Earlier this week, thinking about possible themes for the weekly musings, many possibilities came to mind – the delightful concert by the Ryde Hunters Hill Orchestra which Carlos conducted last Sunday, a stunning cross-cultural concert on Tuesday by The Song Company in the spell-binding acoustic of St Mary’s Cathedral Crypt, and further evidence of the health benefits of choral singing, were all candidates.  However, they were all blown away by last night’s run-through of the complete A German Requiem. 

First full run-throughs are always special, but this one the more so for me  I had managed to carve out an hour during the week to read through the entire text in German and in English, and in doing so had gained a real appreciation of the structure of the whole work – textually and musically.  It’s like an arch.  No’s 1 and 7 are the abutments, anchoring the work on both sides; No’s 2 and 3 are the approach on one side; No’s 5 and 6 are the downward run on the other side, and No 4 is the keystone, slap bang in the middle, without which everything else would fall apart.

After last night, the structure stands out even further.  No 4 (How lovely are thy dwellings fair) is the shortest piece in the work, although for many listeners the most beautiful.  Like the keystone of a bridge, it holds the whole piece together.  It is a perfect link between the two halves of the work; moving from reflections on the transient nature of human existence which we mortals all understand, to affirmation of a permanent resting place in a  world which is inevitably something of a mystery to us.

There are so many moments of pure joy in this work.  Every piece has a number of special moments for each voice.  My own favourite is when the basses in No 6 sing “Zu nehmen preis”  (“You are worthy to receive glory“) in unison with the trombones on a series of ascending arpeggios, something guaranteed to make the hair on the backs of our necks stand on end.  And the transitions between pieces are ethereal, for example everyone singing at full blast at the end of No 3 followed by the gentleness of No 4; and the subtle change of key from E flat in No 4, to G in No 5 which softens the mood to introduce the idea of the comfort naturally given by a mother to her children.

I have rambled on for long enough.  This is a wonderful work of art, and we are extraordinarily privileged to be led in singing it by Carlos.  He not only understands the music, but he immerses himself in it, and in doing so, takes us along for the journey.

So, if you have not yet read through the text, try and make time to do so.  It’s worth every minute.

Last evening and next week, Carlos is working us hard on the two big fugues in Brahms’ A German Requiem, occurring in Sections 3 and 6.  That set me musing about fugues in general, the role they play in music and how they came to be.

If you want to read a full treatise on the subject, as usual Wikipedia is a good place to start.  Their page is here.  In short, it is a piece of music which starts with a melody  sung in succession by each voice, in different keys.  This leads to variants of the melody being sung in counterpoint, again in different keys, eventually the main tune coming in definitively in the original key before the whole piece comes to a conclusion.  I think Brahms’ two fugues in the A German Requiem match this description quite well.

“Fugue”  comes from French and Italian words meaning chase or flight in the sense of running away.  And that is what many fugues seem to do, especially those in A German Requiem.  It is a highly developed musical form, requiring concentration and skill to perform well, as we are finding out  The master of the technique was J S Bach, who wrote so many wonderful fugues for organ, orchestra and choirs that many subsequent composers paid homage to him by using the same form.  Brahms is probably one of those composers.

For a light-hearted look at fugues, you may like to watch this recording.  The noted Bach scholar and performer Glenn Gould wrote a fugue called So you want to write a fugue.  Click here to watch it.

Jetlag is something which all long-distance travellers “suffer”.  I mused this week, whilst “suffering” myself, that we travellers should perhaps stop using the word.  After all, we are “suffering” because we have the privilege of having time and money enough to broaden our minds by immersing ourselves in other environments and cultures, a luxury of which many people can only dream.

I was feeling somewhat yonderly as I arrived at rehearsal last night, having been back in Sydney just two days after a long distance flight from Europe.  It did not take long for Carlos to sort that out.  After a five week break, it was energising to be back amongst friends singing some of the most wonderful music ever written, under the direction of someone who knows, loves and cherishes the music and all that it stands for.  By the end of the rehearsal, the feeling of yonderliness (no, Spellchecker does not like this word but I can’t think of any other) had entirely evaporated, and then I had the best night’s sleep since arriving back.  But then we all know it – singing is good for you and cures all sorts of ailments, apparently including jetlag.

And what were some of our mind-broadening experiences in Europe?  Musically, attending a concert in a small Yorkshire Dales church given by a UK Championship brass band (did the roof really raise a few inches before settling down again?), joining in Choral Evensong in the intimate and historic Chapel of Christ’s College Cambridge, and hearing the Dresden Philharmonic play Brahms’ Second Symphony (did someone once say that only German orchestras should play Brahms as only Germans understand his music – they could be right).

It is great to be back with the Choir, with the prospect of several more insightful and exacting rehearsals of this marvellous work, culminating in an exciting and exhilarating performance in the Cardinal Cerretti Chapel in May.

For the next five weeks there will be a hole in my life.  It is true that a trip to Europe for family and other reasons will keep me well occupied, but I will miss the Choir’s weekly get-together on Thursday evenings.

But A German Requiem will be amongst the music on my iPod, to keep me amused during some long flights and rail journeys.  Should I take the score?  It’s rather bulky and heavy.  Maybe I should just take a copy of the words.  They bear some close examination.  Even singing pieces 1 and 2 last Thursday and glancing at the English words as other voices were singing, it is clear that Brahms wrote this from his heart.  We know that his Mother had died recently, and some commentators say that another death was preying on his mind, that of an unidentified close friend.  Was this perhaps a lady friend?  It it too much of a stretch to wonder if perhaps it was someone he was so close to that he had hoped that they might have married eventually?  After all, he never did marry……..

Whatever the suppositions and imaginings, the choice of words is very powerful.  Once I return Carlos will be in full command, and I think I would benefit from understanding them fully before coming under his eagle eye and ear again.

In the meantime, happy rehearsing!

Wasn’t it good to be back singing yesterday evening?  The scientists amongst us might comment on the free flow of endorphins induced by the heightened collaborative socio-neuro-emotive-physical activity of singing.  Most of us would just say that we had a good time and felt much the better for it.

It was really good to catch up with colleagues after the break from rehearsals, to see some folk who have returned after a year or so’s lapse, and to see some new faces in our ranks.

Jim Abraham, standing in for Carlos, master minded a rehearsal which saw us focus on just two items, and finish with singing How lovely are thy dwellings fair quite creditably and very satisfyingly.

Brahms is a very interesting character, as his Wikipedia entry shows.  ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johannes_Brahms )  It is intriguing that he called the piece A German Requiem, not The German Requiem.  He almost called it A Human Requiem, which would fit very well with his unusual choice of Biblical extracts for the libretto.  It is also intriguing that he uses German words to indicate the nature of each piece, in and amongst the usual Italian.  For example, No 4 has the indication Massig bewegt, meaning moderately expressively, presumably not too much, not too little – just in the middle. This is reminiscent of Karl Jenkins in Stella Natalis – do you remember Piously and Quirkily?

At the end of the rehearsal, I had decided that Brahms was not just beckoning.  This music, and all it represents, sucks the chorister – and eventually the audience – into a spiritual world of deep meaning and resonance.  This session promises to be one full of  enjoyment and satisfaction in equal measure.