E flat. ... If you didn't already know this bit, I realise it's a bit confusing, but at the moment my target audience is people who *do* already understand how chords are usually formed, so if this is totally new to you, I'm sorry!)

Now, in the key of E minor, the scale goes: E, F sharp, G, A, B, C, D sharp, E. That's the harmonic minor scale (as opposed to the melodic minor), and if you've ever wondered why it's called that, it's because these are the notes used in the harmony - as follows: chord 1 (the tonic chord) is the chord of E minor (E, G, B). Chord 2 is actually a diminished chord (F sharp, A, C). Chord 3 is G major (G, B, D). Chord 4 (the subdominant) is A minor (A, C, E). Chord 5 (the dominant) is B major (B, D sharp, F sharp). Et cetera. (The "dominant seventh" chord - very common, and I'm sure you've all heard of it - would be B, D sharp, F sharp and A... why 7th? Because the A is a seventh above the B.) (If you're wondering why some notes are sharp and others are natural, go back and look at the E minor scale - that's why.) (If you're wondering why there's a D in chord 3 but a D sharp everywhere else, that's a good question - a simplified answer is that if chord 3 had a D sharp in it, it would be an augmented chord, which isn't often used in traditional harmony. Or, put another way... the harmony works better if chord 3 is a major chord. Not a very satisfying answer but it's as good as you're going to get for the moment!)

Now, before I explain what the Neapolitan 6th chord is, let me explain what it ISN'T. It isn't a chord based on the 6th note of the scale - it's called "6th" for a different reason. (It's called Neapolitan because it was popular with a Neapolitan group of composers.) So what is it? Well, to make a Neapolitan 6th chord, here's what you do: find the 2nd note of the scale (so in E minor that would be F sharp). Flatten it by a semitone (so it becomes F natural). Form a major chord based on that note (in this case, F major (F, A, C)). This chord is sometimes called a Neapolitan chord. However, it is hardly ever used in that form - invariably it appears as a first inversion chord, which means that although it does consist of F, A and C, it doesn't have the F at the bottom of the bass (which is called "root position"), it has the A instead. (If the C was at the bottom it would be a second inversion.) And it's the fact that it's used as a first inversion that gives it the name "6th" - the 6th is the interval between the A and the F.



Have a look at the example above (from the end of the "Have lightnings and thunders" double chorus of the St Matthew Passion - I was quite startled to put "matthew passion" into YouTube and find that the exact one-minute clip I wanted was the top result!). This section is in E minor. Look at the fifth bar. All the notes are either F, A or C, but the basses have A. That makes it a Neapolitan 6th. (Why is this chord usually used as a first inversion? Because the harmonic progression works better that way. I could explain why, but I've already gone on longer than I intended to, and I imagine some people's brains are hurting already.) Listen to the last few bars until the sound of the Neapolitan 6th sticks in your head - it's very distinctive. (It's at 1:02 in the video clip.)

And finally, one of my favourite pop songs, and not just because it includes a Neapolitan 6th. It's REM's Everybody Hurts. This song is in a major key, but the middle section (starting at about 2:22) is in the relative minor, and the Neapolitan comes at about 2:46. (I think it's probably a root position one rather than a 6th, because of what the bass does, but the sound of the chord is almost identical.) A great moment in the history of pop (and one of the best-ever videos, too - do watch it rather than just listening).

12 days of musical terminology, day 5 - diminished chords

I'm hoping this will take less time to explain than ornaments did!

Diminished chords are more common than most people think. They do sound a little other-worldly out of context, but they are very frequently used in harmonic progressions, for reasons I'll go into in a second. If you're not sure what a diminished chord sounds like, the intro to Ghost Town by the Specials (which got to number one in the UK charts in the summer of 1981 - wow, that makes me feel old!) is the best example I know. It has a series of six consecutive diminished chords, each a semitone higher than the previous one.

I'll explain what a diminished chord actually is before I tell you why it's useful. A proper diminished chord (strictly, I should specify that I'm talking about a "diminished seventh chord") has four notes in it, and each is a minor third above the one below. To create one on the piano, pick any note, count three keys to the right (not counting the one you started with, but counting both white and black keys) and play that note, then repeat. By the fourth repeat you should have reached the note an octave above your starting note. Here are all the diminished chords:



If you've ever done any instrumental exams from Grade 5 upwards, you'll probably be well aware that there are only actually THREE different diminished chords (the Grade 5+ ABRSM exams ask you to play diminished arpeggios). If you haven't, look at the chords above, and it will be obvious. The chords in the first line (C dim, C# dim and D dim) all have different notes, but the others all have the same notes as the ones in the first line, just in a different order. And unlike most other chords, which sound recognisably different if a different note is at the bottom, diminished chords have a sort of uncertain quality, which means that they sound more or less the same whichever note's on the bottom.

This uncertain quality means that composers often use this chord to suggest such concepts as change, distress, restlessness - and of course supernatural elements (as in Ghost Town). One of the reasons for the uncertain quality is that there are very many possible ways in which the chord's dissonances can resolve. In a piece that uses standard classical harmony, there are fewer options than you might expect when it comes to which chord sounds natural after the one you've just had. (That's a terrible sentence, but hopefully you know what I mean!) However, with a diminished chord, there are a LOT of options, so they can be very useful for creating variety, or changing the key altogether. For example, here are a few chords that could follow D dim:



If you play them on the piano, you'll realise that the music would go in a totally different direction each time.

