I have to give you a run-down on tonight's concert, which was a really great evening - for the right reasons and the wrong!
First of all, the church choir was supposed to turn out to sing at the beginning, middle and end, but as they gradually started to back out, one by one, we tried augmenting the choir with other people - parents of pupils and friends - whom we knew could at least sing in tune. I distributed the music round them last night so they could practise their parts at home, and we planned a half-hour's run-through before the concert...
Well - it's 'sore throat' time of year, and the choir members reckoned they were doing enough with the Carol Service tomorrow night, and when 6.45 came, it became obvious that we were in trouble. We had two sopranos - a reluctant parent and a friend of the Rector's wife, two altos - self (who can't sing) and the Rector's wife, two tenors - my adult pupil who bogged up the Grade 3 exam and an aged ex-cathedral tenor, who now has a range of a minor third on every note (plus lots of volume and a very big ego) - and one bass - the Rector.
The Sussex Carol would have been okay if we'd been remotely familiar with the repeat signs and the words. In the Bleak Mid-winter was never going to be okay, and Good King Wenceslas really wasn't half bad. So, since the programmes were printed, we decided that we weren't going to be beaten by the church choir not weighing in...
We then realised, with time at a premium, that the person who was in charge of making the tea at the end was one of the ones who had a sore throat, so the Rector's wife started flapping and went to charge down to the choir rooms where the kettles, etc, are kept - down an old stone stairway to the bowels of the church - and took a tumble...and I shouldn't trivialise about this, because she had to be taken to hospital with concussion and a suspected broken shoulder and there was still no news of her by the end of the evening... but we were then left with only one alto - me - who can't sing. The Rector (her husband) kindly decided that we shouldn't be left without a bass, so her friend - half of the sopranos - went to hospital with her instead, leaving the Reluctant Parent as the only soprano.
Well...mortification is not the word...you have never heard worse. Self and Rector were the only ones who came in at the right place for The Sussex Carol - remember that I can't sing, and can't even guarantee hitting the right note, and none of us could remember which bits were men only and which bits were women only. And we were simply introduced as "The Choir". The audience thought we were a choir...
In the Bleak Mid-winter really doesn't bear thinking about. I decided that singing alto on my own was not a runner, so I went for the soprano line, leaving out anything above a D - and, more often than not, even leaving out the D. The giggling started in the second verse, and I could not contain myself. I was in hysterics - knowing all the while that amongst other things I had a flute accompaniment coming up that I had never yet got through without a mistake, plus the Italian Concerto - and my hands were cold. Anyway, inspired by the nudging from my left, I got myself together for the last verse, and "gi......ve my hea....rt would actually have been okay if anyone other than me had held the long note for the right length of time. The fact that it wasn't the RIGHT note I was holding is hardly relevant.
ANYWAY - nothing channels the adrenalin to the right places like laughter, and the flute piece was
great - even the accompaniment! The flautist, who's a piano pupil of mine, was a finalist in the N.I. Primary School Musician of the Year competition (for his flute-playing), and he played Rutter's Prelude, from Suite Antique. The church has the best accoustics I've ever known, and there was a resounding round of applause.
Fairly soon afterward came me with the Italian Concerto, which went fairly well - on the whole. But it was too darned fast. I did mean to take Steve's advice and look at a silent digital metronome before I started, but I forgot the damned thing when I was leaving the house. I'd been practising it at 100 crotchets per minute and hadn't skipped a beat for about a week of practice, but I must have launched off at about 115 - 120. Silly....
Having said that, it all went swimmingly till the last page - and I don't know how many times I've been told to 'beware of last pages', as I'm inclined to relax too soon. So I bogged up within sight of the finishing line, at a place where I've never bogged up before. But I just quickly back-tracked slightly, keeping it in time, and got on with it, and I'm assured that no one would have noticed if they hadn't been really familiar with it, and if I hadn't made a point of apologising for the fact! What a moron...
The next eventful event was a rather enthusiastic rendition of La Poupee de Marcella. With the last chord resounding round the neighbourhood, one of the big candles on the piano took a nose-dive - throwing wax all over the piano -
and into the piano, since the lid was open (U3 - good instrument..)
And all over the floor - several thousand pounds worth of red carpet that goes from the front door right up the aisle - no idea why, as the parquet floor underneath is beautiful.
So that's why I'm so late typing this blow-by-blow account. It being Sunday tomorrow, we couldn't leave wax all over the floor till the morning, so I've been ironing the carpet to tranfer the wax onto paper for four hours...
But no regrets. I still can't stop laughing about 'the choir'. I stood up before Good King Wenceslas and refused to sing unless some more members of the audience joined 'the choir', and the addition of four new members made a phenomenal difference. And we had a great rendition of Pachelbel's Canon in D from a violinist friend, who's fantastic, with organ accompaniment. Her tone is superb and it filled the whole church with warmth. It's never been my favourite piece of music, but it really struck a chord tonight!