A pact with myself

Let's start with a touch of cynicism.  At one point earlier this week, I found myself uttering, "to become what you want to be, you have to model the behaviours of that person".  At which point, I cringed, buried my head in my hands, apologised to my colleagues and groaned, "Oh, God!  I sound like a psychologist!".

For two days, I was on a safety leadership course at work.  When you strip away the cringe-making jargon and the trainer-speak ("Let's begin a conversation about safety"), it was an interesting, thought provoking two days.  Being me, a lot of the thoughts it provoked had little to do with safety, something to do with work and a lot to do with my own personal goals.  I kept that train of thought simmering underneath, returning time and again to those fateful words, "to become what you want to be, you have to model the behaviours of that person".  What person do I want to be?  How do I get there?

What do those words mean, anyway?  "To become what you want to be, you have to model the behaviours of that person."  I decided it meant that, if you wanted to be a successful student, you had to do what successful students do, i.e. schedule and keep study sessions even when you didn't want to.  If you want to be a fit, healthy person, then you had to make exercise a priority.  To be a success at anything, you have to work out what the successful people do and then copy that behaviour - it's not enough to coast along or to expect others to carry you with them.  To be the best you can be, you have to do what the best do.  It doesn't mean a 46 year old couch potato will become an Olympic marathon runner, but it does mean that she'll become the best running version of herself that she can be.

Eventually, I decided to make a pact with myself.  I have neither the time nor the energy to tackle all my daydreams goals at once, so I have picked three.  For June only, I will focus on my singing (as well as a concert on 16th June, I have my re-audition in four weeks), learning French and the so-called "Nebulous Fitness Goal".  So, starting Monday here is what I'll do:-

1. I will rehearse for 30 minutes a day, focussing on the concert pieces (Brahm's German Requiem and Phillips' Sea and Stars), since not only do I need to know them very well for the concert BUT they'll form the basis of my reaudition.  Official choir rehearsals will count as a singing session.
2. Spend 10 minutes a day using the French flash-cards app on my phone to learn some vocabulary.  I'll write a review once I've played with it a bit.
3. Every morning before work, I'll do the 20-minutes Move More workout.  That will entail getting up at 5.30am but as I'm usually awake by then, I'll just need to move my butt out of bed.

- Pam

Monday Meanderings

This morning was a contrast of brilliant sunshine and bitterly cold winds.  The ice made a feather and fan pattern on the Toy's windows before I scraped it off.  At 7.30am, the weather bulletin report the temperature as -2C in Central London.  They don't quote wind-chill here but I reckon it's effect is to drop the temperature by at least another 5 degrees.

It's days like these when you remember that Britain is an island and nowhere is more than fifty miles from the sea.  The air is damp, driving the cold right through you. It's a windswept island, too, with icy air blowing in from the Atlantic.

The sunlight is deceptive.  There is some warmth in it, but not enough to heat the air.  You can only feel it if you are out of the wind.  And yet, at every opportunity, I turn my face to greet the sun.  If this was ancient Greece, then I would worship Apollo.  As an Australian, I am a child of the sun.  My earliest memories are of long, hot summer days. 

Today I understand all those ancient ceremonies to welcome the return of Spring.  


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Another economists joke:

Is there any other profession where you can be wrong most of the time, but still be considered an expert?

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Tonight, the choir started rehearsing for our next concert on 22nd May.  Our conductor's verdict on the African Sanctus is that it was too loud (David Fanshawe got a bit too carried away with playing with the levels).  However, he was really, really pleased with our performance, particularly as we caught up when the Soprano Soloist skipped a page!

Probably the next choir priority is finding a bigger local venue (something I mentioned at last AGM).  We turned away 40 people on Saturday night and could easily have sold 500 tickets instead of the 350 that is the church's capacity. Our next concert will be in a much larger venue, the Cadogan Hall in Chelsea, which seats 700. It is, however, a much more expensive venue, so we can only afford it once a year.

- Pam

In the Presence of Genius

Last night, I sang in a performance of David Fanshawe's African Sanctus.   I If you are unfamiliar with the African Sanctus,  there is a small sampler available on the website - it's well worth a listen.

My introduction to the African Sanctus is probably the most unusual introduction to a Latin mass that you'll ever have.  In 1984, it was performed at the Perth Intervarsity Choral Festival, just before I joined the Melbourne University Choral Society.  At a party, three or four months later, someone put on a recording of the African Sanctus and, suddenly,  I was surrounded by a swirl of singing and dancing choristers!  I was enchanted.  And hooked.

I had to wait five years before I got the chance to sing it at the Melbourne Minifest 1989.   As far as I am concerned, it is the best piece of modern choral music written in my lifetime.  There is nothing else like it.  It is almost impossible not to dance to the Finale, when the Sanctus is sung repeatedly across 8 pages of score.   And when you have 150 voices on a stage in the Robert  Blackwood Hall plus drums, it can blow your mind away.