When singing diminished chords, there are a couple of things that are useful to bear in mind. These chords come up in two different ways in a choral context - either you're singing one note of a diminished chord (and the rest of the choir are singing the other notes), or you're singing a vocal line which has a few notes from a diminished arpeggio in it. The former is much more common - in the latter case, the main thing to remember (as always with minor thirds) is that the interval is usually smaller than you think, so if you're coming DOWN a diminished arpeggio, think "Eek! Descending minor thirds!" and hopefully you will channel our ex-choral director and remember not to go flat. Going UP the arpeggio isn't quite as hard, but it's still worth thinking about the tuning.

If you're singing one note of the chord, the most difficult thing is actually coming in on the right one. It's not so bad if the diminished chord only happens when you actually sing it, but there are quite a few examples like the end of the Confutatis Maledictis movement of Mozart's Requiem. I'm talking about the "oro supplex" bit (starting at 1:24 in the linked video). It's probably not too hard for the basses, but I know that the first few times I sang the alto part, I had to really concentrate in order to come in on the right note at the start of each of those four phrases. It's almost impossible to reliably pick it out of the chord that's heard in the first two beats (when the basses come in) - I could easily pick a note that FITS, but if I'm not thinking about it properly, it's quite easy to come in on the tenor note instead of the alto one. I can get it quite easily now, but that's mainly through muscle memory. (I notice he fixes it so the sops just have to remember the same note each time - sensible chap!)

12 days of musical terminology, day 4 - ornaments

After a rhythmic device and a harmonic device, it seems appropriate to talk about a melodic device today. I mentioned appoggiaturas yesterday, and since I was planning to include them in this series anyway, today may as well be the day. But I think it will be more helpful to talk briefly about ALL the commonly-used ornaments (one of which is the appoggiatura).

Ornaments (i.e. decorations of the melody) have always been very common in music. These days, R&B singers in particular - especially when singing ballads - use ornamentation to an extreme degree. (They even do it when singing the American National Anthem, and no-one bats an eyelid, although it always sounds a bit odd to me.) But this has been the case for hundreds of years - in renaissance and baroque times, in particular, a solo performer wouldn't be expected to play or sing just the notes on the page. They would make up their own ornaments. (Often, in a piece with repeats or a D.C., they would perform the melody more or less unembellished the first time, and then add the ornaments on the repeat.)

Sometimes, the composer would specify exactly what ornaments he wanted, rather than leaving it to the performer (you can see that this makes sense if there are several people performing together!), and symbols evolved for various types of ornament. There were (and are) different ways of interpreting these symbols, varying according to when and where the music was written. In most cases, performers today do not know (for sure) how ANY given ornament should be interpreted, but there are some general guidelines which are usually applied in the first instance, until the conductor specifies something different.

(I'm only going to talk about ornaments used in choral music, but the Wikipedia article has the others, plus fuller explanations of the ones I WILL mention.)

There are two main types of ornaments commonly used in choral music: trills (including mordents), and grace notes (including appoggiaturas and acciaccaturas).

Trill: everyone knows what a trill is, I think. The symbol is tr placed above the note, and this indicates that the performer should alternate rapidly between that note and the one above. (How do you know whether a trill on an A goes to B or B flat? It depends on the key signature. If there is a B flat in the key signature, then a trill on an A goes to B flat; otherwise, it goes to a B natural. If the composer wants to specify a trill to a note that's NOT in the key signature, the trill symbol has an accidental above it.) The trill itself is straightforward enough to interpret; the difficulty is with the start and end of the trill. In general, trills in music written before about 1830 actually start on the note above, and trills in more recent music start on the note itself. The END of the trill usually has a little twiddle involving the note below. (There are exceptions to both rules, but the conductor will specify these.)

The examples below should give you the idea. Note that the number of repetitions of each note will depend on the speed and style of the music - there is not a hard and fast rule that determines how many there should be. Also, the fact that I've put a triplet in the last example does not mean that that's how it would be performed - the notes in the trill are not necessarily all exactly the same length, and I only put the triplet in so I could include all the notes.



Mordent: this is the "squiggle" symbol. Sometimes (particularly in earlier music) this symbol implies a trill, in which case it would be performed as above; however, usually it implies just a single twiddle to the note above, as shown below.



Grace note: these have two general characteristics, plus some more specific ones that I'll mention under each type. The first general characteristic is that they're printed as small-size notes (i.e. smaller than the "normal" notes). The second is that their length is not counted towards the length of the bar. There can be several grace notes, or just one. If there's only one, it will be an appoggiatura or acciaccatura - more on each in a minute. If there's more than one, they're usually just called grace notes.

Mozart's "Ronda Alla Turca" (the last movement of his piano sonata no. 11 in A major, K331) has some good examples of grace notes. Look at the first page. There are grace notes in the right hand on the second line, and in the left hand on the fifth line. (There are instructions at the bottom of the page regarding how to perform these, but they're likely to be written by the editor rather than Mozart himself, I suspect. Also, I've usually heard this piece performed NOT according to those instructions!) In the first bar of the second line, you'll notice that if you ignore the grace notes, the four full-size quavers add up to two full crotchet beats, i.e. a full bar of 2/4. That's what I mean by the length of the grace notes not being counted towards the length of the bar.

