"At the limits of audibility"

from a letter to a close friend:

I'm sleeping better now, and yesterday had the joy of singing all day. Why do I feel reluctant before going back to it in the fall, when music is the place ​ -- that country completely without borders --​ where I feel the most sense of "home?" In the morning: Lassus, Pitoni, and John Tavener's "Lord's Prayer;" in the afternoon, Orlando Gibbons and a big anthem by ​Charles Villiers ​Stanford on the same text as one of the Gibbons pieces, "G​lorious ​and Powerful God."

I've included a clip of the Tavener for you.​ The music, almost too simple (which is where its difficulty lies) is marked "At the limits of audibility." We sang it after communion, and it was one of those moments when we sang as one body​. I think everyone was glad to be back together, doing what we do.

During the afternoon rehearsal, as we were singing from the chancel, a visitor came up and stood near the director's podium until we reached the end of one of the Gibbons pieces, and then spoke to the choir - our director seemed pretty put off at first; understandably, he doesn't want rehearsals interrupted by strangers, and usually when someone approaches the chancel while we're rehearsing, they turn out to be unstable, and need to be gently guided away by a verger. This man, though, spoke with authority and understanding.

"I've been listening to you for the past half hour," he said, "and I'm terribly sorry I can't stay for the service at 4, but I have to reboard a tour bus that is leaving soon. I just want to say that what you're doing is extraordinary -- the sound is very very beautiful -- I just walked into the church from the street and never expected to find people here, doing this. And I know: I am a choir director myself, from Switzerland. Thank you, thank you," and then he smiled at us, inclined his head to the choir and nodded to our director, and walked off. I caught a last glimpse of him standing by the side door in the dimness, where he could quickly leave for his bus; he was leaning against a pillar, head back and eyes shut, still listening.

Comments

[John]

Very gentle and soothing thanks

[Rachel Barenblat]

Oh Beth, so beautiful!

I miss choral singing, and hope someday to return to it, perhaps when my life is more spacious and I am no longer home every evening with a small person. (I am always aware that that day will come sooner than I think.)

This story really reaches me today. I am reminded of visiting a cathedral in East Anglia, in the summer of 1995, and hearing their choir practicing, and just sitting in a chair and listening. And the friend-of-a-friend who was showing me around asked why I didn't want to keep going, and I said "because they're singing Duruflé," and stayed there through Ubi Caritas, which is one of my favorite pieces to sing.

[mary]

What a heartening story. You must get such a lift from singing in this choir even though I know it's a huge time commitment. I tried out for the choir in high school and didn't make it. I've always wanted to sing in such a group.

[Roderick Robinson]

Now, at least, you know why you are going back in the Fall. Why you must go back. Apart from meeting my selfish wishes that you do.

"when we sang as one body". In my experience this is far rarer than most people believe. And when it happens in unison the effect is ethereal - the clear primary sound is overlaid by a slower waveform that must represent a lower harmomic (can harmonics be lower?) and which adds an organic (ie, living) element to the combined whole. I don't have any examples of this in choral singing but it happened live in a workshop version of Cosi I saw at the Festival Hall when Ferrando and Guglielmo entered through the auditorium singing Secondate, Aurette Amiche; I was very near the singers at the time.

The only other occasion I know of, also in Cosi, occurs between Janet Baker and Montserrat Caballé doing Soave Sia Il Vento in the Colin Davis CD. Obviously it must be far harder to achieve this thrilling effect with a choir and I envy you the experience.

[Ellena]

"Why do I feel reluctant...."
Maybe because the time has come for you to be a listener and this is why you caught this last glimpse of him.

[Beth]

Glad you liked it, John.

Rachel, thanks for your story. So many people come in and out of the cathedral all the time, mostly gawking as if it's a museum, or acting like we're strange animals in a zoo. I really appreciate those who sit down and listen for a while. And I hope you get to go back to choral singing before too long, you obviously love it!

Yes, Mary, the benefits outweigh the difficulties of making the time. I don't think high school choirs should have tryouts -- too many people get discouraged before they've even had a chance to learn! In Montreal there's a women's choir that doesn't require auditions or music reading - it's been a huge thing for a friend of mine who thought she "wasn't good enough to sing in a group." They all learn, and it's great!

RR: thanks for the stories, and you're right, performances where a choral group really comes together are rare. And there's a difference between excellent, even perfect, ensemble singing and the emotional/musical connectedness I think we're both talking about.

Ellena, I'm actually such a restless listener and concert-goer much of the time: for me the joy has always been in the making of music, especially with others. When I give up choir singing I'll probably find someone to play duets with or something. My reluctance in the fall is simply due to the huge time commitment and not wanting to give up my free summer Sundays. But as soon as I get back to it, I'm always glad. You're right, though, that a time will come when I don't want to, or can't, do it any longer, and maybe then I'll become a better listener, like that man.

[Duchesse]

A wonderful moment. Of course he knew the etiquette he would breach, and took the risk to thank you.

An acquaintance who is here on sabbatical is a music teacher in a primary school. I'm encouraging him to start a pickup choir, a deliberately casual one. People love to sing and I hope there is an opportunity for all. (The model is Toronto's Choir!Choir!Choir! whom you can see doing their heartfelt thing on YouTube. It is an entirely different choir than yours, yet I like it very much.)

[Hattie]

I love reading about this and am quite jealous. We do have a good amateur chorus in town, but my hearing loss means music does not have the same impact on me that it once did, so I would not get much pleasure out of belonging to it. Performances are OK, but it just is not the same as when I could hear normally.
Enjoy it while you can! I never thought the worst thing about hearing loss would be losing my love of music.