Last night was different but incredibly special in its own way.  First the differences - in 1989, I sang first First Soprano, right at the top of my register (C# anyone?); last night, I sang second Second Soprano, partially because someone had to do it and partially because my absolute top notes appear to have been left behind in Australia so these days I sing Second Sop (I struggle to get a B now).  Swapping parts when you know a piece is one of the hardest things I have ever done.  At one point last night, I gave up - I couldn't hear the Seconds (it was my turn to be rotated to the back row) - so I went with the part I knew best.  Hello, Firsts, here I come!

The other main difference was the venue.  Robert Blackwood Hall is a big, purpose built concert venue seating nearly 1500.   Last night's church is a 1920's barn-shaped building, seating 350.  I think (and DH agrees) it was overpowered by the music.

And the final difference was the choir size.  ECS has between 80 and 90 active members.  Last night, I think we'd have been lucky if we got 60 on stage.  I'm not sure if the pressure of the rehearsal timetable (8, I think) got to some of the old biddies or they didn't like the music.  Certainly, it's not an easy piece to rehearse because of all the interspersed tapes of African music.  Oh, and did I mention that even Second Second Soprano is high?  As in top B high?

But the thing that makes last night special is that it was very much David Fanshawe's performance.  Not only was the composer present - he gave an introductory talk about the African Sanctus - he'd spent the day work-shopping with us and ran the sound desk for the concert.  All day yesterday, during breaks in the singing, he'd throw in comments drawing out one part or another to change the balance, explaining why certain pieces sound the way they do and demonstrating the sound he wanted from us (as well as his normal singing voice (tenor?) he has the most amazingly operatic falsetto soprano).  He also gave us the history behind the movements, explaining where he was when he composed them and what inspired them.

It was a privilege to work with David Fanshawe yesterday.  He's quite a modest man, self-effacing and a little bit shy.  And he's a bit eccentric ("mad as a spoon" as DH put it).  But, when it comes to his music, he is such a big presence.  He was really pleased with our performance last night, taking his bow last night with a big smile and then telling us "well done!".  Afterwards, he kindly signed my score.

- Pam

Monday ramblings

I'm sick.  Again.  This time, it's laryngitis.  (Oh, great.  I have a concert in two weeks.  Fanshawe's African Sanctus.)  No cold symptoms, just a sore throat that started on Friday.  Thank heaven for sick leave - I've taken today off (croaked out a message on my boss' voice-mail this morning).  May or may not go in tomorrow.

I'm more worried about the approaching concert than missing work.  We've only got 4 rehearsals to go, so I really need to attend tonight. But I shouldn't go, since I don't want to pass this onto someone-else and I can't sing a note at present.  However, I feel a bit guilty missing another rehearsal (we are only allowed to miss two rehearsals per concert and this is my second).   At least I've sung the African Sanctus before.

In the meantime, I've almost finished the Baby Surprise Jacket.  Since I've never seen one in the flesh, it required a small leap of faith to follow instructions when I couldn't visualise the results.  It's such a puzzle figuring out which seam goes where. But now that I've only got a dozen rows to go, I can finally see how it fits together.  It's amazing.  I'll photograph it when it's off the needles (before assembly) and you'll see what I mean.

On the garden front, I've just  placed my orders for this year's vegetables:  seed potatoes, onion sets, shallot sets, garlic bulbs, tomato seeds, jalapeno seeds, runner beans, and butternut squash seeds.  I have some seeds leftover from last year, which I'm going to try before buying replacements:  broad beans, sweetcorn, courgettes/zucchini, pak choi, bell peppers and broccoli.  The broad beans are already in their starter pots - I planted them two weeks ago and six out of the 9 have emerged.  Maybe, this year, I can grow a "Victory Garden".

- Pam

Sing as you mean to go on

Guess what I just found? A clip of a choral concert I sang in last year at the Cadogan Hall. We're singing Handel's Messiah. Enjoy.




Did you spot me? I'm third from the left at the back. You can just see a blond head behind me.

Saturday was our latest concert, Orff's Carmina Burana. The performance was amazing and I had a ball. Sadly, no recordings have come to light so far but, if I can find one, I'll post it.

- Pam

Dear Mr Bernstein

Tonight my choir will be singing your Chichester Psalms. I'm really looking forward to it, but I have a few problems with lyrics to your score. It's in Hebrew and I'm a Jew, surely I shouldn't have problems?

Please tell me who did the transliteration of the Hebrew into the Roman alphabet. It's the first time I've sung in Hebrew for over 20 years, but I'm sure this is the first time I've seen a chai written as an "h" with a dot underneath. Why haven't you used the more traditional "ch", as in the Scottish word "loch"? You use it some of the time, maybe 20% of the chai's are written that way. As a result, most of my colleagues are singing anachnu as "anahu", which is totally wrong. (Anachnu translates as "our".)