I've usually heard the aforementioned grace notes performed like this (I've omitted staccato marks etc. for clarity):



but the editor in this case is suggesting that the correct version is this:



In general, I would say that the first method of interpreting multiple grace notes (i.e. before the beat) is more common, but the conductor may specify the second.

Acciaccatura: this should really be pronounced "atch-ACK-a-toora" but is usually closer to "ack-see-ack-a-toora" or something similar. It's most often translated as "crushed note", and it's the single-grace-note-with-a-line-through-it symbol. It's played as close as possible to the main note. Usually, if a choir has to sing one, they will be instructed to sing the acciaccatura on the actual beat and then move immediately to the main note. This is because if a choir tries to do it the other possible way - i.e. to sing the acciaccatura at the last possible moment BEFORE the main note - the result is usually rather untidy! However, when played on instruments, it's more common to play the acciaccatura before the beat. For example, the intro to The Shepherd's Farewell:



Appoggiatura: pronounced "ap-PODGE-a-toora", and most people can manage that (although you do often hear "a-podge-a-tyoo-ra"). This is much more common in choral music than the acciaccatura. It's the single-grace-note-WITHOUT-a-line-through-it symbol, and it's usually translated as "leaning note". Unlike the acciaccatura, which is always as short as possible, the appoggiatura has a specific length, although (like other grace notes) the length of the appoggiatura does not count towards the length of the bar. Also unlike the acciaccatura (which is usually written as a quaver, however long it actually is), the appoggiatura can be written as more or less any note value, but the written note value doesn't necessarily imply how long the appoggiatura should be! This ornament causes more confusion than all the others combined, I think.

As a general rule, the appoggiatura note is performed on the beat, and the main note comes later (even if the appoggiatura is written before the barline). In most cases the two notes (appoggiatura and main note) are of equal length, UNLESS the main note is dotted, in which case the appoggiatura note is twice as long as the main note (i.e. if it's a dotted crotchet, the appoggiatura will be a crotchet and the main note will be a quaver). As usual, there are exceptions to these rules, and the conductor will specify them. But, to give you an idea of the common practice:





Those two examples are both from "He Was Despised" (Messiah), and (like many things in Messiah) will often be interpreted differently. However, they will hopefully clarify the most common way of performing appoggiaturas if you are given no instruction to the contrary.

I could write much more, but I think I've covered the main bits I intended. (Note to self: stop coming up with ideas that take much long than you expect!)

12 days of musical terminology, day 3 - suspension

Yesterday (hemiola) we had a rhythmic device. Today's is a harmonic device, but it's so ubiquitous that it's been in use from renaissance times to pop songs that are in the charts today. A suspension is actually a discord, but it's one with a very specific structure and purpose.

Here's how it works. Normally, if you have two consecutive chords, they are separate, so that all the voice parts move to the new chord at the same time (e.g. the first bar in the example below). Sometimes, though, one of the parts delays its move to the new chord, so that it hangs onto its old note while the other parts move to the new one. It's possible, of course, that the delayed note still fits with the new chord, but if it doesn't fit at all - i.e. it creates a discord - then that note is a suspension. When it finally does move to the correct note in the new chord, that's called a resolution.

For example, here are the last three bars of Messiah. The soprano part has a suspension in the second bar. The other three parts move to an A major chord at the start of that bar, but the sopranos hold onto their D from the previous chord, and only move to the C sharp (which DOES fit in an A major chord, unlike the D) on the third beat. (I am behaving myself here and not making jokes about the sopranos always being a bit behind...)



(Purists will point out that this is actually an appoggiatura rather than a suspension, because the D isn't actually TIED from the first bar to the second. I'll explain appoggiaturas another day. But if it feels like a suspension and sounds like a suspension, most musicians would call it a suspension.)

The example above is a "suspended fourth", i.e. the suspended note (the D) is the 4th note above the bass note of the suspension chord (A). This is the most common type of suspension, and its resolution consists of the 4th moving to the 3rd. Note also that the suspension itself is on the strong beat, and the resolution is weaker. (You will often be instructed to place a slight accent on a suspension if you are the part with the suspended note, so it's useful to be able to spot suspensions and anticipate this instruction.)

I mentioned that suspensions are also used in pop songs, and if you know any guitarists, they will know all about suspensions... at least, if you ask one to play you an Asus4 chord followed by A, you'll hear the second bar in the Messiah example above. Below is a fairly famous pop example - it's the intro to Merry Xmas Everybody by Slade. The suspension (Dsus4, or a D major chord with the 3rd note (F sharp) replaced by the 4th note (G)) is in the third bar, and it resolves to a D chord in the fourth bar. This same suspension occurs several more times during the song, in the two bars just before the chorus each time. (Listen to it here.)



And I can't finish without pointing out the best ever example of a series of suspensions. Look at the first page of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater. This has mainly suspended seconds rather than suspended fourths, but it has one after another, and really ramps up the harmonic tension. Lovely. (EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to mention the best pop example of a series of suspensions, which is Pinball Wizard by The Who - the suspensions start at 0:18 with Bsus4 followed by B repeatedly, and then there's a proper sequence of them during the verse.)

