Tag Archive for 'Berkeley local singing'

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Forty four

Jeremy sat back down in the bass section after leading no. 547 Granville, and whispered to me, “Boy, we sound good today.” We did sound good; there were a lot of us; more precisely, when I counted I discovered that there were forty four of us: 19 tenors, 8 trebles, 7 altos, and 10 basses. And though there were quite a few new singers, there were lots of experienced singers, too.

I had never heard that many singers in All Saints Chapel. It can feel a little cavernous when there are fewer than 20 singers in that space; we sit way back in one end of the long cruciform building, and between that and the high peaked ceiling, it can feel as though the building is swallowing most of the sound. (This may be why we sometimes over-sing, pushing our voices to the point where we sing out of tune.) But with 44 people, it sounded very good indeed: it was loud, but not overwhelming; and there was just enough echo and reverberation to fill out the sound in a very satisfying manner.

I hope this upwards attendance trend continues. Having large numbers of people does mean that each person gets to lead fewer songs (which, though it does bother others, is quite fine with me personally). But having large numbers of people also means that newcomers are supported by many more experienced singers, and that newcomers don’t feel as exposed if they make mistakes. Since one of the most important functions of a local singing is to help newcomers to learn how to sing, I would love to have us averaging 50 singers a week.

That big bass sound

Another night of large attendance: just before the break I counted 32 singers total, with 17 in the tenor section, 7 altos, 5 basses, and 4 trebles. Of the 31 singers present, about half were new singers: we handed out 16 loaner books, only one of which went to an experienced singer who had forgotten their own book.

Even with all the new singers, the class sounded very good again this week. I especially liked the bass section tonight. The five of us who were present tend to come pretty regularly, and we have come to some tacit agreements on the way we’ll sound, e.g., on fuguing entrances we hit the first and third beats pretty hard, and we pretty much know who’s going to take which choice notes. Above all, we stay very much in tune with each other except for some minor ornamentation (and David does most of the ornamentation).

Because we know each other pretty well, and because we are so good about staying in tune, we sometimes achieve the bass sound I like best. I don’t quite know how to describe that sound. It’s big and warm and it supports all the higher voices, but that doesn’t really say what it sounds like. In some ways it’s similar to a certain kind of mountain dulcimer — I played mountain dulcimer pretty seriously for about ten years, and sometimes I would tune one of the drones down to the D below middle C, and it would produce a deep, insistent, buzzing, nasal sound — that’s kind of like the bass sound I prefer in a Sacred Harp singing.

Even though I can’t adequately describe the sound, I can tell you what it feels like to be in the middle of that sound. Tonight it felt like I was in the middle of this wave of sound that every once in a while lifted up into the upper notes of our range, then sank back down into the lowest notes, wave on wave of sound that carried me inexorably along, an ocean of sound. This is why I love singing bass (not that I have a choice; my voice is only capable of singing bass); I simply don’t get that same feeling from higher voices.

An evolving sound

When we were driving home after tonight’s singing, Carol, Will, and I all commented on how large the singing was. I counted 34 singers just before the break (14 tenors, 7 trebles, 7 altos, and 6 basses); and even though many of the newer singers left after the break, a few of our more experienced singers arrived, which meant we still had 25 singers after the break. Carol said that it was nice for new singers like herself, since it is easier to follow along with that many people. Will said that he had been to all-day singings that were smaller than that.

And tonight’s class sounded as good as a good, small all-day singing. Will and I got into a discussion of why tonight’s class sounded so good: singers were accenting appropriately, tempos were a bit quicker and didn’t slow down during a tune, intonation was good, etc. And we talked a little about the evolving sound of the Berkeley weekly singing. I pointed out that over the past year, we lost the majority of the founders of the Berkeley weekly singing — they have moved away, or have taken on other commitments — and with that loss, I have felt that the singing has been somewhat musically adrift. Tonight, for the first time in quite a while, I felt like we had gotten back to the Berkeley sound. Will has been singing in Berkeley longer than have I, and he thought that I might be right.

Remembering a singer

At tonight’s Other Book Singing, I presented Prospect Hill, and dedicated it to Dominic Zeigler, the singer who died suddenly in January at age 23. By coincidence, Dominic’s parents had come to the singing. The class gave a good sensitive reading of the tune.

More moving for me was the moment when Carl stood up just before the break to lead the tune that Dominic led at the last Golden Gate All-Day Singing, 448 “The Grieved Soul.” Carl invited Dominic’s parents to stand in the center of the hollow square with him, and we all sang to them. Standing in the hollow square can be a healing experience, and I hope they found it so; in any case, the class sang very well indeed, and it was a moving tribute to a singer.

Caroline had made it to the memorial service for Dominic. She brought the booklet of songs and poems from that service, including some of Dominic’s own poems and some of his favorite songs, and she passed it around during the break.

I’m glad we all had the time this evening to remember a nice man, and a good singer.

Brevity

At the Other Book Singing this evening, I presented one new tune. The first stanza of the poem was set to music by Abraham Wood in 1800 (re-published in 2003 in the Norumbega Harmony, and recorded by His Majestie’s Clerks on “Early American Choral Music,” vol. II). I tracked down the original poem online, found three more stanzas that I liked, and set the poem to my own tune.

Tonight’s class gave a good reading of the tune, and at a fairly quick tempo. They easily handled the unusual rhythm in m. 9; though unconventional, that rhythm sounded good enough that I might use it again in another tune. And by the end of the fourth stanza, it sounded to me as though at least half the singers were having fun with the tune — it might even be worth singing this tune again some day.

Brevity. C.M.

