My thoughts this week have taken a sombre turn.
On Thursday the Laudantes Consort began rehearsals for Pierre Bartholomée’s Requiem.
Pierre Bartholomée is one of Belgium’s most well-respected contemporary composers. His Requiem was commissioned by Guy Janssens to be the final work in a series of ‘Requiems through the Ages’.
Bartholomée’s Requiem was inspired by the poignant story of a young Rwandan girl who was fostered by a Belgian family during the genocide. At a certain point she left Belgium and went to live with her mother in the United States of America, where, in uncertain circumstances, she was killed. To heart-rending effect, Bartholomée has included in the Requiem fragments of a letter from the girl, written to thank her foster parents for looking after her.
As we rehearse the Requiem further I am sure many subtleties will be revealed that I have not yet fully understood. What it already apparent, however, is the work’s anger at death.
We have to accept death – we have no choice. But we can be angry rather than reconciled. I am reminded of a friend of mine whose father died recently. Although his death was inevitable, he hung on to life to the very last, furious that he had to leave his wife.
The Welsh poet Dylan Thomas put this into words of great strength. Here you can hear him read his poem ‘Do not go gentle into that good night‘.
Yesterday I gathered my courage together and joined in my first ever organized running event : the 15 kilometer Foulées des Flosses round the Forêt de Soignes.
The weather was picture postcard perfection.
As I ran I thought of the parallels with singing :
- First, the nerves just before you begin as you wait for the starter gun – it’s too late to mend anything that may need it and too late to back out…
- Then, controlling your breathing : out, two, three; in, two, three.
- Full body commitment : breathing apparatus, muscle cooperation and mental strength (for those tricky uphill bits).
- Then the kick of achievement as you cross the line, not so different from the high after a successful performance.
- And, of course, the pain the following day… comparable to that end-of-project anticlimax?
Thought of the Week : Long Live Endorphins.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Last weekend I abandoned the family for a quick jaunt to Paris.
After singing in a concert of Palestrina Lamentations on the Saturday night I had a free day in Paris (I was unfettered and alive, for any Joni Mitchell fans).
By bizarre serendipity my friend and colleague Jos Somsen was also singing in Paris the self same weekend. After years of singing early Medieval polyphony together, composed by the so-called Ecole de Notre Dame, we were able to meet at the door of the immense and impressive Notre Dame Cathedral, and wander around in the very acoustic for which Ensemble Ut Sol’s repertory was written about 850 years ago.
A mass was taking place, and there was a large seated congregation in the central body of the church. In the choir was a small but select group that sang from under large clouds of incense. Surrounding the service was a moving throng of tourist paparazzi lapping up against the edges. And us, standing still with our heads down, totally enthralled by the other-worldly Agnus Dei that filled that enormous space.
A little surreal, I thought, but maybe not so different, in its way, from the hustle and bustle of Medieval churchs.
Friday, September 28, 2007
This is me finally setting things in motion…