12 days of musical terminology, day 2 - hemiola

This one comes up so often that I imagine most people must have worked out by now what it means, but I'll explain just in case there are some that haven't. A hemiola is a rhythmic device used in triple time (e.g. 3/4) in which 2 bars of 3 beats are effectively replaced by 3 lots of 2 beats (i.e. the accents are placed differently). It has the effect of making the music seem to hurry along a bit quicker. and therefore increases the excitement (for want of a better word) at a cadence.

It's used more in Baroque music than later, particularly dance movements such as minuets (although there ARE hemiolas in non-Baroque music - for example, there are even some in Gerontius). The Wikipedia article has a good example written out, but there are lots of very familiar ones in Messiah. Any movement in 3/4 time will have several. For example, in And the Glory of the Lord, the first one is at the end of the intro, just before the altos start. Bars 9 and 10 are still in 3/4, but the notes are actually three groups of two, and those bars would be performed with accents every two beats rather than every three. (In my copy all the hemiolas are actually marked with square brackets above and below the stave - not sure if this is the case in newer editions.) Sometimes conductors actually change their beat at a hemiola - i.e. they beat 2/4 instead of 3/4 - but in my experience this confuses too many people!

Other Messiah movements with hemiolas are "Thou art gone up on high", "Let us break their bonds" (not as obvious in this one, but they ARE there), "Thou shalt break them", "I know that my redeemer liveth", "The trumpet shall sound", and "If God be for us". You will be able to spot hemiolas in other works yourself - any Baroque piece in 3/4 will have some, plus many others. (There are also a few works in 6/8 that have hemiolas (i.e. there's a bar with three accents instead of two) but America from West Side Story is NOT one of them - it's in 6/8, and it does have alternating bars of two accents and three accents, but there are no proper hemiolas in the sense of "rhythmic device whose purpose is to lead to a cadence".)

12 days of musical terminology, day 1 - dominant pedal

Lots of people I know online have been doing daily posts throughout December, following various themes. I didn't have the energy for that, but I do like the idea of another Twelve Days of Christmas series of posts. And what I have the urge to share with you is musical terminology.

I hope this doesn't seem too patronising - I apologise if so. I'm not talking about BASIC terms - I'm thinking more of the more specialised terms that might not come up in grade 5 theory but often get mentioned during rehearsals. I'm always aware of quite a few blank looks around me when one comes up, so I thought I'd try and give a series of very brief explanations of a selection of terms. (I've explained some of them here before, so I hope you'll forgive me if I copy and paste a bit so that everything's in one place.)

I decided that the obvious one to start with is the term dominant pedal, because it's in my blog URL!

A dominant pedal is a kind of aural clue that we're reaching the end of the piece (once you know what they sound like you'll be amazed how many pieces have one). A "pedal" is any long held note, lasting several bars, usually in the bass line (and often also played on an organ pedal, hence the name). A dominant pedal implies that the pedal note is at the dominant pitch, i.e. the 5th note of the scale. For example, I mentioned the one in the descant verse of O Come All Ye Faithful. The carol is in G major, so the dominant note is D, and there's a long D in the bass starting halfway through the descant verse.

Another example is at the end of the Amen Chorus in Messiah - it's in D major, so when the basses get an A that they hold for several bars, there's your dominant pedal. (There are loads in Messiah if you look.) There's a similar example at the end of part 1 of The Dream of Gerontius, with a long held A, and another one near the end of the big C majr chorus (look for a long held G) and another couple of not-quite-so-obvious ones near the end of the work.

I could give you more examples, but if you can recognise the ones I've already mentioned, you'll be able to spot your own.

More terminology tomorrow!

He heard, very far off in the wood, a sound of bells

Click here! Go on, you won't regret it, I promise!

Many of my friends have realised by now that it amuses me greatly to wander round for the whole of December with sleighbells in my pocket, so that I jingle slightly when I walk (and even more when I run). I was just thinking today about two incidents from my past that are probably responsible for this habit.

At the first school I taught at, I worked closely with a lady called Marilyn, who ran the woodwind ensembles. One year, she had two boys in her class who were beginner percussionists, and they were so keen that she let them both join the senior ensemble even though there was often nothing for them to do (they wanted to play the drum kit, but there was an older boy who did that). At Christmas in their first year, she rewarded their patience by allowing them both to play the sleighbells in any piece requiring them. To save time, she told them each to keep their sleighbells in their tray (the school had those desks that have a removable tray underneath the writing surface) rather than having to go to the percussion storeroom every time they were needed. However, Michael and Mark both soon realised that the slightest movement, while they were sitting at their desks working, would result in a slight jingle... and every time this happened, Marilyn would jump, and look round wildly to see where the noise had come from. (She'd forgotten the boys had sleighbells in their trays.)

After a while, they took to carrying the sleighbells in their pockets when they weren't in the classroom, so that if they saw her in the corridor they could wait till she'd passed them and then jingle from a distance while hiding. I think the poor woman was losing her mind by the time Christmas came!