Large class, lots of new singers

The Berkeley singing owns perhaps a dozen loaner books. Ten minutes after the regular singing began, we had already loaned out all the loaner books, and people were sharing books with their neighbors. We did have one visiting singer from Michigan, and maybe one of our regular singers forgot to bring their own book; even so, I’d guess that we had fourteen new singers. Of these new singers, I’d guess that ten were brand new and had never been to the Berkeley singing before. Even though we were missing some of our regular singers, just before the break there were more than 30 singers: 7 or so altos, 4 trebles, 12 or more tenors, and 8 basses. (I thought I counted 33 singers, but from where I was sitting it was hard to see everyone.)

Many of the newcomers came for the singing school, which was led by Will Fitzgerald, and which began a half an hour before the regular singing. I was still surprised at the number of newcomers, and I’m not entirely clear why there were so many tonight.

We had enough strong singers that each section sounded good. In fact, the class sounded very good indeed. Partly this was because most of the songs people led were quite familiar to the regular singers, and not all that challenging; you could tell that the regular singers chose songs that the other regulars would know well. Leaders also tended to maintain a moderate or slow tempo; sometimes the Berkeley singing has a tendency to sing at a breakneck tempo, which is great fun but difficult for newcomers.

In short, I thought this would have been a good singing for new singers: a singing school to start off, strong singers in every section, sensitive leaders that made sure that newcomers would be able to sing along. I asked my partner Carol, who has just started singing with us, what she thought. She thought tonight was pretty good, but she asked why we didn’t have something for beginners every week. She reminded me of the way the contradance groups in the Boston area structure their weekly dances: the first half hour of every dance consists of instruction, and dances led at a slow speed, all specifically for beginners; as the evening progresses, the dances get faster and more difficult. Beginners come early, and drop out as the dances get too hard for them; the experienced hardcore dancers (the ones who have little interest in teaching new dancers) arrive late so they don’t have to deal with the stumbling new dancers.

Carol wondered why the Berkeley singing couldn’t do the same thing. Her suggestion has merit. But I suspect that it would be difficult to implement: contradances have a single caller who decides which dances to lead; Sacred Harp singings rotate leaders, and it could be difficult to get everyone on board with the idea that the first half hour of a singing should be easy tunes led slowly. The other possibility would be to designate the half hour before every singing as a time for learning; experienced singers who like to mentor new singers would show up, while the singers who only want to sing and lead fast and difficult tunes could arrive late.

Have other local singings tried to set aside a time for beginners at every singing? Would this idea even work? I just don’t know. But I do know that we’re losing too many of our visitors and new singers — the ones who come once or twice, then never return — and that bothers me.

Tired voices

Not long before the break this evening, we had 27 singers at the regular Berkeley singing. The singing was loud, exuberant, with a very strong tenor section driving the rest of the singing (which is the way it should be). I was sitting next to Alex in the bass section. In between tunes, he turned to me and whispered, “We sound great tonight!” Cynic that I am, I said, “Yes, but how long will it last?” My cynicism proved prophetic: voices sounded fatigued after the break, and with the fatigue not everyone could stay on pitch and we wandered off into unintentional microtonality. Sometimes the Berkeley singing feels like we’re having a competition to see who can sing the loudest, rather than a cooperative venture to raise our voices together in song.

Telegraph Hill

Another in a series of settings of texts from the King James translation of the Bible, this one of Genesis 8.11, when the dove returns to Noah with an olive leaf. By the time I presented this tune, we had about sixteen singers, and the class really seemed to have fun with it.

Telegraph Hill.

After the singing, Will said the problem with this tune is that it goes by so quickly. He’s right that it does go by quickly; it’s only twenty measures long. However, I think many singers really appreciate shorter anthems: you get to have the fun of singing an anthem without the fatigue that can come with a longer anthem. And let’s face it, if you hope to have singers sing a new composition more than once, it has to be manageable and not overwhelming.

This is something of a companion piece to “San Juan Bautista,” which is in the current issue of The Trumpet; maybe they’re part of a suite that I haven’t finished writing yet; maybe a suite of connected tunes is one solution to the problem of how to present longer compositions in a format that singers will want to sing.

The Frighted Hind

The text for this tune, by Isaac Watts, is not particularly subtle, and presents us with bold powerful images. I decided to write a tune that was not particularly subtle to match the text. There’s the obvious leaping of the fearful hart in m. 8 of the treble line; the altos get to represent the frighted hind in the next measure; and the sustained opening chords for “God speaks”; and the blowing wind in m. 4 of the treble line; etc.

Unfortunately, the hemiola figures representing the leaping hart and hind proved to be hard to sing; even with experienced sight readers on both the alto and treble benches, even with the support of a great class, it was difficult. Part of the problem is that it’s a set piece, so there are no additional verses to allow the class to get comfortable with it. Still, it was a lot of fun for me to hear it.

The Frighted Hind.

The Pilgrim’s Happy Lot

The first of three tunes I presented at tonight’s monthly “Other Book Singing” in Berkeley. The delightful text is by Charles Wesley, and appeared in The Southern Harmony with a pleasant three part tune by Rev. Andrew Grambling. My setting of this text is meant to be one of those bouncing uptempo songs with a shout-it-out chorus, that sound best with maybe a hundred people singing it really loudly.

When I presented it today, there were still only about ten people present, but the class seemed to have fun with it. (We had just been singing from the Cooper book, which helped — this tune is more in the style of the Cooper book than the Denson book).

The Pilgrims Happy Lot. 8.8.6.

(I wrote this tune for David, as he recovers from knee surgery.)