Music of Our Time

I am always fascinated at the sounds of music of our own time. Gloriae  Dei Cantores is preparing for the upcoming programs which include works of William Walton, Howard Hanson, and Zoltan Kodaly - all of whom were extremely active as composers, educators, and conductors for a large portion of the 20th century. They have a "voice" unlike each other and  have unmistakable hallmarks to their writing. But, what is so amazing is that all of them managed - to some degree instinctively - to use traditional methods and musical colors in a new way at a time when many other composers were abandoning any sense of traditional composition! They found ways to invite the "common man" into their music,offering  an extraordinary experience with a musical language common to the day while leaping to the future. Hope you can join us to share in that experience!

Pentecost

A festive celebration of creativity and new life, remembering the first indwelling of the Holy Spirit, rushing winds, tongues of fire - what's not to like?  If I am honest with myself the fresh unpredictability that Pentecost unleashed makes me slightly nervous.  Sure,  when I'm calling the shots, or directing the creativity, I'm all for it.  But when the rudder is another pair of hands (which it really should be) - I'm not so sure.  Come Holy Spirit - Come Holy Comforter - give me the grace to let go.

To watch a lovely video called "A Gift and a Prayer for Pentecost" - click on the link below:
http://youtu.be/PcS_bshe7tY

The Little Things

In our concerts April 26 and 27, we sang a set of Four songs by Edvard Grieg.  The music and text, for choir and baritone solo, are a beautiful melding of folk melodies and of religious psalms and poetry.  The setting certainly has it's challenges - the tuning is crucial as Grieg's harmonies melt in and out, not to mention pronouncing the Norwegian correctly.  But the interesting thing is, if the details are in place, the piece sounds amazingly simple.  Because in the truest sense, it is.  As one Grieg scholar said "In each of the four psalms, Grieg allows himself to receive his key inspiration from the texts, letting them guide his forms. As a result, he lends their performance a natural, idiomatic quality..."  I was struck by how many people commented on the Grieg after the concert.  It's the kind of music that, in its simplicity, seeps into your heart almost without you noticing.  The kind of tune you could go away humming.  And it made reminded me, sometimes, it's all about the little things.  In music, in life - it's not always the thing that seems the most impressive that leaves a lasting impression.  

Well-tuned Instrument

I've been thinking recently about the voice as an instrument.  We all have vocal regimes in GDC and we each know what we need to do to warm-up, rest, diet, exercise, etc.....  

Like any athlete or musician.  But what you can't do with your voice is shoot a scolding look at your vocal chords when a wrong note or bad sound comes out - like you might with a squeaky reed or stuck valve.  You're it - there's nothing else to blame.  It's one of the most challenging things about singing.  My voice is like pulling-up my insides and saying to everyone "here, have a look".  And sometimes it's not pretty.  But isn't that what we respond to in a singer who moves us.  Not that their execution is flawless (although accuracy in the technical makes way for greater emotional impact|) but the willingness to share themselves - just as they are - through their voice-what the text has said to them and what the harmonies have taught them.  

Prayer

One of the pieces on the repertoire for this week's concert is Bach's "Jesu, der du meine Seele".  I love Bach - such joy and love in his music, as if he was always carrying a smile inside about some quietly understood truth that he was loved.

The text for the final chorale is a prayer to God, asking for his help not to despair.  He says, when death attacks me, I will trust your goodness until I see you face to face in eternity.  It's beautiful poetry but took on a new level of meaning this week after the bombing in Boston especially and the Texas fertilizer plant explosion.  Here I stood in my beautiful home, singing these words while in these two places, someone had lost a child or a friend, or had had their life changed forever by something destructive.  

Isn't that one of the powerful things about music.  That it can become a prayer for the people - that we singing it, can give it as a gift on behalf of those who need it.  

I think it is no wonder St.Augustine said "To sing is to pray twice"

Bopping

I will admit, music theory is not my favorite thing. A pre-requisite for joining GDC, I grit my teeth and plowed through late nights and repeated tests to audition. And hoped it would be over. It wasn't. But I don't think it was until this week I really (hopefully) had my opinion changed for good. We were working on Herbert Howells' "Te Deum Laudamus". It's a beautiful, thrilling piece with many potential traps - singing to the rhythm rather than the text, over singing... We stopped to discuss what we were actually saying and to speak it once outside of the rhythm. Then we dove back in to singing. But something wasn't working. So someone stopped to say "your subtext is all great, but we're losing it under the unbalanced harmonies and inaccuracies in the chords. That's where the subtext LIVES. So we took it back and went through "bopping"- singing on scat syllables with every note short. There's no sliding by with a slightly out of tune pitch or mis-balanced chord when you do it that way. We combed through that section and cleaned up note by note, balancing the voice parts, centering the pitches - then went back to put the words to it. I got it. You could feel it in the room - now the composer's vision could come through because the sounds he heard and wrote were happening. Time to dust off those theory books.

Awesome Responsibility

We have been preparing Bach's Cantata BWV 78 "Jesu Der du meine Seele" in rehearsals this week, working towards a large concert program next weekend. As we delve more deeply into the intricacies of this work, and the beautiful knitting together of text and music, I am overwhelmed by the awesome responsibility it is to sing a work of this magnitude, and be able to offer it as worship at a time such as this.

The translation for the final Chorale movement, (which is the summation of the Cantata) reads:

Lord, I believe, help my weakness,
Let me never despair;
You, You can make me stronger,

when sin and death assail me.
I will trust in Your goodness,
until I joyfully see
You, Lord Jesus, after the battle
in sweet eternity.

This message is extremely challenging and poignant for us as Nation. The horrific events at the Boston Marathon and the explosions and devastation in Texas have left many of us completely undone...
I pray that those of us singing might do justice to this music with every fiber of ourselves, so that the powerful words of comfort might be a balm to those thousands in shock and anguish around us, and might bring consolation to those personally affected by these tragedies.