Several years later, I was teaching in a special school, and we always ended every day by reading aloud to our classes for ten minutes. One year, I read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to them, and when I was getting to the bit where the White Witch first appears (heralded by sleighbells) I remembered I had a set of sleighbells in the bottom of my desk drawer. I surreptitiously sneaked the drawer open, just enough for me to be able to reach the sleighbells, and I shook them at exactly the right moment, and then quickly withdrew my hand and kept a straight face while reading on.

The effect on the class was fabulous. They'd obviously all heard the jingling, but because I hadn't mentioned it, and (as far as they could see) there was no-one who could have caused it, they all started looking round the room and out of the window. When I got to the end of the chapter, I responded to "Did you hear that, Miss?" with "Hear what?" and didn't admit anything. I went home giggling to myself, reminded of Michael and Mark and Marilyn.

For the rest of the book, I used the sleighbells at every relevant opportunity - far more often than they were actually mentioned in the text! - just because it was so funny. The kids did catch on eventually, and seemed quite amused that I'd fooled them for so long. But ever since then, the idea of random jingling has made me smile throughout December.



Back to the present day. The last carol concert was the best of the four, I thought. It was certainly the best attended, but most importantly all five horns wore inflatable Santa suits! And I think the whole of the 2nd alto section - and probably some of the 1sts (you'd think it'd be the other way round, but I bet it wasn't) - sang the descant in O Come All Ye Faithful. It was a bit of a strain but GREAT fun - we can do a brilliant top G, as long as (a) it's allowed to be fortissimo; (b) the vowel can be fairly approximate; and (c) we don't have to sing much afterwards. (Good training for Mahler 2, of which more in a minute.)

(The descant verse of O Come All Ye Faithful, by the way, has one of the best examples of a dominant pedal there is. At the "O come let us adore him" bit, the organ and the bass instruments all hold a long D for several bars. This heightens the buildup to the end of the carol.)

I'm watching the Carols from Kings thing on TV as I write this, and it includes the Rutter arrangement of O Holy Night. Nice to hear it from the front - the altos don't get the tune anywhere in it, so we got a bit of a skewed perspective. I must say the King's boys don't get the top B flat anywhere near as well as our sops did! (It wasn't in the radio version, which I heard this afternoon. Does ANYONE know why there are always so many differences between the radio and TV versions? I've always wondered. The TV one doesn't look live - at least, they never show the congregation - so I guess they record it earlier... but why not just televise the radio version?)

(Huh - they just got to Personent Hodie, which WAS in the radio version, but it was in Latin on the radio and English on the TV! Bizarre!)

Just one final carol-related thought for people for next year. I've noticed that most people in the choir spend quite a bit of time attaching paperclips and various coloured slips of paper to their copies of Carols for Choirs, so that they can flip instantly to the next carol on the list. I used to do this, but then I became lazier and just wrote "go to page 246" (or whatever the next page is) at the end of each carol. This worked fine. Then I became even lazier, and just wrote the page numbers on the running order. I've found that there's plenty of time during the concert to find the correct page just by looking at the running order, although I sometimes ease my way a bit by using the sheet music as bookmarks for the first few carols. Just something you might like to try next year if you can't be bothered to faff around with post-it notes.

Anyway, I mentioned Mahler 2. This is our next concert, on 28th January, and I know a few people are already getting a bit anxious about singing it from memory. I've therefore updated my mp3 page, and it now contains not only mp3s of the relevant bit of the symphony, but also PDFs of the vocal score (both full and for individual parts), and a copy of the German text. I've also included an mp3 of me reading the German, in case new people don't know how to pronounce it. I hope this is useful, particularly as I don't think there's any Mahler on Cyberbass. (I could produce Cyberbass-style learning files for Mahler 2 if necessary, but let's see how you get on with what I've already done. I did this other stuff last time we did Mahler 2.)

(By the way, I've had to transfer my downloadable stuff to a free web hosting service, because the person who used to supply my webspace stopped responding to my attempts to contact him. It means there's a couple of extra steps before you can download things - I hope it's not too offputting. Please let me know if you need any help.)

Other stuff... I was told earlier today that there was a programme on BBC Radio Manchester this teatime that might include bits of our carol concerts, but I listened to it and it didn't. However, there's a similar-looking programme tomorrow (Christmas Day) at 5am, but it's probably a repeat. You'll be able to find it on iPlayer.

Also from the BBC, they've got a composite video of lots of choirs singing the Hallelujah Chorus. As they mention, it's intriguing how varied the pitch is!

This health and safety guidance for the singing of festive songs was read out by Fanny before the last concert. (My sister sent it to me last week, but I hadn't got round to posting the link until now.)

Much to my surprise, on the same night as our last carol concert, the Manchester Cathedral carol service was cancelled due to snow.

The Guardian had a nice editorial about carol singing. Also, they had a lovely article about evensong at St Paul's Cathedral.

In the Telegraph, several famous musicians tell us their favorite carols.

At the other end of the spectrum, the Times asks various famous artistic types what they secretly hate. Who'd have thought that Stephen Hough hates Bach? Or that our own music director doesn't like Belshazzar? (Via Intermezzo.)

Intermezzo also has a review of the best of 2009, which includes our Wagner weekend.

The Telegraph wonders whether classical music can ever be sexy.

