feuding choristers?!?

I am in such an uncomfortable situation right now with a choir that I sing in, but am not researching, specifically. There has been a split in the choir. One half supports the chair lady, who does not like the musical director, and has unceremoniously and unilaterally fired him, and the other half support the musical director. I joined this specific choir because I had sung under the musical director before, and want to continue to do so, and so by default, I support him. I also support him on pronciple. But there is a greater issue at stake here, and that is, why do I, and other members of this choir want to sing in a choir at all? The answer from my side is: it's all about the music. Of course that's what its really all about. But then why don't I just join another choir? One that isn't in the grips of revolution? Because part of what I feel is important about the whole process of singing in a choir like this is integrity. I want to sing in a choir, but I also want to sing good music well, musically and physically/technically. I feel that this particular director is capable of facilitating my doing that. I am interested to know what reasons those who don't support him have.

A ceremony and a concert

Friday saw an interesting field 'outing', in that it was the membership ceremony and first concert of the recently combined choir. It was held in the art gallery of the university, which, while a popular concert venue, is perhaps not ideal as such. there is no space for chairs, and so the friends and family of the choir who attended stood around in a huddle, trying no balance a good view with the need to not jostle or damage the artworks. The room is small, which is great for sound, but affords all but the luckiest audience members little more than a bad view.

But despite the surroundings, the concert and ceremony were a success. The ceremony involved each chorister collecting a candle, and lighting it from a larger candle held by the director, and then placing it on a stand in the general arrangement of the choir benches on which they stand. They were also each given a pledge, and their names, fields of research and hometown were read out. It was a lovely ceremony, and has the potential to be quite touching. It made me think about the way in which loyalty to a body like a choir is actually constructed. Certainly, the element of music plays a role all its own, as the use of, for example, anthems, for non-musical organisations as a way of evoking feelings of loyalty suggest. But beyond that, I have always had a sense that the actual act of singing, and the fact that people are sharing a physical space with sound, and eachother, binds them together, even if only temporarily, in a very evocative way. I have a little speech that I give my choir when I feel its needed that deals with sound activating air particles, and each chorister sharing the use of that air with every other chorister, and with their audience. I use it as a starting point for discussions on musical integrity, where I suggest that because we are sharing such a basic element in such an intimate way, we have a responsibility to our audience and to one another to make the best, most honest use of that possible. It may sound, from the way I've written about it above that it is just some hackneyed bit of rhetoric that I use to get what I want out of the choir, but it really is something I believe in very strongly. Standing in that little art gallery, surrounded by sound and positive energy, as the choir sang after the ceremony, I was reminded of the specific impact of sound itself, and more that that, of vocal sound. It really is enervating and quite moving, and that fact is difficult to explain. Sure, the words, in some instances, are what touch a person, and in other circumstances, a specific music has associations for a person that makes it significant. Sometimes, its just that the music is beautiful, or that it is a particularly skilled choir, or that one is moved by the situation as a whole: being in a performance, at a specific place and time, surrounded by specific people, or within a particular context, but there is something that overides all that extraneous stuff, too. it has to do with the physical act of singing, and blending your voice with the voices of others. It has to do with hearing sound interact with the space you are in, and knowing it comes from the people you are with. It has to do with the act of creation, and recreation, and sometimes, with the simple act of doing, in tandem with others. I still find it amazing, at times, to hear music coming from the complex organism that is my physical body, produced by organs and tissues that are specialised for other purposes, but that just happen to be able to work in tandem in this way. And I find it amazing on occasion to realize that I am contributing to the sound I am hearing. In Hereford Cathedral last August, I sat in a wooden choir bench, and quite literally felt the sound the choir was making through the wood. And then the organ started...

Ok, tangent curbed. Back to the concert. I was so amazed to hear such coherent musical sound after relatively few rehearsals from this choir. The conductor said to me before that there was lots she still wanted to work on, and that it was "rough", and with some effort, I could pick up odd musical elements that needed tightening up. Certainly, the co-ordination of movement in the numbers that employed it could do with work. But more important that all that, a group of people have in no time at all become a choir. Of course, all these people have, as the conductor put it, "musicality," whatever that is, but even with that, I feel that they have achieved something remarkable. It would be interesting to see how a non-select choir fares. Of course, the conductor's role is not to be sneezed at here. But that is the topic for another space.

