The English language is full of pairs of words which have meanings similar to, but not exactly the same as, each other.  In terms of the Choir, two such are “practise” and “rehearse”.  What do we do on Thursday evenings –  rehearse or practise?

For many, the words have the same meaning.  But there is a subtle difference.

“Practise” comes from Latin and Greek words meaning to repeat something several times, improving each time – and indeed the idea of medical doctors “practising” comes from the idea that they use their past experience to perform ever improving diagnostic and surgical procedures on many patients.

“Rehearse” comes from a curious French word “rehercier”, not from anything to do with hearing.  “Hercier” is the French word for to harrow, in the agricultural sense, meaning to break down the clods of earth left from ploughing and examine them before planting the next season’s crop.  So “re-hercier” is do do that a number of times.

Coming back to Thursday evenings, Carlos makes sure that our time is spent both taking the music apart for examination and running through the same section several times, getting better (hopefully!) each time.  So we both “rehearse” and “practise”, in the precise meanings of the words.

Maybe this duality and ambiguity is why I say to Anne on a Thursday evening, simply, “It’s time for me to go to Choir.”

My thanks to Ed Ayres, ABC Classic presenter, who sparked my interest in these words  by a reference to “rehearse” and “rehercier” in his most recent book “Whole Notes”.

Last night members of the Choir assembled in the large hall at CPPS and sang together for the first time since June 2021.  What a wonderful feeling it was to be making music together again, from the discipline of learning new parts to the excitement of bursting into the opening chorus of the well-known Coronation Anthem, “Zadok the Priest”.

What is more, we fully expect to do the same next Thursday evening, and on all following Thursdays, until, at the end of May, there is the frisson of putting on our first concert in over two years.  Suddenly it seems that, despite all the awful things going on in the world around us, there is the opportunity to enrich our own lives and those of others by making music together.

Last Friday Anne and I heard an outstanding performance of the Fauré Requiem given by the Australian Brandenburg Orchestra and Choir.  It was very measured, with the few climaxes standing out starkly against a marvelously restrained backdrop.  It was to have been the subject of this blog, but it was overtaken by the events of last night.

Somehow, the experience of singing together, however tentative and imperfect we may be, eclipsed that of listening to even the best of other groups’  performances.   Snatches of Handel have been with me all night and have been upmost in my mind as I write this piece.

Other choirs may provide us with inspiration to give the best of ourselves, but there is no doubt that the best feeling, the best tonic, the best therapy, is to be singing ourselves.  Long may it continue!

It is hard to believe that next week marks the resumption of MW Choir activities after a seemingly interminable break.  How do you capture the anticipation of the time?  The best word I can think of is “Hallelujah!”

There is so much to look forward to.  Firstly, we can catch up with friends and colleagues of long standing, sharing experiences of lockdown and beyond and enjoying each others’ support.

Then there is the job of making one’s own voice work again after its enforced layoff.  This may be easy for some and more difficult for others.  Perhaps as we get back into shape there will be a spin-off effect giving us all a boost in ability and confidence.

Singing is about joining with other voices to produce beautiful music together.  It is wonderful to think that we have the opportunity to re-create today the sounds which very gifted composers imagined many years ago and which have somehow stood the test of time.

Underpinning all our vocal efforts is Valerie’s supportive accompaniment, without which we would be all at sea, and which itself is often a delight to hear.

For many of us the highlight of rehearsals is listening to Carlos describe the nature of the music and how it should be sung.  Sharing in his understanding of the music is a rare privilege for us Choir members and an essential ingredient to delivering convincing performances for our faithful audiences.

There is so much to look forward to.  Hallelujah indeed!

The City Recital Hall has re-commenced its series of lectures entitled “This Sounds like Science” and one entitled “Coronavirus Music” sounded too topical to miss.

It started with an unlikely premise.  The drummer from an indie-rock group, turned molecular biologist, merging his two interests by creating music from the RNA sequence of the Covid-19 SARS virus.

How?

I only wish I could describe the process called “sonification” with some degree of confidence.  It was something about mapping subsets of the RNA sequence onto musical notes through a set of algorithms.  You try out different mapping techniques and different algorithms until you find a combination yielding sounds pleasing to the ear (whose ear?) and then jam them with a few friends with guitars, a keyboard and a Moog synthesizer.

And the result of all his labours?

Someone once said that if you cannot find anything good to say about something, you should just say nothing.

A number of audience members gave the music an extremely enthusiastic reception, which made me think that perhaps I am missing a gene; the gene necessary to appreciate phrenetic (and, no doubt, very skillful) drumming supported by loads of electronic noise from players whose appearance is soulless and cerebral.  Perhaps readers may like to judge for themselves by looking at some of the lecturer’s music videos on his YouTube Channel:  Mark Temple – YouTube. These give some idea how the musical ideas are derived from the RNA sequence, but do not do justice to the final performance.

However, not all was lost, as my expedition to the City had two purposes.  The other was a huge success: locating a rare second-hand copy of a now out-of-print Australian book for a friend in the UK at a superb shop with extremely helpful staff and a very welcome coffee-shop on site.

Every cloud does indeed have a silver lining.

Isn’t it just wonderful to be singing together again!

Last Thursday brought the Choir together for the first time in just over a year, in a different hall and different layout from pre-Covid, with extra precautions and admin arrangements. But, most importantly, we were back singing together.

Carlos led us through a number of vocal exercises and songs, encouraging us as always to make the most of the words and the music.  A very satisfying evening.

Most of the incidental sights and sounds were familiar to the memory.  Friendly faces; the chatter of voices before we started; the shuffling of music as we found the next song; occasional clearing of the throat, and so-on.  But one sound I had forgotten was that of the opening of packets – new packets, of course – of Fisherman’s Friends, by those choristers whose vocal chords, rusty through fifty four weeks of reduced use, needed some encouragement and lubrication.

It has always puzzled me how a product called Fisherman’s Friend comes to be used by choristers.  I found out when I got home.  Once I had recounted to Anne the details of a wonderful evening’s singing, she said, “Have you heard about Doreen Lofthouse?”  “No, why?” I replied, racking my brain to find some connection.  Anne had picked up from a UK news feed that the said Doreen Lofthouse had just died at the ripe old age of 91, and that she was the person responsible for turning a humble remedy for fisherman’s respiratory ills into a universally favourite throat lozenge, which has become a friend to many more people than fishermen, particularly to choristers.

Her story is heart-warming.  She married the great grandson of the lozenges’ inventor at a time when Fisherman’s Friend was known only locally around the fishing town of Fleetwood, near the famous seaside town of Blackpool, with both the fishing fleet and the town in decline. Extending the range of flavours and actively marketing on a national and subsequently global scale, she was instrumental in securing the long term viability of the business, and hence restoring the town’s civic pride. The lozenges, redesigned by Doreen in 1963 in the shape of a button on her favourite dress, are now made in a disused fish processing factory in Fleetwood which employs many descendants of the original fishermen.  She was modest about her role in the success of the business and become a generous benefactor to many local civic, medical and educational causes.

To read more of Doreen Loftouse’s story, click here.

As Doreen’s life ended, so the Manly Warringah Choir has sprung back to life. We all look forward with eager anticipation over the coming months to rehearsals and concerts of inspiring music, aided, of course, by the famous Fisherman’s Friend.