ChoralBlog leads us to a post on the Confessions of a Choral Singer blog, with the great title Giving the Choir the Finger (get your mind out of the gutter). This post also links to a great post about body language of conductors. Well worth a read.

Here's a great article I saw a day or two ago, but annoyingly I forgot to make a note of where I saw the link. (Anyone who's reading this and thinks they deserve the credit, please let me know.) It's by Kenneth Woods and is about how some orchestral players can be described as terrorists.

On a very non-Christmassy note, here's yet another article about the vuvuzela, this time about a guy who's claiming he invented it. (I've decided to make it my mission to ensure that before the World Cup starts, everyone who reads this blog knows the name of that instrument!)

Choral Evensong on Radio 3 on Wednesday (30th December, 4pm) is live from Eton College Chapel, and the director of music is Ralph Allwood. And at 10pm the same day, they're repeating the Ukulele Prom, in case you missed it in the summer.

And finally, Venice is currently flooded, and the Big Picture does snow. Pretty!

P.S. Watch out for a series of twelve very short daily posts starting tomorrow, in which I will tell you (hopefully) useful and interesting stuff :-)

In the dead of night, all the world lay sleeping in the blanket of the dark

I've had the subject line of this post in my head for the last three days nonstop. Brownie points if you know what song it's from!

We've had three carol concerts now, with the last one to come tonight. They've been quite fun - not as silly as in previous years, but never mind. Actually, the second and third concerts were much more fun than the first, after we were exhorted to be more festive - I think we rose to the challenge! The orchestra did too - the second concert saw the welcome return of both the moving Santa hat on the second desk of the 2nd violins, and the brass standing up for their jazzy solo in Sleigh Ride; the third concert saw the horns standing, at last, to interrupt Sleigh Ride with a line of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. (Sleigh Ride just sounds WRONG without that!)



The choir was quite depleted on Sunday - partly due to illness, partly due to people who'd always had other plans, and partly due to the extreme weather conditions. I can't remember the last time I saw so much snow in the city centre. This probably affected the audience too - there were lots of empty seats (rare for the carol concerts) and lots of people arrived late. A few of the orchestra were delayed as well - in fact the organist didn't arrive until the second half, so the first verse of Once in Royal had to be played on the piano.

Amy wins the prize for the most dedication to the spirit of Christmas, by the way - she left her sleighbells on her seat on Saturday night and they'd vanished when she went back for them fifteen minutes later... so she went out on Sunday morning and BOUGHT SOME MORE (from a shop I've never heard of, but it sounds lovely: Little Nut Tree Toys of Chorlton). There were quite a few sets of sleighbells being used by the alto section, in fact - I must try and get a photo of all of them together!

My favourite part of the concert (apart from Sleigh Ride, which is always great) was the bit when the Children's Choir was singing Babe of Bethlehem by Edmund Walters, and everyone else was asked to hum Away in a Manger in the last verse. It was a magical moment. I noticed that all the brass players (who don't play in that piece) were humming along too, with contented looks on their faces. Lovely!

There's been some debate in the alto section over which is the cutest member of the Children's Choir. We're torn between the dark-haired boy on the end of the front row, and the blondish bespectacled boy in the middle of the third row. Both of them are so engaged with their performance that it's difficult to look away from either of them. (The others in the choir are all great too, but these two are the ones who've caught our eye.)

The Youth Choir are sounding really good, too - in fact, better than they've sounded in years. There are fewer of them than there used to be, but they're really good. (Quality rather than quantity is our unofficial 2nd alto motto - on Sunday afternoon there were seven 2nd altos and twenty-three 1sts. Usually there are more of both, but the ratio is usually about the same - three times as many firsts as seconds.)

I didn't realise until yesterday that Petroc Trelawny, our presenter, has a blog on the Telegraph website. Looking back a few entries, I found a great post he wrote about our very own orchestra.

Talking of great posts, here's one by Chris Rowbury (From the Front of the Choir) about the connection between singing and our sense of self. It mentions the Alzheimer's Choir that Amy told me about the other day, plus all sorts of interesting related things.

On a similar subject, here's a BBC News article about how stroke patients were helped by Kenny Rogers songs.

And here's a fascinating one from the BBC News Magazine, about several unusual carol singing traditions in various parts of the UK.

A Telegraph article tells us why Christmas carols make the church feel nervous.

From Tom Service, news that the British Library has put parts of the autograph score of Messiah online. It didn't work when I tried it, though, so I lost interest.

Here's an article from BBC Music Magazine about how audiences are different in different countries.

The MEN tells us that both the Manchester Boys' Choir and the Manchester Girls' Choir have ceased to exist because the council will no longer fund them. The official reason is falling numbers (the girls' choir apparently only had six members), which makes it all the more impressive that our own children's choir had more than eighty members on stage this weekend at each concert. I wondered for a moment whether those two facts are connected, but I think the MBC and MGC were shrinking long before our children's choir was formed.

The MEN also tells us that the new yellow tram is now in operation. I'm quite excited about this - sad, I know!

I mentioned the Duel in the Pool that took place in Manchester this weekend. Unsurprisingly the USA won overall, but a local guy beat Michael Phelps!