Dancing and singing

My supervisor took issue today with my placing dance under the sub-heading of "Extra-musical features." The thing is, whether or not it is extraneous to music is dependant on the situation. Some music feels wrong without dance, and other music doesn't feel like it can be danced to. In some situations, the first type feels more 'right', and in others, the second fits better. I am busy teaching two 'African' songs to my choir, and I never even entertained the possibility of notmoving to them. For some of the choristers, however, the possibility of having to move and sing simultaneously is terrifying, and a physical struggle. One issue is, of course, that that choir are used to holding their music in front of them as they sing, and that makes moving difficult, if not impossible. I have always had difficulty holding music while I sing. I develop a sore back, and battle for control of my voice when I have music in front of me. When I was in Argentina with the Wits choir, I realised for the first time just how much I do move. Even when I am austensibly standing still, I tap my foot, move my head, sway from side to side, and even bend my knees and back in time to, or in sympathy with, the music. But last night, at the UJ rehearsal, the choir were very still. And my own choir stand very still. The Drakensberg Boys' Choir, on the other hand, move constantly. they sway and bob constantly, and even music that isn't choreographed (as much of their music of all styles is), is hardly still. Singing is such a physical thing. Music is such a physical thing. One of the flute students in this music department moves constantly as she plays, and thinking about it, so do most of the solo musicians I know. And yet, for some people, movement and singing are worlds apart, and difficult to link together. Is dance extraneous to the musical performance? Why do we put such an emphasis on standing and sititng in rehearsals? why do I start every rehearsal with stretching and moving exercises? Why have western choirs traditionally moved so little? Is the text I am working with sound or the whole performance? That last question was really answered for me by choristers bringing what I have hitherto referred to as "extra-musical" features into their discussions of choirs. I some contexts, the issue is the sound, and in others, it is the whole performance. But the fact that the whole performance can influence the sound makes it relevant.

two choirs

Last night brought something of an incongruous experience, as I attended half each of two choir practices. The first was the recently combined choir, who I visited in the capacity of researcher, and the second was a choir that I sing in. The first choir had a camp over the weekend, and were seeing eachother again as a choir for the first time since the camp. The mood was positive and excited, and the tension from the first rehearsal, while still tangible, is diminishing. During the rehearsal, the I joined in the warm-up tentatively from the corner where I was standing, and then went and sat on the end of a row of Sopranos to follow the score when they began rehearsing music. I find when I'm in the situation, the sensations of singing, and of being so close to the sound has a euphoric effect on me. It almost doesn't matter what is being sung, I just want to join in, and I enjoy the experience of singing, and of listening. But my capacity to listen critically is, i think, diminished. I don't always hear 'timbre', or 'intonation', or 'articulation,' untill I listen to the recording at home. The thing about the experience of the rehearsals, though, is that I am remembering why I started singing in choirs in the first place. I know it won't always feel that way, but there is something in the experience that is pleasantly addictive. Perhaps it's really as simple as all that. Perhaps the reason young South Africans sing is choirs is the same reason anyone sings at all. It is physically pleasurable.

The rehearsal that I attended afterwards, though, was far less pleasant, and in fact quite stressful. There is a lot of in-fighting going on with that choir, and that reached a head last night, but perhaps as a result of all of that, the music wasn't the central issue. The physical pleasure of singing is far outshadowed by the discomfort of the situation, and while I still enjoy the sound of the music, and the sensation of using my voice and my body in that way, there is no euphoria. It just reminded me how important the situation and the people involved in the experience are.

Lord, make us instruments of Thy peace:

Lord, make us instruments of Thy peace:
Just felt like I needed this here. It's worth reading, no matter how well you know it.

oneworldbooks.

oneworldbooks.
My first publication! at last.

Mail & Guardian Online: University lectures resume after protest

Mail & Guardian Online: University lectures resume after protest
An article on the protesting at the University of Johannesburg, with links to earlier articles