Also, you have totally screwed up the stresses of the words, particularly in the middle of the first movement. You're a Jew. You must know that Hebrew frequently stresses the second to last syllable of a word, just like Italian does. And yet, when you get to the bit that goes bar'chu sh'mo, the stresses are all in the wrong place making it really difficult to sing and make sense of singing. Why? Did you expect your non-Jewish choristers to just wing it? If it's hard for me (and at least I know what the words should sound like), it's even harder for them.

Finally (and this isn't your fault), do you know how hard it is to not sing the very last verse as:

Hineh
Ma tov, umah
naim. Shevet achim gam yahad.*

to the theme from the Flintstones? Every time we've rehearsed it, I drive home singing that.

- Pam




* "Behold how good and how pleasant it is for breathren to dwell together in unity" per my score.

Bits'n'Pieces

I still haven't heard from Cleckheaton. In fact, the email I submitted via the form on their website bounced - the pillocks haven't set up an account for the email address it was sent to! Eventually, I found an email address: enquiries@auspinners.com.au and sent it there.

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For the last two years, I've been saving up to purchase some knitting designing software, but I'm yet to make the leap. I want something that does everything including slotting in cables, lace, etc, and I am prepared to pay for it (hence the saving up bit). Right now though, I'd be willing to settle for something simpler if I could get it to do what I want - I want to design a bolero or shrug to knit out of the 1000 metres of pink lace weight I was given as a reward for subscribing to a knitting magazine. I thought a lacy shrug would work - I don't do shawls or wraps. I don't have the kind of lifestyle any more that demands wearing lots of ball gowns (thus providing an excuse to wear said wrap). Anyway, I'm busty. Anything that hangs on/from my bust makes me look pregnant.

Tama, I know you have Sweater Wizard. I don't remember from the demo I downloaded ages ago, but would it let me design a shrug?

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Did I ever tell you I "collect" yarn shops? They are such a rarity here that I always make a note of them. In the past 4 months, I've found a new yarn shop in Rochester (Annie's on the high street), Leominster and Hay on Wye. If there is nothing else on my "I want to knit that" list, I'll purchase a skein of sock yarn so at least I've given them some business. (DH tells me that doing so doesn't break my yarn diet since it's purchased in a good cause.)

Yesterday, I had to be up in central London. My choir was performing Verdi's Requiem last night and we spent the afternoon in rehearsals with the orchestra and soloists. The venue was about a mile from the newish I Knit London shop. I've been on their mailing list since Fluff told me they're hosting the Yarn Harlot in September (Yes. I have tickets.). Anyway, I took the opportunity to check out their shop on my way to rehearsals.

They have made really good use of the space in what is technically quite a small shop. Physically, it's about the same size as my living room (approximately 19 feet by 12), with a couple of couches forming a cozy sitting area on one side of the door, the till/desk backing onto one of the couches, yarn in cubes line the walls, books across the back, a table and chairs in the back half for classes. It doesn't feel crowded or cramped.

I was really impressed by the range of yarns they stock: Wensleydale Longwool; Cornish Organic Wool; springy Icelandic wool; and the legendary Shetland wool by Reynolds (which I didn't believe was sold in the UK at all!). They had Opal and Regia, plus some more exotic sock yarns from America (exotic for me). There were yarns from other small British producers, but I don't remember their names.

I could have spent a fortune; instead, I contented myself with a couple of skeins of silk lace-weight (at £7/skein), some cotton to make this from Knitty as a present for a friend (if I have enough yarn, I may modify it to add sleeves), and a skein of sock yarn. I promised myself that I will go mad at the I Knit London Show in September.

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The concert went well despite some of the quirks of our current conductor. It was his last concert with us (he's retiring). I'd feel sadder about that if he'd spent some time enhancing the musicality of his choristers - he doesn't even believe in warming up! Also I have it on reliable authority that the fact he gave us cues to come in last night was almost revolutionary.

I was about 80% happy with my performance: my inner musician awoke sometime on Wednesday evening (we rehearsed then, too), and I began to feel the count of the music from the accompaniment. That is a skill I have missed for a long time. And my "pitch a note off anything" is coming back, too. My negativity comes from knowing that I wasn't projecting properly - something that could have been alleviated if we'd done vocal warm-ups prior to the rehearsals and performance. I felt my voice catching in my throat several times and made a concious attempt to lift it "up" (hard when you're racing at full tilt through the Dies Irae). But we had a good sing, got a standing ovation from what looked like a sell-out crowd, and DH loved it.

- Pam

I was a musician once

Once upon a time, I was a musician. I did singing exams. I could count my way through hundreds of bars of music, take my pitch from a note played by the violins and come in right on cue. You know that difficult note in the middle, I was the one who pitched it for the rest of my vocal section. I was good - not soloist material but a damn good chorister.