I absolutely love this post (from Making Light) about the Christmas lights of Mousehole.

I also love the Astronomy Picture of the Day from Saturday - an aurora AND a meteor.

And finally, in case I don't get round to writing again in time, don't forget the NORAD Santa Tracker on Christmas Eve (especially if your kids have never seen it) and the Sydney-Hobart Yacht Race on Boxing Day. And if the days start to merge into one another, Is It Christmas? will help :-)

It's the last posting date today!

For second class post, anyway. I'm sure you all knew that and have already sent all your cards. I haven't, but maybe I will before the end of the day.

There's been a lot of singing for me in the past week. Saturday was the day of the two Pleiades gigs (one in Bury for FC United, closely followed by one at the Henry Watson Music Library). There were complicated plans, not only because we only had an hour between the two gigs and had to get from Bury to Manchester in that time, but also because Alison couldn't make it to Bury (and possibly not to the library either) so we had Amy standing in for her. There was also a possibility that Claire wouldn't be able to make it to the library. And there was the fact that part of the Bury gig was outdoors, with no possibility of cover, which meant that if it rained we could probably still sing (if there was an umbrella to stop our music getting wet) but we wouldn't be able to use our guitarist for fear of wrecking his guitar. So I had several different set lists planned - two for Bury (a fair weather one and a rain one) and three for the library (one for if Claire could make it - that list included the ones with the highest sop parts), one for if either Claire OR Alison could make it (there was one song in which Claire's part was vital but not very high, so Alison could sing it if Claire wasn't there, because Amy was still singing Alison's part) and a third for if neither Claire nor Alison could make it.

As it turned out, of course - and I should have expected it, because something like this ALWAYS happens - all five lists had to be scrapped, because on the day Amy woke up with a sore throat and no voice. This meant that some songs had to be left out entirely, and most of the others involved a bit of part-swapping so that all the parts were still covered. But it wasn't as complicated as it might sound to rearrange everything, because I know all the arrangements inside out, so I actually had the new instructions finished before I changed buses in Rochdale. The Bury gig went very well (although it was almost as cold inside the clubhouse as it was outside - Bury FC had turned the heating off for some reason) and we managed to get to the library with ten minutes to spare. By then, there was a new problem - my revised library set list relied on Alison to get there, but she texted twenty minutes before our slot was due to start, to say that she was stuck in traffic in Altrincham. We could still do most of the songs by using the same voice allocations that we'd had in Bury, but there were a couple that had too many parts. They were both towards the end of the set, and as it turned out Alison got there JUST in time for them. In fact, the only thing that went even slightly wrong during the library set was that Nigel started "This Little Babe" at a speed of about crotchet = 3000, and he was concentrating so hard on playing the right chords at the right time that it was impossible to slow him down. We just about managed to keep up, but an accurate description of the lyrics would be "babbled", I think! Not to worry.

Sunday featured a totally different style of singing - I was helping out Susan Oates by singing in the Oldham Hulme Grammar School for Boys carol service. There were six of us forming the alto section, including my friend Lindsey, whose nephew Aidan turned out to be the treble soloist in Once in Royal David's City (and he did it very beautifully). Lindsey's normally a soprano, and she says she now understands why the altos tend to get things right - she hadn't realised that so many of our parts consist of the same note all the way through!

Wednesday was the piano rehearsal for the carol concerts, and it went well, although there was a bit of a surprise when we arrived to find that And the Glory of the Lord (from Messiah) was on the programme, and we were supposed to be rehearsing it that very night... but we hadn't been told it was on the programme, so none of us had brought our Messiah scores. This was actually really good, because the conductor decided it was worth rehearsing it anyway on the grounds that we probably knew it from memory - and it turned out we did! I think a lot of people were quite surprised at how much they knew, and how good it sounded - and the conductor seemed VERY impressed. I don't think there are many choirs that could have done that, with no warning!

This weekend includes an orchestral rehearsal plus three concerts, with the final concert being on Tuesday. I look forward to seeing whether the silliness matches the standards of previous years!

The first of this week's links is the Manchester Evening News story about Pat - make sure you "view gallery" to see all the pictures.

Judy Paskell had a lodger a few years ago - a singer called Ron Samm. She's kept in touch with him since, and on Saturday she went to see him take the lead role in Otello in Birmingham. I was sure she must have been mistaken when she told me that he was the first black singer to take the role in the UK, but she is absolutely correct. The reviews are great, but do get Judy to describe the experience to you if you get a chance - it sounds amazing. In the meantime, here's a Guardian review, and an extra report from Tom Service, and a Times review, and news (from Intermezzo) that there is to be a TV programme about it.

Talking of opera, I was very surprised to learn that Nikolaus Harnoncourt - one of the mainstays of the historically informed performance movement - has recorded Porgy and Bess. (No reason why he shouldn't - it just seems odd!)

And here's a great Spectator article about various modes of transport used within operas.

Also in the Spectator, Peter Phillips discusses whether or not there is still any need for the term early music.

Tom Service discusses baton sizes.

It seems that El Sistema (the Venezuelan music education system) has begun in England, but you'll be shocked - SHOCKED! - to hear that the organisers are worried about spending cuts.

I'm sure most of you knew this, but if not: While Shepherds Watched used to be sung to the tune of On Ilkley Moor.

I really like this Spectator article about how music can help dementia sufferers.

ChoralBlog has a post that includes a spoof video imagining what musicologists might be able to say about the Beatles in a thousand years' time. The video didn't do much for me, but I found Allen's accompanying comments very thought-provoking - what he says is obvious, but I hadn't ever considered it in quite that way before.

You are probably aware of the current chart battle for the Christmas number one single (if you haven't, the short version is that some people have started a campaign to prevent the X-Factor winner from being the Christmas number one, by urging people to buy a specific different single). Freaky Trigger has an interesting post discussing this.

I've often linked to The Big Picture. This week they've published a selection of 120 of their best photos of 2009. Part 1 is here, and there are links at the end to parts 2 and 3. Spectacular as ever.

The Guardian has a list of some of the new words that have emerged over the past decade. I've never heard of most of these! How about you?

BBC News has some interesting comparisons between British and American chocolate. (I hadn't realised there were ANY differences, but then I've only been to the USA once, and that was over ten years ago.)

I mentioned a London quiz a few posts ago - here are the answers.

I also mentioned "Brick Factor" Lego auditions - well, they had a winner.

It looks as if Manchester will get Oyster cards after all! Yay!

And finally, this report of the recent world pie-eating contest amused me a LOT.

It is our duty to sparkle a little

Singing has been very helpful this week - a welcome distraction from a few very bad days (that included a broken-down boiler AND a repossession letter). Tonight was a frantic (but, as always, fun) rehearsal with my band, which has two gigs this Saturday afternoon and therefore thirty songs to rehearse. Needless to say, there wasn't time to rehearse any of them as thoroughly as we would have liked, but none of the songs are new, so I'm sure we'll be fine. Current favourites: the Carols for Choirs 4 a cappella version of Deck the Hall, and my own a cappella arrangement of 2000 Miles. But we also had fun doing This Little Babe (one to a part, plus guitar) and the old favourites such as Lonely This Christmas and Merry Xmas Everybody. You can hear all of these (and more) at the Henry Watson Music Library on Saturday from 4pm. (The event starts at 2pm, and you can also see City of Manchester Opera and the Cavendish Singers.)

Choir on Wednesday night was almost as frantic, because of course there were many Christmas carols (plus a bit of the Christmas Oratorio) to learn in time for next week's concerts. There was also an extra presentation to Pat for her fifty years in the choir - she got quite a few surprises, and when she said "what a pity you couldn't give me Willard White", it turned out that they'd managed to get a signed photo from him, dedicated to her! Very impressive. Also there were some excellent cupcakes!

The most amusing bit of the rehearsal was definitely the Jingle Bells argument - there's a bit in verse 2 where the ladies are supposed to sing a couple of lines, but in the past the men have done it while we whoop and shout "yee-ha!" etc. After much discussion, that's the way it will happen this year :-) I was also very amused, however, by Ding Dong Merrily - when this was announced, there was a sigh of relief, because the choir knows that one VERY well... but it turned out to be a version we'd never done before, and everyone had to rapidly go into sight-reading mode. I'm not sure quite why this was so funny, but it amused me for hours.

Anyway, a few links. I mentioned Glee a while ago (that new American TV series about a high school choir). Well, the pilot episode is on E4 on Tuesday, so you can see what all the fuss is about, with the rest of the series in the new year. I've seen twelve episodes of it, and I've found it quite silly but occasionally fun (especially the one where they use a Beyonce song to help the football team...)

Most of you will have seen by now that there was a review for our Messiah - pity it has a few errors, but it's a good review despite them.

But this cracked me up - a condensed version of Messiah. Sample: Lift up your heads, O ye gates / And be ye lifted up, ye doors / Unless you are the sort / That are on hinges / In which case / You can open / Normally. Hee!

This story from Intermezzo about Nathan Gunn introduced me to the concept of barihunks. (There's even a blog devoted to them!) Intriguing.

Tom Service has a great review of the decade in classical music which mentions our orchestra. He also tells us that Simon Rattle and the Berlin Phil are coming to London in 2011.

Talking of the Berlin Phil, Intermezzo drew my attention to an article in The Scotsman that mentions how much it costs to book them. See if you can guess before you look!

Great article on the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra Blog about the standard of Scottish compositions compared to Czech ones.

From ChoralBlog, news of the choral nominees for the 2010 Grammy Awards. I think we've already beaten at least one of them to a major award :-)

A nice thing in the BBC Music Magazine about how church choirs are not just for Christmas.

And, the plans for a Royal Opera House in the North are moving again. (More about this here.)

There will be a load of swimmers that even I've heard of (e.g. Michael Phelps and Rebecca Adlington) in Manchester next weekend, for something called Duel in the Pool. We'll all be singing carols at the time, but it's on TV if you want to watch.

I've seen all sorts of stories about this: a weird spiral in the sky over Norway. Seems to be genuine - I wonder which theory is correct?

There's going to be a festival in Manchester in 2012 to celebrate Alan Turing. About time.

I'm amused by this use of a waxwork of Robert Downey Jr on the London Underground. And, while we're on the subject of London, Londonist has a quiz to see how well you know London.

And finally, apparently redheads can get free travel in Wigan!