Today, I had to confront how far I have fallen. Today was my audition for the choral society. I sang "Hopelessly devoted to you" badly, struggled to pitch some scales and couldn't hold 3 B's in a row for the sight singing test. My voice was all over the place. Basically, I had to beg for a place in the choir. I'm in; I'm down for Second Soprano (once upon a time, I sang first - even though I'm naturally a mezzo soprano, I stretched my upper register to hit the high notes).

I have to work on my voice and my musicianship. I have to relearn how to count music, how to feel the beats in the bar. My top notes have vanished. Even my breathing is screwed - my capacity to support my voice gets exhausted after half an hour.

Singing lessons would be good but aren't in the budget right now; the only singing teacher I know doesn't play the piano either, so you have to pay for both her and an accompanist. My big problem is that I'm not a pianist. I have a piano thanks to Kim and I can pick out a few notes, but I can't play and I can't accompany myself. I need help. The internet is a great resource, but there are huge gaps in what you can do with it. I know websites where you can download sheet music and players that will accompany your practice (e.g. www.musicnotes.com); I know websites where you can buy backing tracks but what I don't know is where I can get scales that I can read and sing along to while they're being played. All suggestions gratefully received.

- Pam

Who the Hell is Phil??

One of the benefits about using my own score to perform Handel's Messiah again is that I get to revisit all the annotations I made last time. And the time before. And there are a lot of them: ranging from "Concentrate", to "Watch Score!", to notes circled, underlined, etc. They're useful and, sometimes, intriguing. I know, for instance, that I'm still struggling with hitting a note in the middle of "And he shall purify the Sons of Levi", where instead of going up high at the end of a run, the soprano line goes down. Yes. That's right. Down. Unheard of!

Some of the notes that said "Look at Andrew" or "John!!!", but most intriguing were the ones that said "Phil". Who the hell, was Phil???

"John" was easy to remember: John Argyle, my first conductor at the university choral society. We even had a song for him, sung to the tune of "Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner":

"Maybe it's because I'm a chorister
That I love John Argyle.
Love his woolly beard and his spectacles.
Yea, verily, he's got style.
I get a funny feeling inside of me
Every time I see him smile.
Oh, maybe it's because I'm a chorister
That I love John Argyle"

"Andrew" wasn't that difficult either. He conducted the next choir I joined. (He also used to play the organ for my school's biannual services at St Paul's Cathedral in Melbourne, when I sang in the school choir.)

But who the hell was "Phil"? All last week, I was wracking my brain trying to remember. I remembered being conducted by Bevan, and Barry, David (a.k.a. "Frodo", he had hairy feet), another John (he was the Music Master at the Boy's School - I was at the Girls' but sang in their choir - I always had to fight myself not to call him "Sir"). But no Phil.

The "D'oh!" moment came on Monday night when I was driving home from rehearsal. I can't believe it hadn't occurred to me. I'd spent the entire week moaning to people that I couldn’t remember who "Phil" was. And yet, it was so simple. And I was being such an airhead. What was the name of the choir that Andrew had conducted me in? The Melbourne Philharmonic Choir" a.k.a. "the Melbourne Phil". D'oh!

- Pam

All excited!

I've been meaning to write this since last Monday. Life got in the way.

Last Monday night, I did something I haven't done in over 18 years - I got out my copy of Handel's Messiah (Watkins Shaw edition), turned to page 227 and sang! Yes, folks, I have joined a serious choir.

At least, I hope I have. If they let me in after the audition. And God knows what I'll sing for that. I'm tempted by "There were Shepherds Abiding in the Fields", movements 14 - 16 of the Messiah, but I haven't sung that since I left Australia.

Oh, how I've missed singing seriously. Once upon a time, I sang with some of Australia's leading amateur choirs and in the largest choral festival in the Southern Hemisphere, the (almost) annual Australian Intervarsity Choral Festival. I've sung at the Sydney Opera House. I've sung in the Melbourne Concert Hall. I've sung with four major Australian symphony orchestras. And I've sung the Messiah in concert at least 6 times with two separate choirs, including on Australian national radio (ABC FM).

It was weird singing the Messiah again. On the one hand, I hadn't looked at the music since December 1988. Some of the things we sang, I didn't remember at all until I heard the opening bars of the movement - then something woke up in the back of my brain and I was away. (OK, ok, I know Handel's style is such that you have a 70% chance of guessing the next bar correctly without looking at it, but even so....)

The only downside is that this choir doesn't warm up. I asked about that. Their conductor (? our conductor ?) doesn't believe in it. He is retiring in the summer, so hopefully his replacement will warm up our voices. I know make a difference.

We rehearse from 7.45pm until 9.45pm, so I better sign off now. It's a 20 minute drive.

- Pam